An Anniversary

I should have hit the ‘post’ button yesterday for this post to have had a more dramatic impact. Unfortunately, I really did fight with fatigue.

One year ago, I was struggling to manage the side effects of chemotherapy in 30 degree heat. Today, I am struggling to manage the side effects of chemotherapy in 30 degree heat. Sweat, it would appear, is my constant companion. One year ago, I was in the Macmillan Cancer Centre on Huntley Street, where I also happen to find myself today. The difference between the 17 July this year and the 17 July last year, is that last year, I had a stem cell transplant.

The difference between then and now, my friends, could have been so much more. Two months ago, it was.

Events of the last month have made any celebration of the date worthless, and even the acknowledgement of the date seems futile. Sure, I got a few good months and a holiday from it, but I did not get enough. Realistically, I am not sure if I would have ever been happy with the inevitable relapse, but I would have liked very much to have celebrated today. To me, unless I was going to go down the path of self pity, which I do not feel like doing, the only point of worth now is recognising that Tottenham Court Road remains as equally vile in this heat as it did in 2013.

Today could have been something special, something worthy of cake and balloons and a bottle of half price prosecco. It is not though. Instead, today just happens to be a day where I have a clinic appointment, will fight my fatigue before socialising for 3 hours before the fatigue sets in again and I need my bed, all accompanied by a particularly bad twinge in my back because I decided to pick up the bath mat this morning. Today then, is just another day.

No parties. No celebration. Just myeloma.

EJB x

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3 thoughts on “An Anniversary

  1. Terri J says:

    You are still here. I know it is not the way you want it to be but it’s better than the alternative. That’s the 60 year old mother of a myeloma patient talking. Last night my daughter tried so hard to hold it in but she broke down & cried (via Skype) because she is so fatigued from the revilmid she feels like she doesn’t have a life. She drags herself to her full time job & is so exhausted she can’t socialize. The weekends are spent catching up on sleep & strength. Before diagnoses she was so active & vibrant always doing things. She deals with things quietly & amazes me. She knows things won’t be like before but just wants a little of it back. My heart breaks for the 2 of you being so young & forced to fight this.

  2. Carol Symons says:

    Emma Jane I just love your posts! You really are a talented writer! I am just 6 months post transplant, retired today and soon will be winging it back to Australia. Keep your spirits up!

  3. I posted a reply before but I think I did something wrong, so here I go again. It has been a heartbreak for you to not get the response you deserved and desired from the transplant. But I know a good number of people who have continued on with other medications and done well. It is my intention that this will work for you, too. Sending you loving lights of healing from across the pond.

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