Session number 2.
It really is very horrible sitting there watching these gallons of chemicals getting shoved into your veins, but the nurses are so fab that you just end up chatting away as if you're having a cuppa.
In the days of the dreaded breast clinic waiting room, you sit there quietly worrying; studying the faces of other women quietly worrying. Whenever I was there, there always seemed to be another young woman there. She always had her elderly mother with her, and I always had my lovely husband, and we never spoke to them. Neither of us knew how the other was doing.
At the first chemo session, I was sitting there getting the dreaded chemicals, and I spotted the girl's mother first, followed by her daughter. The mother's face lit up like a beacon when she saw me, with a mixture of what looked like relief, recognition and happiness - like meeting an old friend.
I guess that sometimes, without realising, a million things can be said between people without uttering a single word.
She was there again today - and we have become chemo buddies, comparing notes on hair, and various other side effects. She seems to have had a rockier ride than me in the last 3 weeks, but she's doing ok. In fact, she even has the same wig as me! How wierd is that!
After the chemo, I was rewarded with an aromatherapy back massage - what a delight! The gorgeous lavender oils took me somewhere off to the South of France for a while. I wasnt quite glugging red wine and eating garlic prawns, but the freezing snow, tufty head and pink cricket bat did drift away for a little while at least!....