On Friday at 5pm, I am hitting the road!
I’ll be picking up my hire car in Manly, hugging the family good-bye, swearing whilst sitting in bad traffic through the city, then heading south on the new freeway down to Batemans Bay.
I’m so looking forward to spending some time with one of my best friends, Rach.
At my postnatal check up for Bubba, they told me my baby was fine and I was fine. At the same time, Rach had her postnatal check for son #3. They told her, her baby was fine but she had Grade 3 breast cancer.
Too shocking to believe, but very true. Before the news even had time to settle, she was thrust into operation after operation and chemo galore.
We moved to Sydney for 6 months and was grateful to spend time with her.
I made some trips with her to Canberra for treatment.
Turns out I’m a pretty crap support person. Like the time I was meant to be holding her hand whilst she was wheeled into radiation therapy, but instead just balled in the corridor, so she was the one doing the hand holding.
Or like the time when I got a call to tell me that The Swedish Husband had gone surfing on a closed beach in Sydney, had had an accident, and was currently in an ambulance on his way to emergency. Cried so much that chemo girl had to drive us both to oncology.
Or like the time we were staying a few nights in Canberra Hospital, sharing a room and I asked my bald best friend if she had any spare shampoo. I immediately said, ‘OH MY GOD! I cannot believe I asked you that!!!!’ We laughed so hard, we couldn’t breathe. Turns out, she did have shampoo. Course.
Although whilst in our Canberra, we did manage to make the most of it:
Like the time we raided Canberra Cancer Council’s free wig basket, put them on my 6-month-old and went sightseeing to see what reaction we got.
Or like the romantic road trip we took to cold climate wineries outside of Canberra. Between shots of chemo, we sipped Clonakilla whites and had an awesome time.
Rach is a Lecturer at the University of Wollongong however, she actually should be a Lecturer in Life. No matter what she’s been through the last few years, she always has a smile on her face. We always manage to laugh and laugh, and let the party continue.
I’m heading down to ‘experience the excitement of dance’ a night of dinner and dance raising money for the Cancer Council. She’s a ballerina from way back. Let’s be honest, way back. She said she’d be on stage dancing and I said, I’d pay to see that.
I’m bringing the bottle of Clonakilla white with me, the same one we bought together back in 2010. I’d told her then, that one day in a few years we would sit back, enjoy some fantastic views and crack it open and chat. Considering she’s nearly made it to 40, it’s the perfect time. And that’s something to dance about.