Lost

Warning: this blog may feel a little confrontational. Don't take it personally, it was bound to happen eventually.

I'll cut to the chase and inform you that the CT scan Keith had yesterday showed no change in the size of the tumours in his liver. I'm not going to speculate if this is good news or bad news, I don't want to hear analysis either way. He still has terminal cancer. What it does allow is some breathing space for the next month and that has made him feel a little better. 

How is he otherwise? Well, pretty shit. Lost. Lonely. Missing his friends. Desperately sad a lot of the time. New Year was very hard. Every day is very hard. I can't really dress this up this time...like I said: it's confrontational.

Our meeting with our Professor today made me think about how important language is throughout all of this. He has talked several times over the last seven months about odds; about how there is never a clear predictable outcome, we must just bet on the most favourable course of action and even then there is always the probability the odds may turn against us. It is fascinating listening to the words he uses and also recognising those he chooses not to. Interestingly it is only recently I have used the word 'cancer' in front of the kids, and even then that is only because my genius daughter read it out loud in hospital. In no way did I want them to hear negative connotations surrounding the word cancer (and this coming from a mother who regularly exclaims obscenities in direct earshot when they haven't put their shoes on after the seventh time of being told). But we have never used it. I won't go into the list of words and phrases around Keith's illness that make me angry because there is never any sense in getting angry at words. I'm not actually angry at the words anyway, I'm really only angry at the whole fucking cancer shit. NB swearing makes me feel better therefore is always fine. 

I have started using the word 'saved' a lot recently which is interesting. I find myself having moments where I feel I am saved by music/kids/work. Saved is the right word here rather than 'comforted' or 'consoled'. What is key is what I am being saved from, because really it is rarely anything scary or serious: it may be a moment of sadness, anger at a below average coffee or the intense desire to throw my Wacom pen at my computer screen - it's rarely anything really awful. I do feel it though, mostly with music. Meat Loaf saved me the other night, and I'm sure I'm not the first to say that.

So yeah, anyway, rant over. We continue to seek solace in each other and our kids and soft rock (that is mostly me) and we try to not lose our heads. It's really really really fucking hard. Thanks for reading, I feel better for saying it all. Sorry for swearing (well, half sorry). Peace out friends xxx