Um, not good. Yesterday, I was browsing through a magazine, when I came across an article on breast cancer. I convinced myself not to read it, passed it by, but stupidly, went back to it and read it.
My cancer is one of 10/15% of those that isn't responsive to hormone blocking treatment. This means it is harder to treat. The grade (3) means it is aggressive and fast growing. I really wish I hadn't read it. Within minutes of finishing the article I was crying, convinced yet again that I was going to die. Give R his due, despite our constant bickering at the moment (he's stopped smoking), he was kind and supportive, although I'm also upset that his training course corresponds with my first chemo treatment.
Today, I've been feeling my boob. It's very lumpy but the place where I thought I felt the second lump is still, well, lumpy. Oh god, oh god. I've talked to myself; one consultant, one radiologist, two nurses, have checked it. They've all reassured me it isn't another lump. I'm WILLING myself to believe it. I do partly believe that many of them wouldn't get it wrong. But not completely.
I told R yesterday that the stress of all of this makes me feel like ending it all. He was surprised. To his mind, the only reason to do that is if the pain of illness makes life unbearable. This fear feels pretty unbearable. How DO I learn to bear it?
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