But thanks to my fabulous friends and family I actually had fun, something I didn't think was possible in hospital. I had pink balloons tied to my bed, dozens of cards strung along the wall, bouquets of flowers, three birthday cakes and more presents than an eight-year-old at Christmas. I've now had six cycles of chemo and my body (not to mention my mind) is reaching its tolerance limit. My bone marrow has almost given up trying to generate the white blood cells that are essential for fighting infection. So now I am giving myself daily injections of GCSF, a substance that boosts white cell production. This time last year I was so squeamish I would feel faint just talking about needles, now I'm shooting up like a junkie! With approximately six weeks to go until chemo finishes, I've started having what I call my 'manic episodes'. These usually happen in the couple of days following a release from hospital. Although my body is exhausted, my mind is racing. I will obsessively tidy the house (a difficult task on crutches), reorganise my iPod playlists, fire off emails, but most of all I will think, think, think about all the things I am going to do next year. At night I am unable to rest, even though I have learnt to sleep through the nocturnal clatter of a hospital ward. I will lie and stare at the ceiling for an hour before getting up and taking my diary to the spare room to make lists headed 'countries to visit' and 'things to do'. It's as if the creative part of my brain has shut down for the best part of a year and is only now awakening again. I still get my melancholy and tearful moments, but they are slowly being replaced by hope and even excitement about what life might hold for me over the next year.
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