It's not mine
She grins her familiar grin as another lady stands and walks towards her
Hi I'm Naomi I hear her say
Five years ago I answered her call, stood up, grabbed my stick and wobbled across to meet her, my reading glasses still perched on my head, my knitting hastily stuffed back into my bag.
I followed her into a room...
Five years. It's such a long time, but as it sit here watching it only feels like yesterday.
It's hard to believe that those five years have passed. The whir of diagnosis. Biopsy. Surgery. More results. Chemotherapy. A bald shiny head and never ending nausea. Tattoos for radiotherapy before I popped out at the end of the tunnel with a prescription for Tamoxifen clutched in my pale, shaky hand.
Five years ago.
But this time my heart doesn't pound, nausea doesn't rise in my stomach, my palms are not sweaty.
I breathe easy. No more bad news today when my name is called.
I want to wave to her and say hello but I know the lady she is seeing needs her uninterrupted attention as she embarks on the journey.
So I just smile to myself in the knowledge that the lady is in good hands.
For me today is just a review. Do I want to keep taking the tablets.
Yes.
Without a doubt I tell my surgeon when he asks.
He reminds me that there is a chance that some cancer still lurks, clutching to cell walls, waiting for its chance to start multiplying again. But the Tamoxifen should stop it. Block it. Halt its troublesome progress.So for as long as they'll let me I will continue to swallow the pills.
Meanwhile I will keep making the most of my life full of family and friends.
I am Rich with kindness and love.
