Monday morning, and it almost seems as if life is back to normal. I'm not beset with fatigue and I've managed to haul myself out of bed without much difficulty. However, it's not quite the same. The twins are leaving this morning for a week-long school trip, yet I'm at home rather than waving maniacally at them whilst they look down at me (with embarrassment) from the windows of their bus. Eldest son C has walked to the neighbour's house so that they can take him to school this morning and LH's mum has tidied up the detritus of breakfast. These small seemingly inconsequential events that I am unable to do, or partake of, are causing me great frustration.
I hate the feeling of helplessness and reliance that seems to be the mainstay of cancer; it almost feels like a loss of identity. Because if I cannot do what I am supposed to do, as a mother, wife, or friend, how else would I define myself? I do not want to be the third leg in the dynamic, the 'saling-pusa' as we say in the Philippines, the hanger-on with no discernible purpose.
I am truly hoping that this is a temporary state of affairs. I am feeling better so look forward to doing the school run before the end of this week. I never thought I would say that; but then, it's only when the inconsequential things are taken away from you that you realise that what was once trivial is actually a matter of consequence.