I am a grown up. I am a 28 year old with multiple myeloma and I try everyday to do what any normal 28 year old person living in London would do…. So forgive me.
It is then, with sadness, that I announce that something that has been with me since I started my journey has been lost. He held me high when I could not do it myself. He supported me when I walked. He supported me in those early days when I could not stand up from the toilet. He was there when I needed to go to Sainsbury’s to buy my Soreen. He got me out of bed when I could not stand by myself. He told everybody that I was poorly. He held my hand nobody else would.
He, is my Walking Stick. My beautiful NHS issue Walking Stick with the broken handle. Dewy eyed. I am so sorry I left you in my taxi. Remorse. I am so sorry I got drunk and temporarily forgot that I had cancer and I needed you. I am so sorry I forgot you were my amour. You were there when I needed you and I just left you, I forgot about you because finding my hat, at the time, was more important. It wasn’t. You were a part of My Journey. You should have been in my shrine. You represented my progress every time I looked at you or every time I held you and realised I didn’t need you anymore. You became a nuisance, a liability. You made it clear that the Zometa had progressed my bones to the humping Starfish, and what did I do? I showed you my gratitude by forgetting your existence.
I genuinely do not know how I will cope without you. You were my treasure. You were my silver. You were adjustable. You made my life easier for so long. I am 28 with myeloma and you protected me.
How am I going to get on a bus tomorrow without you?
Bye bye My Love. You will never know how much you meant to me.
P.S. I totes just vomited.