It’s C Day.

It’s C day. The first day of mums chemotherapy and as we walked through the ‘Cancer Treatment’ door my heart started pounding. Goodness me, but I never thought I would be walking my mum into hospital to have chemo. I keep reminding myself that she is cancer free, praise God,  and this is just a preventative, or an insurance policy, as the therapists keep calling it. The last week has been intense leading up to today with mum freaking out and being anxious,  which is understandable. As for me, I’ve on a couple of occasions this last week felt like someone had placed a 100kg dumbbell on my chest; I just couldn’t breathe properly for the life of me and at one point questioned if I was having a heart attack. And while I know I have occasional moments of ‘dramatic’, I legitimately thought I was having a heart attack at one point. To be on the safe side I’ve (grudgingly) cut back on coffee.

But sitting in the chemo ward watching my mum and numerous others get treatment and my heart is just hurting. That’s the only way I can explain it: my heart hurts. I’m here with mum but some are here alone, some with a buddy, some sleeping and some doing work. All have the same look and countenance but are trying their hardest to smile and be “okay”. Mum is overwhelmed with all the info they are giving her but she’s being a trooper and I’m madly taking notes every time the nurse so much as opens her mouth. They have given us a pack with information however I will say I’m impressed with their folder colour choice: purple. And yes, I’m a little obsessed with the colour and a folder colour is pretty unimportant in the grand scheme of things, but it made both mum and I smile. (My purple obsession comes from mamma dearest).

It’s fascinating what you notice when you’re trying not to watch the nurse find a vein to inject; the dead tree oustide the window. The tissues that have been tossed near the tree. The navy socks with pink hearts the nurse is wearing under her blue scrubs. My eyes are on everything but the needle and where it’s going. But I best get used to it because this is our life for the next 6 months. We’re leaving the hospital with bags of medicine, needles, thermometers, it’s like Christmas has come early. ..except these are the toys that you generally chuck a tantrum over and throw out of the crib.

But anyway, this is all my heart and mind are able to process today. Everything else running through my head is too scattered, sarcastic or confusing to put into words, so will save it until next time.

God bless.


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