Thank you so much for all your good wishes, your cyber-hugs, your love and your words.

It means the world.

I am in a weird place. Saying to myself all the time that the first tests were good – and that that´s gotta mean something. Then deciding to forget that the second doctor was so sure that it was still malign just from seing it. Even though, of course I can´t forget it. But she did tell me, that this is something I am going to get over – that I will be ok! She told me that.

So that´s what I keep saying to myself over and over again. Sometimes through tears. And sometimes while planning the funeral in my head. I guess that it´s normal to act that way, when you think of cancer.

I still don´t really understand it. And sometimes I forget it. I go for two minutes doing something else, and it suddenly hits me. Bang! There is cancer in me.

Before I had the examinations I had been having so many bad dreams. Stress-dreams where I would forget the wedding, forget that I had a family, forget all kinds of things and make bad decisions, and I have been used to waking up thinking Phewwwww, so good it was just a nightmare. I did that the other day with this. I closed my eyes for a minute and drifted off, then woke up and thought, oh dear what a crappy dream, only to realize that it was real.

It´s still real.

But I´m saying the words – the first tests were good – I will be ok!

Please say them with me.

So today was awful.

Just right out awful.

I found out Lene has died, and it made me so so sad. And I thought it was a bad sign for the day.

Went to the hospital for my appointment and had the pleasure of first hearing that the growth was good – and not cancerous.

Then the most painful examination to date. But I got through it thinking that I was ok, and that the doctor just needed to see for herself how it looked up there before sending me off to surgery.

Then after seeing the growth for herself the doctor changed her mind, and told me that it actually was bad.

That it was an ugly one.

So now I have cancer.

Cancer.

And I don’t understand it at all.

In less than ten days I have gone from a person with bowel problems, to someone who might have cancer, to someone who has cancer.

Going to some scans tomorrow to figure out how bad it is and for the doctors to see how they will get it out of me.

No words really.

I don’t want to dwell on it but its hard not to. It’s right there shouting in my face constantly. Every time I am painfully at the toilet it screams death to me.

I choose to ignore it. I choose love and kisses. Looking at the trees in my garden. Snuggling up to the sweeties in bed.

9 more days before there is an answer and I can perhaps breathe again.