Cold comfort…

By 19 November 2016 No Comments

It’s been a funny old week.

Ever since this whole cancer schmancer ‘thing’ started all those years ago it only ever takes me feeling a bit below par for my mood to plummet and so when I found myself laid low and bed bound on Tuesday it wasn’t long before the gremlins were out in full force.

I hate being ill. Hate what it does to my spirit not to mention my state of mind.  Just a cold, you say? To me, it’s another reason to lie awake at night thinking the darkest of thoughts and wondering if my body is trying to tell me something.  Measly mouth ulcers? Chemotherapy reminders, more like.Nothing is simple anymore when it comes to my body and how it’s behaving.‘Oh, there’s so much going round at the moment,’ friends and colleagues say reassuringly.  Is there? Really?  Do you promise?  And, for a moment, I let myself exhale and the internal anxiety subsides. For a moment.

I should ban myself from social media, TV, newspaper headlines and the outside world in general when I’m like this. I seem to attract the gloom.  Turn on the radio and yep, there’s an advert for funeral cover.  Even an innocent episode of First Dates sent me sobbing into the bathroom the other night. Picture a lovely scene of marital contentment – hubby and me snuggled up in bed, eating a few cheeky maltesers, watching our guilty pleasure and high fiving each other with relief that our dating days are over.   Our munching stopped as we watched a bright eyed, gorgeous young woman calmly inform her dinner date that she had terminal cancer and had no idea what her future held. I did that thing I do when I’m not in a good place.  Leapt out of bed like a crazy person, put my fingers in my ears and hid in the bathroom until it was safe to come back out.  I put my fingers in my ears a lot when it comes to cancer.  I need to stop.  The woman on First Dates was amazing.  She’s out there and she’s truly living despite a prognosis that might not be the best.  I’ve had a cold this week.  A cold. I need to get a grip.
It’s not helped that I’m about to hit ‘anniversary’ season.  This time two years ago I was flying high and then everything crumbled.  Again. Hmmm. I suppose I can let myself off the hook for being scared of a cold. Can’t I?

Emma Campbell

Author Emma Campbell

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