Update

So I left ye hanging there after my last post. Apologies. 

Since then, I have had six doses of Folfiri chemotherapy, one hospital admission for neutropenia (low white cell count which made me vulnerable to serious infections) and  at least 14 boxes of Leonidas chocolates. 

I have walked 82 miles in a month for charity, because I misread the advertisement and thought it was going to be kilometres.

I am still getting chemo every two weeks, but just fluorouracil and cetuximab now which are easy peasy compared to irinotecan. 

I have lost about 80% of my hair and I am getting skilled at the comb-over. I bought a cheap wig which I immediately had to return because it was so hideous. (It is hard to describe just how hideous it was).

I went to Belfast for the weekend where we held our annual WiMIN conference, with 120 other lovely women in attendance and a few dozen more tuning in over Zoom. 

I had a scan a few weeks ago which showed that my liver tumour has shrunk quite a lot, which was excellent news. I am due to have another scan soon to see what’s next. It seems likely that I will continue with some kind of chemotherapy on and off for the next while, just to be on the safe side. 

I am well enough now to return to work, because the chemo regime I am on now doesn’t cause fatigue or low immunity. Also, I will lose my mind if I don’t have something to keep my brain busy, so work is therapeutic for me. I am very thankful to have an understanding employer (in fact, any employer – the last time I was off sick I was self-employed, and the luxury of a PAYE job has become very clear to me in the last few months). 

I find myself getting irritated by vapidity, and then I remember that Instagram is a choice and I can just delete the app. 

I still cannot bring myself to look at the videos from Gaza. And now there are videos from Lebanon to turn away from as well. I am a coward and, therefore, complicit. I just don’t know how to cope with the inevitability of it all. They will not stop until everyone is dead. I don’t see any alternative future. 

I wish the world was different, but I am glad that I am looking out at the autumn leaves in the low October sunlight, and I am healthy (relatively speaking).