Forgetting How To Remember…

After the whole scan results thing, I am finding it so hard to find myself again. Before that day I was in a good place, for the first time in my life I was positive and it was just about me, not the disease, but now thats changed. Again.

I hate the way I can’t seem to find that person again.


I have done everything I was asked. I go every month and make the small talk. I listen to the statistics, risks and constant questions. I do it, I embraced it. But still, nothings changed.

Not really.

I might be that much happier, but my head is just as mixed up as ever.

Or apparently more so.

Because now I forget. I forget the name, the answer or the question I was asking in the first place. I was looking through some old photos today, it was so nice to see memories. Pictures tell a story, you tend to snap something you want to remember forever. But I see photos and I don’t remember the story. I don’t remember how I was feeling at the time or why I even took the photo in the first place.

It’s just not there. 

I see baby smiles from Pops, but I don’t remember the feeling of becoming her Mum. Becoming a Mum for the first time. I don’t remember how that felt.

I don’t remember the early months.

I used to have one of those memories that took in everything. The stupid things people would never think to remember. Now I don’t even recall the reason I wanted to save that memory.

I want to feel strong and determined, positive and powerful again. But I don’t.

And I don’t know how to get it back again….

In The Arms Of My Mother.

This week started with my usual 28 day infusion. I went in happy, albeit cold, but happy nonetheless.

But I left reeling. I sat for hours with tears in my eyes, silent.

I left feeling like all my hard work was for nothing. I left my confidence behind, because I was so, so damn confident that I was fine. Because I had done everything that had been asked of me. 

I had been positive, living and loving every minute of life. But now I am finding it so hard to get that positivity back. To push myself to ignore it.

Later I went to my Mums. Where I ran straight into her arms and sobbed. She held me fo ages. Because being in the arms of my Mother, is all I wanted.

I spent the rest of the week escaping in London with Steph. I was away from reality, free to be someone else. But by the end it, the tears and fear had once again caught up with me. They found me. 

And I cried.

I cried down the phone to Hubby and I cried on poor Steph.

So in the end, I spent far too much of this week crying. 

I spent even more time asking myself why. Why me? Why now? Why that?

Granted I had been forgetting. Silly things like conversations, questions and often mid sentence. 

But I didn’t expect to be told I have inflamation in the part of my brain that is my memory.

I don’t want to forget. Anything. I want to see, feel, hear and remeber every one of those things, because everyone else can.

Now I have to take a million more photos, write everything down and take in that extra second of everything. As to try and remember. Try and hold on to every memory I have or will have.

Now I await to hear from my referal for more tests.

More scans.

So I will use my blog for my memories, of past and present. Then they will be there forever, I might not be able to imprint it on my mind forever, but I will leave the imprint on the internet.

Where I can find it.