Not yet

I’m lying there between two soft and just-bathed bodies and we’re reading bedtime stories.

I’m lying there reading and laughing and the lights go out.

A power cut, ironically confirmed by next door’s alarm. It rings somehow reassuringly in the near distance.

Don’t worry, I say, the lights will be back on in a minute.

We’re lying there in the dark, looking up at the shadows on the ceiling. And counting to 60.

When we pass 99 I say: lie here with me and sleep. Close your eyes in the dark.

There’s nothing to see. The lights will come back on soon.

I’m lying there, two warm bodies either side. We stare up and we’re quiet.

I’m thinking about my luck.

“What can I say? You’re an odd-ball.”

Nothing has changed. No growth, no enhancement, no increase in blood uptake.

My doctor yesterday. He’s not seen it before in my tumour type. But I’m stable. No change is no change.

I’m lying there and I’m thinking. There’s six months until my next scan.

I’m lying there and I’m thinking. They won’t measure the tumour’s blood for another year.

It feels like a lifetime.

I’m lying there between my two warm sleeping babies and I’m thinking. There’ll be no treatment before Christmas. There’ll be no treatment before Spring. There may be no treatment soon, at all.

I’m lying there between two softly breathing bodies. I’m thinking about when the lights will come back on.

And I’m smiling and hoping.

Not yet. Not yet.

14 Comments

  1. amazing news and a lovely piece, congrats to you all and I agree, our lights have just come on and our sitting by the small fire outside looking up at the stars has ended with thoughts of we should do this more often xxx

  2. Congratulations Gideon, I know what you mean about the six months, it just seems to give you life in spurts.

    I am hoping for the same next week, can start planning things then!

  3. Your words created a beautiful warm picture of a very, very special moment.
    What else can I say but thank you for sharing. Your news is wonderful … Many, many more special moments ahead for you all ! 🙂

  4. Jim finished 2nd round of chemo 12 months ago and regrown GBM 4 has gone silent……….. and we are finally coming to terms with the fact we are in the same boat, more or less, than everyone else again. Hard to explain to anyone not on this ‘journey’. (As Jim’s surgeon referred to diagnosis after initial surgery in 2011! wanted to punch him on the nose… and I really am not a violent person.)

    Enjoy every day as best you can and push the cloud away whenever it casts a shadow. Take care and keep writing please. Cathy

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