Mum, will she die?

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I’m going to be honest, I’m getting a bit sick of this cancer. It seems to be on a mission to test a whole load of my friends and quite frankly I have had enough. Last year as I walked to work I had a call from a friend to tell me she had some news. I told her that if she had a new job I would batter her and she calmly told me she had cancer. My immediate response was that it was ok but what if your hair comes in curly like Merida from Brave.
Appropriate? Of course not.
Delighted to say she has kicked cancer into touch and is sporting a lovely blonde pixie cut!
A few weeks ago I spent the day in hospital as one of my oldest friends had her first chemo.
She called me about 8 weeks ago to say she had a lump and was going for tests but they thought it was breast cancer. I immediately went into the what about your hair routine, you better not embarrass me routine. I came off the phone to her, called my mum and had a small meltdown as I walked to work.
A flurry of tests and appointments later, I went with her to meet her consultant. She was shaking and while I was in bits on the inside, I couldn’t let her see it.
Sitting there being brave for my fried was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do.(selfish I know,it wasn’t me who was ill) So the consultant broke the news, it has spread but they can get it.
Who needs breasts and lymph nodes anyway?
So in the space of a few weeks it has been a list of things to do and sort before finishing work and starting treatment.
We spent a day getting tests and her pre chemo visit. The staff were amazing as we asked questions about the daftest of things.
The following day was her first chemo and we had another day in the hospital. We laughed about the fact we had 2 whole days together but it was perhaps a bit extreme that she had to get cancer for us to get some time together. It did get me thinking about priorities though.
Sitting with her and chatting away about nonsense as she had her chemical cocktail really was a privilege. Just to be there.
We are now heading towards session 3 and I am delighted to see how she is responding.Her hair has started to come out and despite having her wig, she’s sporting some wonderful scarves and looking very bohemian. She’s decided to use the time to get back in to her languages and is reading a lot. She calls it the wee c and is determined to get through it and get better. So that means that we need to do the same.
Selfishly I have cried on my own, but would never let her see that. I guess this is where you realise what friendship really means. I’ve realised what her friendship means to me. Where you can tell your pal her wig looks like a deid rat in the box, where she can talk about the decisions about her career and you can both cry having had the what if chat.
Ridiculous that it took for her to have cancer for us to get a day together. Lesson learned.

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