I think I am prepared. In a How Do You Prepare For The Unknown sort of way. My levels of whelm are in balance: I am neither overwhelmed nor underwhelmed. So therefore I must be in a state of whelm. No promises for a total absence of anxiety tomorrow but right now I feel calm. Peaceful even. This is good.
I have packed a large handbag to take with me for entertainment purposes. It contains: sweets to suck in case of instantly yacky tasting mouth; 1.5 litres of water, half infused (basil, cucumber & lemon since you asked) and half plain; selection of non-tea tea bags, green, mint, ginger; crossword book; earbuds for iPhone (just updated listening matter); lip balm, gin & tonic flavoured, obviously; book; tissues. I am sure there are things I have forgotten. But as luck would have it, I will get five more goes at packing the perfect chemo bag.
Tomorrow morning, then, me, the Captain, and my bag will tootle our merry way over to the Chemo Unit for 9:30am. This means I will have to set an alarm. I am bad at sleeping. In general that is, but perhaps unsurprisingly particularly at the moment I am bad at sleeping. And the best sleep I get is invariably the early morning. Now that we are actually here, I do not feel especially anxious while awake. If one of you could just let my subconscious know that, I would be grateful. Perhaps it is time to dwell once more on Teresa d’Avila:
‘Let nothing disturb you; nothing dismay you;
all things are passing; God never changes.
Patient endurance attains all that it strives for;
those who have God find they lack nothing.
God alone suffices.’