Un-fucking-believable

They cancelled my operation.
I went to sleep last night crying missing my children so much it was tearing my heart out.
I woke up this morning engorged because I hadn’t fed the baby for 12 or more hours.
Still tearful, Still terrified.
I didn’t eat
I took my last sip of water at 6 am
Nil by mouth.
Exspressed some milk,
Got showered
Put on my paper pants and gown,
THE TERROR OF THE IMPENDING ORDEAL STILL MOUNTING.
I had an injection in my stomach to thin my blood and that stung like shit.
Bordering on hysteria as the clock ticked toward 10 I was advised to have a pre med.
20mg of tamazipan, eventually felt a lot better.
I remembered how much I enjoyed recreational drug use.
Told surgery was running late, I’d be there perhaps 12:30.
Slightly calmer, no a lot calmer, I fell asleep in my husband’s arms.
I was still scared, but fairly secure with the fact I was going to wake up from the general anaesthetic, the sky was no longer black.
My moment of relief was within reach, the burden of having cancer was almost lifted.
I woke up, and whent for what must have been my forty-something pee of the day,
upon my return a very lovely nurse was telling my mother, husband and Nicola,
That my operation had been cancelled.
I’m 22 years old
I have two small children,
I have been pissed around by the fucking National Supposed “Health” Service enough.
When I found this lump it measured around 4cm
It now (6 months on) measures 9.5cm.
I have cancer and I would like to for just five minutes be somebody’s priority.
My fault is not with the staff
Although Dr A,
I’m stating for the record
YOU SCREWED UP,
It’s not hard to flick a switch on an ultrasound machine
To establish whether or not something has a blood flow.
But the bureaucracy of it and administration system screws people around
IT’S NOT FAIR.
It feels as though time and time again I’ve drawn the short straw
You can’t tell someone their fine for months,
Dismiss their concerns out of hand,
And then when little by little you relay to the them
That they are in fact living through they’re worst nightmare
Take away their salvation.
I’m so ANGRY
I’VE GOT CANCER FOR FUCKSAKE.
I’m coping just, but I’m not strong
And I don’t know how much more I can take.
I have to keep fighting this fight,
I’m ready to go in to battle
But no one will let me.
I feel cheated.
Yes it’s not fair that I’ve got cancer,
Of everyone I know,
Not that I would wish this on anyone else,
I’m the only one with kids.
But what is even more unfair is that I’m left hanging in this torturous limbo.

Being in hospital, life, the universe and evereything

I'm in hospital, i'm terrified , i saw my children walk out the hospital doors And i'm terrified i'm not going to see them again.CANCER IS TERRIFYING. My children are my raison d'etre, There was a moment after my eldest was born, a euphoric moment, i'm writing it down not just in case, i feel he needs to know this, but also because i think about it and even through my fear it makes me smile from my head to my Toes, and my insides brim with joy. so B this is our moment , You were a few hours old, the first night i could hold you in my arms instaed of cradling you in my bellly. It was fairly late the ward lights were off and i had just fed you on a piloww, we hadn't quite mastered the art yet and i lay you down still on the pillow, you were all tucked up, you hadn't stretched your wings yet my baby angel. it was the first time you had really opened your eyes and they were that deep magical blue of all newborn creatures and it was as though we drank each other in, i gave you a little of my soul and you let me touch yours. I knew what it was to be a mother, I promise Baby angel i'm winning the fight.
My pudding, how is it I'm lucky enough to have been sent two angels? O. you just melted into this little family, there was nothing scary and intimidating about becoming your mother. You have inherited your fathers temperment, your heartbeat didn't even increase in labour and then there you were, you didn't cry, you carried on sleeping but the suggestion of mummy milk appealed, we didn't struggle an old hand and a novice you and i, it was as though you had always been. I think my gorgeous boy that a place had been set for you at our table long before you were a twinkle in your fathers eye.
And now to hospital, well apart from the quaking fear of tommorrow,its too hot and sticky and the food is SHIT, but everyone's lovely and very kind. They've all made their best efforts to be reassuring. Every one is so genorus when you have cancer, with time, kindness etc. There is one person i feel let down by but i don't really want to discuss it. my parents have down themselves proud, of course they have their own agendas( not meant with any malice) My mother to mother me , in every sense which tough appricated is hard , because that then defines my role as a baby, and i need to be strong and grown up, because if i fall apart i'm not sure i'll be able to put the pieces back together. My father aside from appeasing his own fears, and projecting them on to me slightly, I think feels he needs to truly be a father to me now, in a way he never has been before, not to alleviate his guilt regarding his absence but prahaps he is suddently been made aware that I need him. The problem here is that in my fathers presence I become a vunerable five year old and therefore identifying myself as an adult who is equip to deal with this is differcult. My mother needs me to cry in her arms and my father needs to be responsible, taking charge and understanding medical jargon on my behalf. I need them to love me, which they are doing- thank you. But I need them to understand that its my husbands hand I need to hold, its his arms that shield me from the world as I greive for this that has befallen me. This has become a strange blog. Its not a good bye, fuck no,I’m fighting on, I just need to say this stuff, I’ve wanted to blog for days but events have kind of snowballed. Its a lot of I love you’s because I need them to be heard, its a lot of thank yous , there’s a fuck you in here to but I can’t be bothered to say it.
My husband my rock , my anam cara, I don’t even know how to say how much, no amount of eloquence can convey what I feel towards you or our beautiful boys. I thought in this blog I would rant, get angry and be appaled at the unfairness of it all, I thought I’d be scared and tearful- I feel loved, family and friends, I feel calmer for writing this for conjuring those magical moments with my babies in my mind. I’m not leaving you not for a second. I love you so much it hurts.
I’m going for a shower and to phone my husband and then read my book (Chloe shows me she cares through literature)
I’M NOT FUCKING DYING.
My three boys are my raison d’etre.

