I read this with baited breath. I honestly hope Anthony’s relapse continues for a long long time
A year ago I had a relapse of my cancer.
Except I didn’t.
For a week or so I knew I was ill again. I saw it in the doctors’ eyes and felt it in the tremble of their hands as they prodded my internal organs, meeting my own eyes with a look that was part nod, part sadness.
No one outside of my immediate family knew.
For a week we hunkered down, ate soup and spoke to nobody. Normal things continued: teaching, working, shopping, writing, even blogging.
There is no point, we said to each other, not until we know.
Except we did know. We absolutely knew.
It began so similarly to my original diagnosis, with pain. Searing, crawling into work bent double and being sent home, no, to the doctors immediately, Anthony! That kind of pain.
Pain. Crying for a day under the duvet pain.
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