Out of control

I was numb when she told me. "it's more or less the same as in September."

I pressed her for a number, and it took a while till she said "Thirty something." it's the Cancer index, a measure of the number of cancerous cell in the body, and an indication of how advanced the cancer is.

Though she said thirty something, on a print out of her latest medical record I saw for 8 September, the index stood at 45. I tried to imagine what that meant, but my lack of knowledge of medicine meant I didn't really know what it implied. I only know it's bad, terribly, terribly bad. A look at her historic cancer index level, the highest it has been is somewhere in the mid twenties. Back in 2007, when mum was first diagnosed with cancer it was hovering around 15, and that I thought at the time was bad. The index always came down, and at one point was "normal" as low as that of a smoker. But now, it's at an unprecedented level. Ad it's scary...


I was surprised, but was I sad? Was I mad? I went quiet, I know I went quiet. But that is all. Can I cry now? Maybe if I'm pushed, I will burst put crying. But what will that bring me, what will that bring my mum?

Maybe soon I will break down and cry, maybe I'll quietly cry in bed later tonight...

But for now, I'm just floating and my feelings are just the way they are, a strange, and fragile calm bouyed by the devastating revelation.