Life Doesn't Stop Just Because You're Waiting

Well, it's been quite a couple of weeks.

When I last wrote, I was wondering whether my days of watch and wait were finally coming to an end.

Today, I had a phone call from haematology.

My latest CT scan has shown plenty of new lymph nodes, and they're arranging an urgent PET scan to investigate further.

So, it looks like things are moving along. Whether that means treatment is around the corner, I still don't know.

More scans. More questions. More waiting.

And all the while, life carries on.

In the middle of all this, we've had a new boiler fitted, Fin has moved into his own place, and we've shifted enough furniture around to start our own removals company.

And somehow, we've acquired a vintage floral chair that looks like it's escaped from a particularly colourful corner of the 1970s.

Shain calls it a piece of history.

I suspect the dog will call it her new bed.

Honestly, you couldn't make some of this stuff up.

When your head says yes and your body says absolutely not

The fatigue has been something else lately.

And the frustrating thing is that I still want to do things. I look around the house and see jobs that need doing. I have plans, ideas and things I want to get on with.

But sometimes my body simply isn't interested.

There have been days when getting comfortable on the sofa is about as productive as I'm going to get.

And I'm trying to learn that this is okay.

Not easy for someone who has spent most of her life being busy, looking after other people and generally finding something to do.

But I'm learning. Slowly. With occasional swearing.

Finding the funny in the middle of it all

One thing I refuse to lose is my sense of humour.

Not because everything is funny. It certainly isn't.

But because sometimes laughing at the ridiculous things in life makes the difficult bits a little easier to live alongside.

A completely bonkers chair. The chaos of moving furniture. The animals supervising everything while contributing absolutely nothing.

These are the things that make an ordinary day feel ordinary again.

And ordinary is rather lovely when so much else feels uncertain.

So, what happens next?

An urgent PET scan, followed by more conversations with my haematology team about what happens next.

I don't have all the answers yet.

I know the lymphoma is showing changes, and I know I've been feeling increasingly unwell. What I don't know is exactly what the next stage will look like.

For now, I'm trying not to spend tomorrow's energy worrying about things I can't control today.

Some days I'll be busy. Some days I'll manage very little.

And some days, apparently, we'll buy another chair.

Because life doesn't stop just because you're waiting.

Living with lymphoma, laughing when I can and swearing when I can't.

Sara ❤️