I don’t know how many times I can write about how I’ve got nothing to write about except writing.
So I’ll do an experiment.
I have no idea where this post is going to go.
I’ll just write what comes.
I’m feeling really happy right now.
Mookie the neighbour’s cat is sleeping on the fury grey bean bag in my office, where I am.
Sometimes I hear the balls of the bag as she moves.
She is so cute.
The tea in the light blue mug to my right is cold.
I forgot to finish making it because I was working on my memoir for the day.
But I put honey in it anyway.
I am up to 71, 410 words on the memoir and still have 20K to cut before I get to 100K.
If that makes sense.
I’m enjoying it.
On Friday I got the results back of the full body scans I had.
Some of the liver tumours I had had shrunk but other small ones had come.
I was so nervous before I went into the oncologist’s office.
My heart was beating fast.
But I wanted to sit in the tension, not distract myself, and feel it.
When the doctor said the results were strange and it was time to change medication, I felt relieved and excited.
I didn’t even care about having my period again.
But now it might come back and that’s ok.
She said.
The drugs target the DNA of the cancer cells.
I have to take them morning and night.
It’s a form of chemotherapy.
I might feel nauseus.
But my hair won’t fall out.
I don’t have to have the monthly shots I was having now.
I didn’t have them on Friday.
That felt liberating.
I am no longer in an induced menopause.
Tears come to my eyes as I write this.
I feel so fucking grateful.
I never gave up hope.
Don’t give up hope.
Though I accepted.
I’m really crying now and it’s good.
I want to cry.
Crying alchemises our pain, our wounds.
I don’t do it enough.
Because, just like now, I’m already teaching it before I even finish processing.
I’m so so happy.
Change is good.
Our lives can change in an instant.
