We're at that point

They are stopping all treatments. They are just making her feel bad without actually doing anything. I didn't think we'd get to this point today. I don't think anyone of us did. She's been having good weeks lately. So while I think we weren't expecting good news. We weren't expecting this.

My mum said: "So now we just have to wait."
My response was: "No mum. Now we have to live."

They kept telling us that one day we would get to this point. I just couldn't quite believe that we would.

Ten years

Today, ten years ago, a close friend of mine passed away from a benign brain tumor. That was when I learned that 'benign' did not mean 'nothing to worry about'. It's also the first time I understood what tumors entailed. And it was when a darkness I had never known before entered my life. I still carry so many scars from that day, and the months that followed. But I've fought hard to stop them from being open wounds. The 15th of every month used to be a struggle. Today I feel more sad than dark. I wonder what kind of an amazing woman she would have been. I miss you Effie. I carry you with me everywhere. And don't think for a minute that I've forgotten about you.

Tomorrow we're going to the hospital for my mum's regular three month check up. We see the oncologist and he gives us a status report. I don't think any of us are expecting to hear anything but bad news. Life is a struggle. And it doesn't get easier. It's always terrifying going for these checks. After, no matter what the news, we can relax and push on for another three months. It means we've survived another three months and are ready for the next ones.

I'm sleeping in my room at my parents house. I need the comfort of being close. Being home. I love my flat. But on nights like these there's no other place I can be.

Ten years. And I'm back in the hell I was in then. It's strange though. This time it's so much closer. But I'm not as dark. But trust me. It's a constant battle to not go down that road and embrace the dark that was my best friend for so long.

Remember to breathe

I've been so busy lately with getting my apartment sorted that I haven't had much time to think. Which in a way is very good. And has been quite nice. But it's still around me. And I don't really know how to feel. Lately I've been feeling guilty because I've been almost happy over the last weeks. Saw my English friends for a week in Italy. Followed by moving. So much happiness and joy. I've barely thought about cancer. And death. And darkness. So instead I've been feeling guilty. Which I know is crazy. Because of course I'm allowed some happiness. So whenever I've been feeling guilty I've pushed it away. Tried to shake it off. It generally works. But I also have to remember to let myself feel. To remember to breathe. It's okay to feel. It's okay to fall apart. And it's okay to have moments of joy.

My own refuge

Yesterday I oficially moved into my own flat. My little piece of heaven. Which so far is pretty empty. But it has the essentials. A bed. A sofa. Working wifi. Small dining table. Couple of chairs. Close to work. And best of all? It's all mine, and only mine. And my landlords. But that's not important. Currently, it's mine. And I love it. I feel like I can breathe again.

I lived at my parents house for just over a year. I can't belive it's been that much time. Most of my stuff is still there. Moving a little bit each day now. And it will be home for a long time still. But now this is home too. Which is great. And lovely. And amazing. And so so needed. I need a place where I can fall apart. Where I can be happy. Where I can feel all my emotions out in the open. A place that isn't tainted by disease. I make my parents house seem horrible. It isn't. It's my favourite place in the whole world. But so is this. And it will just get better and better as I keep putting my mark on it.

Airports

I have a love hate relationship to airports. I've spent so much time at them that they, along with flying, became a necessary evil. A way to go from one home to the other. Since we can't apparate or teleport we're left with aeroplanes.

But I also absolutely love airports. They're filled with so many emotions. People are excited. Heading out for an adventure. A well needed break. But people are also crying while saying good bye. I've done my own share of crying at airports.

Today I feel like I belong to.both othergroups. Filled with excitement and joy I'm waiting to board my flight to Rome to meet up with the best of the best. My people. They flew from London last night and are waiting for me. But it's also incredibly sad that I'm going and that my parents never got the chance this summer. It's their house. They deserve to go. To get away from the nightmare that our daily life has turned into.

But I'm going. And it will be wonderful. I'm so excited and when I think about the people waiting for me a large grin spreads across my face. An entire week. With my people. Away from reports. And organizational changes. And population forecasts. And eu grant applications. And most of all. A week away from cancer.

Sounds like heaven.

Things you don't think about

I went to a colleagues surprise leaving party tonight. It was lovely and lots of fun. Since I work at the same place as my mum, and we share the same colleagues this man is obviously her colleague to. I know it broke her heart slightly not being able to have been there. They had their offices next to each other and were very close. Throughout the evening I found myself thinking that she should be there instead of me. Something else I realised, which makes me incredibly sad, is that my mum won't get a leaving party. She is not coming back to work. She is terminally ill. But you don't throw a leaving party for someone who has left due to illness. That would be morbid and very odd. But it's sad. She won't get the speeches. The appreciation. The 'we will miss you'. I've never thought about that before. But today it hit me, and I almost had to walk out in the middle of a speech because I almost lost it. I didn't. But I'm doing it now instead.

She's not getting a leaving party. And that hurts more than I ever thought was possible.

Tears in my eyes

Some days are harder than others. Some evenings are more difficult than others. For no apparent reason. I mean, obviously there's a reason. I'm living with this constant dark cloud not so much on the horizon as looming right next to me. And while I've lived with darkness before I've never experienced anything like this. How could I have. But that means that some days, for no specific reason, are harder than others. Because no human being can live with this constant darkness in their life and not be effected by it. It's difficult. It's painful. And it's horrible. Everything else fades away in comparison.

Some evenings are just harder than others..

Pretending

Lying in bed having long conversations with myself. Can't sleep. I'm going through what I need to get done at work tomorrow. I'm planning what we're doing in two weeks when I'm going on holiday. I'm reenacting conversations with other people from a life time ago. Thinking about Malta. What the kids I worked with in Ecuador are doing now, seven years later. Going through every hole on the golf course and where I'd want my tee shots to go.

Thinking about anything.

Except the words I were told today.
"It has spread to more organs."
There's not much untouched left.