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.

Its Okay To Break.

So this week has been pretty normal. Aside from Narla being spay and having to explain the whole concept to a four year old, but that is another post for another day.

I had my infusion again, told the nurse about my trouble remembering, thinking and having important conversations. Hoping the MRI I shall be having on the 15th will show the cause, if not, then maybe its time to think again on my infusion.

The week has also been packed with mega tiredness, I even managed to be in bed by 5 the other evening.

I had just had enough of everything,  so that along with being super tired pushed me to hide away for the evening.

Going to bed early and having lie-ins in the mornings might sound amazing, but mostly I just feel guilty.

Guilt and wanting my days back is not the best emotional combination.

So inside I have been secretly breaking.

I don’t think I can cry anymore, this year has seen far too many tears, so I have just got on with it quietly. I figure it’s the wrong time of year to be putting a downer on everything and everyone.

And besides, I am no stranger to feeling shite.

Kind of comes with the territory i’d say.

I guess sometimes I just get so tired trying to ‘be strong’ that it tends to just hit you at once. Like a big smack in the mush.

Anyway we are off to London again this weekend, so I will slap on a smile and get on with it until I return home.

Then it will be okay to break a tiny bit more.