Tonight I am struggling. Not something I often admit to but tonight the panic is getting the better of me. Today I thought about getting a kitten. Not a huge thing, just a little kitten instead of the puppy I was promised when I relapsed last year (yes my mother was panicking but she said those words ;o) However this coming weekend I have to go back down to Glasgow for some tests and things and it left me thinking what if I get the kitten and I am not here in 6 months time? What if I get the kitten and they find that I have relapsed again? What if? What if? What if?
This week I had my first assessment for Uni and while I was worried about it, it is nothing like the fear of having to go to Glasgow and sign the form with these words in it
“I understand that donor lymphocytes offer the chance of long term survival. However, I also understand that there are definite risks to my life and health resulting from the performance of this procedure.”
There are some days when I just don’t think I am strong enough to keep doing this. There are even more days when I don’t think I am strong enough to keep putting my friends and family through this – it just feels so selfish. In order to even attend the appointment I risk infecting people I love with Covid and that just feels crap (sorry but it does). It has been over 5 years of fighting and most days I am doing good, doing great even. BUT there are some days, days like today, when I know that tests and procedures are required and breaths need to be held as I wait for results that I just want to run away and hide. I know that none of us know the day we will be called home, but sometimes I get tired of looking death in the face and saying ‘come on if you think you’re hard enough’ because each time I do that I lose a little of myself to him. But the reality is what choice do I have? These are the cards I have been dealt and it is only by playing the game that I can find out if I hold a wining hand or not! Cue a Kenny Rogers song.