I had a nice day. I had a nice chat with people at work (prompted by some big Work News), lunch with probably my favourite colleague (don't tell him I said that, though), my meeting with HR (which was really nice) and, finally, a dinner with my friend and a couple of beers. I went nuts - Korean for lunch and Thai for tea. Yummy.
When the time came to leave, I felt genuinely sad and almost cried on Long Acre on the way to Covvy G. We often complain about work and fear getting up in the morning and going in, but all of this has thrown everything into sharp relief. It was almost like I didn't want my day to end - I certainly had to tear myself away from my friend.
But the truth is this has to end now. I have to start the process of recovery and, sure, this has been a fortuitously painless cancer but the truth also is that I'm currently dying with it attached to me. That has to end. I have to beat it, and to beat it I need strong drugs coupled with a strong mind.
I've been really worried about chemotherapy, as you might expect, not because of what it's doing but because of the side effects. I've talked to lots of lovely people and the overriding conclusion I've drawn is that it simply effects people differently - people have reported varying degrees of incapacitation and varying side effects. The truth is, I just don't know what's going to happen to me tomorrow and over the weekend. And this is strange.
At 25, you've gotten many, many firsts out of the way. First day at school. First love. First sex. First heartbreak. First day of university. The next for most people is their wedding, or first child. For me, it's this. It really highlights the fact that, with no informed experience to fall back on, I'm just as scared as I was when I was going to Big School for the first time. But, equally, I know that I will experience it and come out the other side better for it. I'm simply one of the unfortunate few who will need to go through this.
So, here we are. I've planned with work - dependent on how I take the chemo - to go back in next Friday and work, in effect, every other week. That'll give me some normality (I spoke about the importance of this in a previous blog) and also the human contact that I will need.
It won't be easy. But it's essential. And that's what I'll keep telling myself right up until the moment the chems hit the cannula tomorrow.
I'm also having the bone marrow biopsy tomorrow. I'll update when I can on how I'm feeling and doing as soon as I can.
And finally - as this is a journal - I think I need a pre-chemo selfie of the main visible area of impact so I can chart its decline over the next few months. Which will also see me reclaim my jawline. Which is very important in my obvious future career as a Eurasian model (joking... sort of... please sign me up if you're reading this and someone who can hook me up ;)):
Yep, that's me, in my bathroom, the day before chemotherapy started (Thurs 29 Jan 2015). Model scouts: it's my "bad side". But you can see the crick in my neck where the main cluster of nodes are lumped up, and where my jawline has been lost due to the size of them. Can't wait for this to go down over time.
I might not be able to write tomorrow / over the weekend, but, if I can, I will.
This is the start of Tom 2.0. When the sickness ends and my cure begins. It won't be pretty, and I am not pretty, and I won't be pretty, but it'll get me better. And that is all I want in the world.
Onwards. Upwards.
Tom
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