Yesterday, we went to the hospital (or rather, the haematology outpatients) to report for duty, and were given the final diagnosis and treatment plan, which is basically a) he can take all chemotherapy drugs, including the one that is toxic to the heart and b) he does not have Philadelphia syndrome, which basically means he doesn't have the type of leukaemia with poor prognosis.
After feeling high the other day, I now feel pretty low. Derek is coping remarkably well, seems fairly cheerful despite being without much energy, and hiccupping constantly which must be very unpleasant ( I think it's the steroids).
Now that there seems a strong, if eventual, hope of remission, I am beginning to grieve over the disruption to our plans, namely, having to cancel our holiday to South Africa. I realise that I am being dragged out of my comfort zone, which, I see, depends on the possibility of getting away from time to time, especially to exotic locations. Added to the disappointment factor is guilt and feeling selfish.
Additionally I find that he is irritating me - perhaps it is his cheerfulness, and the fact that he doesn't seem frustrated about the abandonment of our plans. So after a hectic morning, I collapse onto the sofa sewing and reading; I also make plans to go to the cinema, which makes me feel slightly better.
I feel appallingly selfish that I should even think about him considering my feelings. But this is what this blog is about - my chance to have a good old moan.
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