I have been feeling for days that I am preparing for a war that I do not want to fight. People around me are preparing too. I have decided that I am going to cut off my hair, I have gone to the nutritionist and I have read a lot. We have also changed our diet to make sure that I eat enough protein and a lot more vegetables than before. These are our little war tactics. The strategy: keep myself busy, active and as healthy as possible during treatment.
We’re getting emails from family and friends, some of them inspiring as they are from people who understand what I’m dealing with. My family and friends are moving quietly, like an army of ants, doing what they can to protect me, to take care of me.
Tomorrow the oncologist sees me. Actually, it is a she. Samirah tells me that she’s curious about what she will be like. I am not, I wish I didn’t have to meet this person ever or at least not under these circumstances. The doctor is supposed to tell me how my treatment is going to be and this week or next week we’ll start.
I will try to ask a lot of questions. I hope my questions are well received and that my doctor will be patient. I don’t expect her to feel sorry for me, but I do hope she understands that I’m going to war and I don’t want to go in with a blindfold. I prepare my battery of questions, hopefully my memory will not fail me, but just to be sure, I have them written down in a mobile application. Samirah has read somewhere that it is advisable to record the meeting with the doctor, asking them for permission, of course. It’s always a lot of information and the current state of mind is not the best for capturing everything. Maybe we’ll do that tomorrow. My aunt is also going, Samirah on one side and she on the other. I am in the best hands, I have many people thinking of me and accompanying me. Everything has to go well.