Sunday 10th September
I’m lying awake, googling the shit out of lung cancer. The survival rates are SHIT. If it’s stage 3a then only 20 odd people out of 100 will live for 5 yrs. 5yrs. Any stage beyond that and obviously the rates are lower. But what if it’s not stage 3?
The problem is that lung cancer is not often (16%) diagnosed at an early stage. Often, it’s a secondary cancer!! Holy f*ck, bedtime reading tonight is stinging my eyes.
My son is 5. He might lose his beloved Nanna before he is 10. I might lose my mum before I’m 43. That’s f*cked up!! My Mum’s mum is still alive. She’s 92 years old.
My Mum is 66 years old and still has her mum.
I NEED my mum.
She means everything to me. I need her to live for my son. He can’t lose her. He can’t! It would be too much.
How would I get through it and not leave him scarred and distressed by it? How would I hold myself together?
I need to get tough. I need to be strong. I need to write even though it won’t be published. I need this out of my head so that I can sleep.