Sliding in and SAFE on second!!!!

It's here - finally! I'm on the slide, left foot forward like I stand (when I'm lucky!) on a surfboard and I'm skidding onto that second base to be declared safe! Ive run so hard the wind has whipped my hair off, I am just a little scarred and this run between first and second has been so so long. The noise of the crowd is deafening and from where I am, I can see your smiles and it swells my heart. I don't want to let you down - you've been such loyal amazing supporters and you've sustained me with beautiful notes and quotes and messages and trinkets and love. I am forever indebted to you and I am so incredibly grateful. It's approximately 1 hour off....

Yep, blog coming for the LAST time from the comfort of the chemo couch. I've already had the hand injected Cosmo given to me this time by Nurse Unit Manager Garth and now I am on the big bag of toxic fluid. 57 minutes to go and counting. When I get out of this chair I will be declared safe. I may have to lie on the base for a while, in the dust and possibly face down. And I may be slow getting to my feet, opting to go to hands and knees first. And when I get to my feet, I may need to lean on my knees for a moment to catch my breath before I finally straighten my back and stand. But once I stand, I will rise up as tall as i can and raise both arms in the air and you will see the biggest beaming smile lighting up that second base. There may even be a punch in the air. 49 minutes to go.

I've still got the symptoms to endure of course. I just don't think anything is going to rattle me this time because no matter how bad, as I dig myself out of the hole, I know I never have to go back there.

Not ever again.

And that feeling supersedes any pervading symptoms that may be waiting this time for me. Go hard chemo is all I can say. I feel like I can just about take anything on from this place. I only see victory. I only feel success. I am wrapped in love and support. I am safe.

I had the pure pleasure of engrossing myself in the Australian Open finals this year. For anyone that has the slightest interest in tennis, the men's final between Djokovic and Nadal was in my mind the most epic and extraordinary tennis match Ive ever watched. And I took something from that match which I have locked away in the corner of my psyche. These two warriors fought hard and fought long. Almost 6 hours of gruelling tennis of the highest standard. Some rally's went for over 30 strokes of the ball. And these guys know how to smash a tennis ball. It was as captivating as much as it was inspiring. The stakes were high given its a Grand Slam and both players were hungry for a win. And as I watched these two amazing athletes I really tried to focus on their body language and gain some kind of insight into the psychological battle that 6 hours of intense warfare on the court would require. They played with heart, big heart. Neither player asked for time out. They played until just after 1:30am! Both players had their chances. The switch in energy and emotions from set to set was noticeable. In my mind it really came down to psychological strength, clearly both players matched in skill and fitness (although id still back Nadal all the way), and a tiny bit of lady luck. Just two points was all it took. Psychological strength and a peppering of luck.

And as I enter this last chemo match I am taking all of the aspects of that tennis final that inspired me last Sunday night, and I'm going to try and emulate that approach. Im hungry for this win. I want it over. I will use my mind as much as I use my body to beat this. When the symptoms take me down, I won't give up. I will fight as hard today as i will next week. And the week after. I have great supports and I'm being carried by so many, I know I can't go wrong. And I feel sure I am sprinkled with just a tiny bit of lady luck. 19 minutes to go......

We were educated this time by Garth as he injected the Cosmo into me as to just how toxic these chemicals are. I now understand that those science lab people (thank you thank you thank you) have to make these chemicals up by being completely protected from head to foot and even then, undertake the work by inserting their hands into a sealed glassed box. That way it ensures any particles released stay sealed inside the pressured air inside the box and can't seep out. It's so incredibly toxic that even with all of those precautions, they are tested regularly for toxicity levels. Scary to think I now have that coursing through my veins. No wonder your hair falls out! But it's all necessary to ensure I walk away from this with a cancer free confidence. 11 minutes to go...

This blog can't be published without acknowledgement of two consistent people specifically linked to my chemo treatment. Little Kez, a woman who juggles so much in life and yet always has time for her mates. Kez has ensured that a bright bunch of flowers is sitting here every time I arrive for my treatment. Today, I particularly know is a challenging day for Kerry, and yet the flowers were still here for me. You are a diamond and i absolutely adore you - thank you. Finally to John who has insisted that he sit cycle after chemo cycle in this hospital ward with me. It's not a fun place to 'hang' and I know he has to negotiate the time lost in this ward and squeeze it somewhere else in his already overloaded schedule. I know that my cancer hasn't just affected me. In fact in some ways this cancer has travelled a long way into the lives of others. No more so than John. As I glance over at him scrunched up in the corner between my toxic couch and the one on the other side, he looks up from his reading and gives me a big smile and a wink. He can see the finish line too. And he has run this race with me, at times carrying me, adjusting his life and his commitments and investing bucket loads of emotional energy and above all love. If you think you have a best best friend, you haven't met John. 2 minutes......

This blog now posting a day late. I didn't get time to finish in the chair. Was whisked off the machine and hugged and sent off with a 'hope we never see you again' sentiment. Trust me, it's a feeling well and truly reciprocated. As lovely as they all are. I had intended on finishing at home but the chemo has come out from its corner fighting hard. It swiped at me early - within hours I felt nauseous and my body moved into rejection mode. Enough said - I've been crook. But that's ok - one more climb, that's all I have. So as I lay here on my day bed, Murphy lying on the deck beside me, I am so proud and happy to post this blog with concentrated strength and a renewed energy to get to my feet safe on second base. And when I finally raise both fists in the air please know that my gesture is in recognition of your strength and support. The love ive been shown has absolutely carried me from the minute I signed up for this game to where I am right now. A wise friend and male chemo colleague wound down his window as I was on one of my power shuffles this week and amongst other comments indicated I would be "richer for the experience". Even at the bottom of this current tunnel, I already feel that. And most of the wealth comes from the nurturing and inspiration i have been so fortunate to receive from you. Let's gear up for the dash to third team. Lots and lots of love. Kym xxx