Blue Skies, Black Clouds

I feel, my friends, that I owe you an update, though I'm not sure I want to write it. I only want to write with the good stuff, the happy news, but life isn't always like that is it? I had the operation, it was not straightforward. My surgeon is a legend, but in her words, "we were dealt a bad hand". She thought it wouldn't come out, but it did, though there are bits left in tricky places that can't be cut away.

I've healed well from the op. I'll spare you a photo of the seams, but fortunately the medical team are just as good at cuttin' and stitchin' as I am. Still, it's a tidy scar that'll come in handy if ever the after-dinner conversation runs out.

So I will try the next stage, chemotherapy, though I've also been researching other potential options of treatment that aren't always offered at first. I want to attack it while I'm strong not wait till it gets to the last chance saloon. I don't know if these other things are options for me but I intend to ask.

Please, if you have any symptoms of bowel cancer, or if like me you don't really have any symptoms except for severe anaemia, please pester your doctor for a full colonoscopy and a CT scan. Don't take no for an answer. If I had known that anaemia as bad as mine could have been an indicator of a right-sided tumour I would not have left that hospital without a CT scan and things might have been very different. It took a long time for the doctors to find the nasty. I had a lot of other inconclusive tests.

I felt well, I nearly didn't go for the last test.

I nearly didn't go.

I know, from all your lovely messages, cards and gifts that I'm not alone in this. I know many of you have had cancer too, and have got well or are able to live with it. I know I'm not alone, but I can't tell you what a lonely place this is in spite of all that. The nights are long.

I'm an optimist. But I'm a realist too and at times that means, well, we won't got there.

My friends and family tell me I'm brave. I think I'm just a good actress. I don't feel brave. I feel scared, no, terrified. No matter how blue the skies, the black cloud won't go.

If Jamie were to read this he'd be cross with me. Tell me to stop thinking negatively, encourage me to not overthink, not look too far ahead, to have faith that it's going to be OK. He's probably right, no-one knows what life has in store and we should always live for today. Shouldn't we? I want to think of myself as a little old lady painting in my garden. I'd always thought that would be how it would work out.

I've been sewing clothes, four pairs of shorts, one pair of trousers, a cardigan and a jacket so far. I can't do my 'real' work though. I keep going in the studio and wandering out again. Even though it's not obvious, there's always so much of me in my work, my thoughts and opinions. I feel like if I were to start working, 'it' would all come tumbling out of that box where I've locked it away in my head, and would rush out in a flood and never stop.

One of the doctors gave me the best advice of anyone. She said that I must always remember that I am the same person as I was before. When everything has changed it's hard to remember that.

Perhaps I better go and find a sketchbook. Well after I've gone and blown my nose and washed my face.

Much love to you all.
Laura
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