I dreamt that I had my very own support group at a hospital where my dad was having treatment. These are either the people I would want around me, or I have been watching too much television. My lovely group were diverse and supportive, also having family battling cancer.
There was Tom, the kind gay boy, Jack, the funny, stoic guy, a lovely, shy black girl that I didn't get a name for in the dream, and some other people. It wasn't a "sit around and swap sob stories until you reach catharsis" group. It was more of a "hook up, have coffee, and talk rubbish" group.
So that was nice. And also a dream. My brain likes dreaming about chemotherapy recently. I find myself in hospitals a lot. My father is still about 5 days off his next round, and I have gone back to London, so god knows where my head is.
I am trying to get back to work. What I mean is that I am tentatively beginning to plan things, make things happen, in the full knowledge that I may have to cancel them, but caring less. I would like to be able to apply for jobs in February or March, just because I figure something will have to have happened by then. this is a total fallacy, but my brain is unwilling to accept a future where everything is still misty in 4 months. So I have picked a date out of the air. We shall see if I am right.
The 1st December draws nearer. I am loathe to believe that our entire futures hang on the balance of this one day, or one set of tests. Because I have seen how these kinds of expectations have gone so far: "We will know much more once we have a diagnosis." "We will know much more once we know if these are other growths". "We will know much more once we know if it is genetic". It's all bullshit. We are never any wiser about what the future holds, so I am not going to pin my hopes on this time. It's just common sense.