In response to a text asking what’s up from a very dear friend of mine. I started to respond nothing. Just waiting waiting waiting. It’s killing me. I chuckled at the irony and was about to hit send, when I thought. Shit is it too soon? Too soon for humour, albeit dark. So I didn’t. But I wished I had, because she would have got it. And it’s honest. And I prefer it to the gentle pity and sadness I feel around me. Please don’t be scared of me and this thing. Or for me. I get why you are and I love you for it, but don’t be. I’m really not. I’m just annoyed I have to find a new label. I was liking the nearly 10years cancer free one. But as B said, stop labelling stuff. And he’s right, I do. I realised that as through my initial fuck my life tears I said to him, I loved that Kate and Jem were the girls whose mom had had cancer, not the girls whose mom has cancer. Really just cos I can’t stand the pity. For me, for them, for us. But I know its source. That damn fear. And I understand it. And I love you all for it. But I release you all from it. It’s killing me.

So where am I? In bed with two gorgeous dogs for company, healing and waiting for my petscan on Thursday and oncologist feedback thereafter. Waiting waiting waiting.