I was deflated, my body ached, I had tubes going in and a catheter at my side. At some point over the next couple of days your dad asked if I wanted a photo. I didn’t. Having a photo made it all the more real and I didn’t want to be there, all I wanted was my normal cancer free life back. If I didn’t make it through this I didn’t want any photos he took to be amongst the last photos of me that loved ones would see and if I did, I didn’t ever want reminding of how I felt lying there in that bed. I wanted to get out, I wanted to go home.
Here’s a little baby, one, two, three. Stands in her cot, what does she see. She sees her sister fighting sleep, desperate to stay awake. Her mum is tired but happy, smiling at the family she thought she’d never make.
One day you will tell your story of how you’ve overcome what you’re going through now, and it will become someone else’s survival guide.
We did climb a mountain, or at least a metaphorical one, in the shape of a huge renovation of the house next door.
You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have.
Sometimes the smallest things can give us the greatest comfort and faith, by definition, has or needs no explanation.
Dr Google is not a rabbit hole you want to fall into and almost always end in sheer panic.