No matter what the challenge is, it is so important not to overthink it. Living from scan to scan is stressful, not just for me, but for my family and friends as well. I wish with all my heart that I could remove the stress and heartache from the people that I love. That’s the toughest part of living with cancer.

I am now facing into a new avenue of therapy. I will begin radiotherapy next week. I will have eight treatments on alternate days and will finish on 20 June.

The day I went for my scan, I was wound up like a spring. It’s funny really because nothing happens on that day except the mechanics of getting the scan done which entails drinking contrast [liquid] over 90 minutes and then being put into the machine. There’s a lot of instructions of “breathe in and hold” followed by “you may breathe normally”.

Special manuscript

While I was waiting I was going through my notebook, about to put in the latest entry of my scan date. I noticed messages in my daughter Julie’s hand writing on the bottom right hand corner of each page. I welled up. I was afraid I’d cry in front of a full waiting room.

Then I was laughing, grimacing and squinting, frantically turning pages, almost devouring my notebook. My diary of my chemotherapy journey had become a very special manuscript. No longer was it a lousy read of symptoms, appointments, what doctors said and next steps.

It was an indication of how invested Julie was in my treatment. It was also full of admiration, hope and love for the future. It gave me a tremendous lift.

I was wondering when she had done it. We had been away for a few days and Diarmuid was staying alone in the house. He loves to be rid of his parents and at 36, who could blame him?

His siblings Julie, Philip and Colm look out for him; taking him to his drama and CADA Performing Arts. Equally, his brother-in-law, Dave and two sisters-in-law, Aileen and Elaine are fully on the same page for supporting him.

It was an indication of how invested Julie was in my treatment. It was also full of admiration, hope and love for the future

I find that quite amazing because to be fair, they haven’t grown up with somebody who has an intellectual disability. When I mention this, Julie always says “Mum, do you think we’d have married people who didn’t understand?”

Understanding is one thing. Really caring is special. The big news when we returned home was how many times Diarmuid had been to Colm and Elaine’s for his tea. I suspect that Julie saw my notebook on the kitchen table when she was visiting Diarmuid and did her magic.

I’ve had a chemotherapy break for 12 weeks. It has been an amazing time of ordinary everyday life. The team have got two herds of cows well on their way on their lactating journey for 2025. Many of them are already back in calf. We’ve reared their calves. It’s been busy and lovely.

Life is magic

We have worked hard. There has been plenty of babysitting of my three grandchildren. Life is magic and beautiful. Tim and I have done nice things. I’ve had plenty of meetups with friends. I hoped that it could all continue uninterrupted.

It was time to meet Dr Deirdre for a consultation. “There were two spots,” she said gently “one on each lung.” She would be passing me onto the radiotherapy team led by Dr Paul Kelly for treatment of these spots/tumours.

The rest is a blur. I cried while Tim listened. After a day or two, I got myself in hand again. I will get this done during June and enjoy the rest of the summer.