School half term holidays have now been and gone here in Scotland - Niamh assumed her usual position on her bed with her iPad giggling at Facebook posts and playing games. How she can amuse herself for hours on end I do not know. Nevertheless she likes it anyway. Conor generally just plays out with his little pals if its even just an "alright" day. He never feels the cold and spends all day running about, kicking a football around, climbing trees and getting dirty. Thankfully we've had a few nice sunny days this half term so he's been out and about. We've also had some horrible windy damp days when he's been rattling around under my feet so Xbox has been on too.
So, Niamh continues to do well. She's feeling unfit at the moment due to the weather really and her subsequent inability to get out walking. So, she's had an induction to the gym. She can now go to the supervised "Teen Fit" sessions at our local gym and also go along with me (*cough* no excuse now for me is there) and do some exercising. At her gym induction she was put through her paces by a fitness instructor who was also a somewhat hard taskmaster. This prompted her to ask me why people pay for a fitness trainer as it was a "bit like torture" - I had no answer for that really. What can I say? It is a bit like torture. I'm hoping the gym will improve her fitness levels and give her a sense of wellbeing so that she feels like she's actually doing something. I've actually taken up that fitness thing again myself recently and have attended Boxercise a couple of times which actually almost killed me. Such is my current lack of fitness. I had forgotten the pain. I went to bed in a 37 year olds body and woke up in an 87 year olds body. Yes, it was that bad. My friend Val said "Ah we'll laugh ourselves skinny!". I assured her that if laughing contributed to weight loss then I'd be a size zero......which I am not!
No pain - no gain is the term I believe.
Last Friday gone, Niamh also had her 3 monthly MRI scan. The usual worries that go along with that resurfaced. It's quite an irrational fear really. Us cancer parents call it "scanxiety". It's like a fear of the unknown, fear of what you don't want to know. You pray for a good clear result, no activity, no cancer basically nothing going on at the tumour site (or anywhere else for that matter). You have to go, it's common sense to keep an eye on these things and if something was going on you need to know so you can deal with it, but still the worry is there. The "what ifs" and distinct possibilities that become the norm to the parent of a child who's had cancer can consume you at times. You can't sleep, your feel sick, have a knot in your stomach, can't concentrate etc. your eyes can look like pissholes in the snow much of the time. Mulling things over is something I do a lot of when I get a spare moment. Niamh is still just off treatment and, in the grand scheme of things, is a fledgling in the world of cancer remission really. Still finding her feet and not quite able to fly yet. The thoughts that it could come back are terrifying. Don't get me wrong, I'm as positive as they come - I don't dwell on it as much as it seems I do. Niamh, Conor and Paul see to that. My mind is occupied much of the time (mostly with cooking - I do love cooking) but that's a story for another day. I don't look on the bad side much - It's just when I come to write the blog that my thoughts switch sometimes.
So, we should get the results of the MRI soon and I shall keep you all posted. Fingers are firmly crossed for a positive result there.
Until next time.