The Best Medicine

Did not mean to sound so morose in my last post - I thought I was being stoic, but according to A, it sounds as if I'm constantly thinking of death. Admittedly, it has crossed my mind - it's inevitable when the C word comes up. But! I don't think I'm going to die - well, I will, eventually, but not from this wretched curse.

So! We're on holiday and arrived in South Africa yesterday morning. This is a trip A and I have been looking forward to for so long - although we're seasoned travellers (we've lived in six different countries, and that doesn't count another two countries A lived in before we married) we've somehow never made it to Africa. I've been very excited about this trip, not just to see the beauty that South Africa has to offer, but also because I'm wanting to get away from the this whole cancer thing, if only for two weeks. After all, when we get back, we hit the ground running.

One of the first things I asked my doctor (aka Dr Tit-man) after the diagnosis was whether or not we would still be able to go on our long-awaited holiday. We were very relieved when he said yes, with the only proviso that we have fun. Admittedly, I was wary - all I wanted was to do was to excise the evil growth off my body. But he assured me that two weeks would make no difference whatsoever. And in the less than 36 hours that we've been here, I can tell you that he was wrong. Being in this stunning part of the world, with family and beautiful friends, has lifted my spirits no end and I am feeling so much more positive. I will beat this!