Treatment starts next week - I’ve already got a couple of chemo sessions lined up.

Weird limbo between waiting and not waiting. I’m enjoying my last few days as a healthy(ish) person, going to work, preparing supper, doing stuff in the weekends, talking about mundane stuff. Enjoying the full use of my able body as it is - before the hospital chemoes the hell out of it. I’m not sure what to expect, I mean, I’ve read the list of side-effects, but like everyone repeats to me (it must be in a manual somewhere) every person’s reaction is different. It won’t be real before it happens.

I’m also eating a little more - or rather not stopping myself when reaching for that extra plateful or sweet. Like preparing for a bad cold, or for a long siege. Not sure I’ll need that extra stored fat - but you never know. Survival mode.

Some anxiety, too. Even before my diagnosis I had a touch of hypochondria - product of having two medical doctors as parents. Now every twinge, every discomfort starts Red Alert sirens. Metastasis! Secondary Cancer! .. followed by a period of slow and controlled breathing. I phoned the Breast Unit nurses to ask when I should start worrying - and they explained patiently that unless I have actual symptoms or an ache that doesn’t get dulled by over-the-counter pain killer I probably shouldn’t worry. And that everyone in my situation feels this way. But! What if she’s wrong? What if I don’t feel it, and it’s nesting in some harmless corner of my body?

But i’d better get used to that fear, because it’s probably going to be with me for the rest of my (hopefully reasonably long) life. To revisit a well-polished cliche, this is the new normal, for me. Tumors are going to be a component of my mental landscape now, it’s up to me to make sure they only get a tastefully discreet part in it.