Normal Service Will Be Resumed....Soon

I'm over half way through the radiotherapy now. 8 down, 7 to go.

When I was in on Friday, a nice fella called Ben asked if he could sit next to me. He was 61 and having treatment for prostate cancer. I think he fancied a chat cause there were plenty of empty seats. I didn't mind. He was a really nice man. He used to play cricket, so we talked tactics for a while, and he admired my cricket cap which I don't think I've taken off since I got it - my initials embroidered on in gold.

'This whole cancer thing makes you think a bit doesn't it,' he said.

'Well, it does I suppose,' I replied, wondering where he was going with this conversation.

'I've been really horrible to my wife over the years,' he said sadly.

'Oh?' I said, thinking that he didn't look like he'd be horrible to anyone.

'All the huffs and sulks. And I've been a right miserable bugger. I don't know how she's put up with me.'

'Well she has, and you can change things from now,' I said. 'Get some holidays booked, some weekends away, organise some nice treats for you both.'

He looked very upset suddenly, and I could tell that he had many regrets whizzing around in his head. It had taken cancer to wake him up. He doesn't want things to go back to normal after the treatment. He knows he has to change things.

As for me, well, I'm slowly returning back to 'normal.'

My body, despite being radioactive, is emerging out of the chemo fairly well. I'm not sniffing and dripping any more. I can frown now with the help of eyebrows. I can make a slight breeze with eyelashes when I blink, and my legs are like Kielder Forest again. Best of all, I managed to get 47 runs on Thursday before collapsing in a sweaty heap - every muscle and joint in my body groaning with pain.

I want to be back to normal - and, I didn't realise until that cricketing performance, just how much my lovely husband wants me back to normal too.

'Straight off the radiotherapy bed and she scores 47 runs!' I heard him boast to his cricketing friend the next day. He was bursting with pride. If his mother was still alive, she would have been reminded of the day that he had asked me out.

'He came bounding in,' she would describe, imitating him brilliantly...  I always loved hearing her tell that story...(it was her favourite, and she told it many times.)

Now I know what she meant. I've seen it with my own eyes now. I've witnessed that bounding, bouncing and beaming lad - just as she described. The weight has begun to lift off his shoulders as he sees the old me coming back again - 16 years older than when he first clapped eyes on me - but its me - almost back to normal - and I'm glad that's the way he wants me.