no more whinging

well i'm married now and apart from a serious case of nerves on my part and my mother, as is typical, falling over - not drunkenly I hasten to add, it went with out hitch and was utterly lovely. thank you all for coming, well chlo, that is, as you are i'm certain the only person that reads my rambling. So back to cancer, and i'm feeling slightly more chipper about this, potentially this time next week i may not have cancer any more, which although the getting from a to b (so to speak) is going to be greuling, no its going to horendous, but it could all be over. I had my mri scan today, unpleasant, btu after some deep breaths and a bit of visualization bearable. i'm determinded i'm going to be okay.
i'll be back later but my train of thought has gone and i want to play with my shiny new ipod photo

untitled

well, where to begin? i'm getting married the day after tommorrow! i best not start my little rant about weddings because its not little and i'm sure its fairly nasaueating to read, suffice to say i wish we'd eloped.
also a week from today i go in to hospital for my surgury. I'm having the tumor removed together with a large portion of my stomach muscles and then a plastic mesh will be used to stop my guts spilling out, and redundant muscles from my back, will be twisted round to be used to reconstruct my stomach muscles. grim huh. about four hours on the operating table. truth be told i'm terrified, i'm scared of the pain, i can't cope with the fact that i'm going in to hospital suposedly healthy, and coming out an invalid, but my biggest fear is that i'm not going to come out at all, or rather i'll leave hospital in my box. i'm watching sex and the city, its the one where steve has cancer and the operation, its not good for me, i keeping thinking thats me next week, the fact that i know steve turns out fine and marries miranda is slightly reassuring.
i'm a pessimist so it did cross my mind when i first found my lump that it could be cancerous but after being so readily dismissed by numerous health proffesionals, having my worst fears realised came as a bit of a shock. there is things i feel i should do before my operation, just in case, but i don't want to because its so hard and i shouldn't really allow that thought to enter my consciousness. I'm done for this evening i'm too slow at typing, and i feel like i've just drivilled shit for ages.

why cancer's crap and wedding are a bloody nightmare

I had a thought last night whilst putting my eldest to sleep, nobody ever says, oh i'm sorry i can't make it to the funeral, its too short notice, and yet this is the response i recieve from most family members when i invite them to my wedding. this is then of course followed by making me feel very guilty for not considering there prior engagements when arraging my marriage. I'm trying not to dwell to much on the fact that they might find the motivation to attend my funeral, I'm trying not to think macabre thoughts,but it is hard, particuly when one has recently been diagnosed with cancer. I wasn't sure what to call my blog and i don't want to define who i am by my illness, but it is a general feeling at the moment, cancer is crap. its not shit i'm sure its going to be, i'm sure its going to be absolutly fucking awful, but right now its just crap. My name is Lorna Sylvester soon to be Lorna Walton, I'm 22 and I have soft tissue sarcoma, a tumor in my abdominal wall measuring 7 or so centimetres, apart from that my life is good, I'm healthy, I'm marrying the man i love (next week) and i have two beautiful sons who are my everything. I called it cancer's crap in the hope that someone else with cancer may stumble across this, and if not then it is to be a record of my journey and i hope to meet some interesting people along the way

Testing

testing testing one 2 three, does it work? are you hearing me okay at the back?