To be home

I had a real mixed bag of news yesterday. I have been put on a new medication for the dysmotility syndrome which is great but it can take up to a month to start working which was a bit devastating to be honest.

I've been warned I am in for a very rough few weeks and am surprised how weak I have become already. It's going to be a battle to get back to the level of health that I was at before I came in but sure enough I will get there. You can put your money on it. It's a safe bet.

I am going for a scan tomorrow, in a lay it all out there blog I might as well tell you that when scanning my bowel last week they happened to find cysts on my ovaries. I know... I know.

I will let you dwell on how unfair that is instead of me doing it. I cannot begin to head down that road. Can you just do me a favour and be really pissed off, maybe throw something and let out a few duck words. May I suggest something that may or may not sound like OH FOR DUCKS JAKE. Ta.
We will learn more about them tomorrow. There's a chance they come and go at various stages in my cycle.

The good news is that I should be home by the end of the week. The not so good news is that I will be leaving no better then when I came in. I still haven't responded to any treatment yet. I can't lie and pretend that the thought of the leaving feeling so awful isn't overwhelming but god I want to be home.

It's times like this that make me marvel at our inner strengths. It's funny isn't it, the things we do to get by. I remember when I was recovering a hip surgery that I had in Reading over 12 months ago now. I played a song by Greg Page called 'Give me some time' relentlessly.

It was like it was going to be ok... I was going to be ok as long as that song kept playing. It became a mantra. I was in such a deep shock bought on by that whole ordeal that I got a bit stuck in not getting the feels about it all. "Give me some time" the song says "To rest my head and bury myself deep inside, let me go and be myself, give me a memory of you"

I drew such enormous strength from that song. I needed to have a memory of myself. The strength came from that song and bizarrely the smell of my daughter's hair.

I would kiss her on the top of the head and inhale deeply. Filling my lungs and my soul with everything that it meant to be a mother.

There are times in all our lives when we have to find an inner strength we may never suspect we have. But it's there. Take my word for it. It is there. It is like feeling the sun on your face. You can't reach out and grab it with both hands but you can feel it, you know it's there.

I will find what it takes to get me through the next few weeks, it may feel overwhelming now but we'll get through it and I'll still be all the things I am. A mother. A wife. A daughter. A sister. A friend. A woman. A Chloe.

To quote a talented singer songwriter who happens also to be one of my bestfriend's husband...

"The birds will still be singing and the songs will still be sung and the sun will still be shining in the slums."