The road less travelled...

I've had a few people ask how I'm doing (which is lovely! Thanks!) and so, lying awake at 4am the other night, I thought I would tell you.

"They say it's cancer."
So why am I so calm?

"It's brain cancer - three tumours. I'm going in to have them removed in a few days."
I'm not crying. Why not?

I don't want to plan Mum's funeral. Now I'm crying.

"She's survived the surgery, but she's still in danger."
So we can't celebrate yet?

"It's been a few days. She's doing well. Now we can tell you that it's a very common form of brain cancer. Only about 10-15% of people survive [longer than five years]. Yes, that does include people who were never diagnosed."
Then why don't you get more correct figures? She was diagnosed. Give me a realistic figure, dammit!

I'm getting angry instead of sad. I scare myself sometimes.

"She's starting radiation on Tuesday."
So am I allowed to be a little happy now? The operation isn't going to kill her, is it? So why haven't you told us that before?!

"She's coming home to go back in as an out-patient."
That's good. So why am I scared? I'm scared that I won't be able to take care of her properly, that I might do something to hurt her. I'm scared that I might get it, too. I'm just scared.

"I'm losing my hair now, Kate. I'm scared."
I am, too, but not all the time anymore. Sometimes I forget. Sometimes I don't believe it. Sometimes I do believe it, but I believe things will be all right. Sometimes I think they will turn out for the best, whatever that is. And whatever it is, I know that we will all get through it.

So there you go. That's how I'm feeling, around and around in circles.