Waking up in the morning aching. Being hungry but unable to feed. Saving up my energy (spoons) for just a visitor. Dreaming of not being able to swallow. Planning my funeral..
I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on with me. One minute I’ll be laughing (yes! Full on laughing) and the next I’ll be thinking of all the things I won’t get to do – See Sylvie and Calum grow up, watch Sylvie get married, go to uni, buy a house, protect my little siblings from the big wide world, etc. I know I should be thinking of all the things I have done but they don’t compare to me actually being my own older person.
I keep thinking of mum and dad after ‘it happens’ and how they’ll have so much to do and it will be horrible. My room will have to be cleared out, post will come with my name on it, they’ll go to restaurants and order tables for 5 by accident.
I didn’t know what the hell I was talking about when I did that post about death a while ago. You should have sat me down and told me not to be so naive and stupid. Death is horrible. I feel like a ticking time bomb, although I have finally agreed that if it was to be imminent then they would have told us.
The tumour is so big. I feel out of my depth.