This week is a glorious week. After six, long, often horrendous months of intense, at times terrifying and at others painful, treatment, Yasmin is scheduled to start maintenance tomorrow. This means intense chemotherapy is over and 18 months of maintenance chemo will begin.
In the early dark days and the times when our lives have been a living nightmare since then, as we juggled caring for a new baby with our daughter’s hospital admissions, Andrew and I consoled ourselves by saying as long as we can get through this first six months and get to maintenance everything will get easier. We just have to get through this.
Now, here we are.
As the intense chemotherapy is dependent on blood counts, Yasmin's treatment has been delayed several weeks throughout the course. The start of maintenance is also count dependent so could have been delayed yet another week. I didn’t realise how tense I was about this until the text came through from the nurse with the weekly blood count results. As soon as I saw the numbers stating Yasmin’s neutrophils were high enough to begin, I burst into tears and then sobbed uncontrollably for ten whole minutes while my daughter looked at me in alarm. A cork had been popped from a highly pressurised bottle. The relief was immense.
|Yasmin combing mummy's hair|
Yasmin is fitter now than she has been since last June. Her legs, which had wasted away after she didn’t walk for three whole months, have taken on muscle definition and can now support her well when she starts to dance, one of her favourite activities.
She is due to start nursery two mornings a week from next week and after eight months at home or in hospital she is looking forward to making new friends.