Buying Time

When I sat down to write this blog yesterday I was determined to compose a post with a more positive edge: Keith has had a couple of days recently where he felt well enough to do fun stuff like go to the cricket (arguably not that much fun given the state of England's batting) or Luna Park (roller coasters on chemo? What's a little extra nausea?) but that was sadly quashed yesterday after he had a consultation with his Prof at the hospital.

Now we have been coasting a little over the last few weeks, we've got into a pretty good routine of school, work and chemo and as a result I think we both lost perspective on the situation. Not a bad thing one could argue, as it's a lot easier to live when there's stuff to do, but the reality is we haven't really been thinking about what happens next. It actually hadn't occurred to me that there is only a finite amount of chemotherapy Keith's body can take before it gets overloaded with toxins. It hadn't occurred to me that there will come a point when he has to stop having it. But these are facts and they may make for an uncomfortable reality, and we were reminded of this yesterday.

Prof Goldstein has made the point to us before that this treatment is being given to "buy time" but I think we sort of lost sight of that a bit. We were joking a couple of nights ago about people saying "Yeah, you're terminal, but not THAT terminal, right?!?" and it's kind of funny because it's true.  Back in July when he was first diagnosed we weren't even sure he would make Christmas (Keith was disappointed to make my birthday in November as it meant he had to buy me a present) and look where we are now. But back in July we were also given an initial prognosis of Keith living for six to twelve months (we didn't talk about that to anyone and I am sorry if it comes as a shock) and I think we had managed to forget that bit. It is so very hard, living with this cancer and its treatment; every day can be a tumultuous struggle so it's not surprising really that some issues get lost as a result. I am glad we have had the reminder now: I wasn't so glad last night, but the truth is hard to take sometimes. He will have a CT scan in January to assess the course of action and whether the treatment has been in any way effective and/or worth continuing with. Before then we have Christmas, which will be hard enough in itself.

There are always more questions than answers in Beach Street, Clovelly these days and I will leave you with some to ponder. If you do not have to buy time, if you are privileged enough to own it, are you really getting your money's worth? Are you filling it with enough of what you need? I am still going to parties, because I like parties. I'm still working because it matters to me (and I am good at it). We can't, as the saying goes, "live every day as if it's our last" because that would just be silly; but can we do more so when that last day comes we feel incredibly proud of what we did on the way there? Did we, so to speak, have enough great parties?

I bid you a happy couple of pre-Christmas weeks: no doubt I'll post some pictures of the beach at some point (still weird).

Peace out friends xxxx