Today I am angry. I think I am allowed to be.
This summer, the Captain and I had plans. For some years we had been looking forward to a time when could move onto our narrowboat and travel the canals for six months of the year. We have been slowly moving towards that goal. We sold our family home last year and moved into a much smaller, more easily manageable property. We refitted our boat. We adapted my jam making business to suit a more prolonged life aboard. We adjusted our finances. The Captain began to adapt work, initially taking a six month sabbatical with a view to retirement in April 2017. We were good to go.
And then this happened. And the whole Cancer Circus came to town.
On most days I am rational about this. Sanguine even. I am delighted that the Captain does not have to juggle work with his need to be with me and my need for him to be here. But today I am not rational. I am not sanguine. I am not delighted either. I am bloody angry that our plans have been trashed. This has happened time and again. And it is not fair. Not even a little bit.
I know that our plans will keep. I know that we should be able to continue with them next year. I know that were it not for modern medicine, my chances of doing them for many years would be seriously in doubt. But from now on, I will always have a sword of Damocles hanging over my head. Once a cancer patient, always a cancer patient, as they say. I can choose to ignore it. I can choose to live with it. I can choose to embrace it. But it will always be there.
And I am angry about that too.