Thursday, 4 February 2010

Scared, just scared and alone

I've had a busy day.Meeting with friends for lunch. Dashing around this afternoon. Going over to school for two meetings. Rushing back at 7pm to pop the home made cottage pie I prepared earlier in the oven. Having my supper. Knitting a few rows of my new project (I haven't knitted for years and I treated myself to a pattern and some wool to make a cardigan the other day) Getting lost in 'The Good Wife' followed by 'Brothers and Sisters' on the TV. And now it's 11 pm and too late to call anyone up, except Eve and she's not home yet. And the house is quiet and I can't hide from myself any longer, I am scared.

I am frightened (again) that today is my last day of normality, that tomorrow when I get my results from my mammogram I'll hear those chilling words 'You've got cancer' again. I've played the scenario over and over in my head recently. Cause the day before I got diagnosed I didn't have cancer. And then the world crashed down on my head.

There is no reason to think anything is wrong. I haven't found a lump or anything like that. But I didn't first time round. It was caught early. So my experience is of the result coming out of the blue.

I've waited three weeks for this result. I think I've done really well to get to the night before, till I went into meltdown.

Hold me in your thoughts when you read this. And hopefully I'll come back tomorrow, and say all is well.

But for now I've got to go to bed and try and sleep. Hopefully Eve will phone me up when she gets home, as there is a five hour difference between us, and even if she wakes me she'll listen to me. And tell me not to be such a silly.

I wish my Mummy was here right now, or my big son, or even my grumpy youngest one. Really anyone would do, as long as they hugged me tight. Cause sometimes being alone is a tough call when you can't see for crying.

But I feel better for writing this, my writing has allowed the tears to fall And I needed to cry to let go of some of the fear.


Merry ME said...

My dear Byrd,
I am holding you close. Can you feel my arms wrapped around you like a warm handmade quilt? I'm gently, sweetly rubbing your back as you tuck your head into my shoulder. Go ahead and cry. It's okay. I'm here.
You are loved. No matter what you find out tomorrow you will not have to face it alone.

Praying God's blessings on you. Sleep well.

Lyn said...

Mandy, my heart hurt when I read your post ... I can only imagine how you must feel overwhelmed by uncertainty. And it is a familiar road for you. Someone across the big blue sea is sending you pink healing light and love as you lay in bed trying to sleep.

I will include you in my prayers tonight Mandy and I just know you will be OK.

lakeviewer said...

You'll be fine. All these diagnostic tools allow us to see things we still can't feel. It is really progressive and life saving. No. We don't want to feel sick and have to go through all kinds of therapies. But, the other option, not knowing, is worse.

We can only draw close together and hold hands.
Do call your sons and tell them how you need to hear their voices.

My best wishes are being sent your way.

Helen said...

I hope you can feel the huge hug and the kiss on your cheek I'm sending to you.

Von said...

Hang in there girl, you've already proven you're a survivor.Good wishes.

kj said...

see those blue healing balloons floating over your house? they're from me, a tiny message of healing, hope, and hurry up and feel better.


Linda said...

Mandy♥ I am late reading this so it should be Friday morning now. I'm hoping that you eventually managed to fall asleep. I hope you are feeling positive and strong to face today. It goes without saying that I am hoping and praying for your next post to have the best news possible. Three weeks seems to be an awful long time to wait, I wish they could give results much quicker. Sending prayers and lots of ♥♥♥ xoxo

Zan said...

I only read this now and I know it's 8.25am where you are too.
But I am sure you could do with a big hug this morning too, a warm encouraging hug. It must be scary, I've never gone through anything like it but I imagine it must be scary, that wait.
So here's me hugging you and wishing you well today.
Lots of love.

Angela said...

Mandy dear, yesterday two white swans were flying over my head. If that isn`t a good sign!!!! You have been cancer-free for five years now, so why should it have started again last week? You looked healthy and life-loving to me when you were here, and all those worries should not bend you down. Please let us know what the results are, and then we`ll deal with them together! I`m keeping you in my thoughts.

Mel said...

This one I know well.

((((((((((( the byrdie ))))))))))))

I hope E was able to ring, you were able to say what you needed to say for you, and that the appointment has revealed good results--and that you're celebrating with a good cuppa coffee and a croissant.

(((((((((( the byrdie ))))))))))

BenefitScroungingScum said...

I've just seen this, so really hoping you've had good news by now. I'll be thinking of you and sending lots of virtual love and hugs to keep you safe. BG Xx

Tattie Weasle said...

Crossing fnigers and hoping like mad - huge hugs!

miss*R said...

it's over now... wish I had been there for you to give you a hug...

I hate those times of being alone with what I call 'cancer head'.. no-one, not one person can take away that absolute panic of hearing those words again..