Raising Maisie May

On the morning of Maisie's last treatment I expected to feel absolutely joyous. I expected to feel relieved, happy and utterly proud. But the truth is, while I did feel all these things, they were tainted with fear. Over the last few weeks I had begun to realise that this journey wouldn't end with Maisie's last treatment, that this whole thing wouldn't be over, despite what everyone felt the need to tell me. Yes, this day would mark the end of treatment, but with that it also created a starting line for another new way of life. A life after cancer. A life that had been written for us. A life that I didn't know how to live. With any trauma or tragedy there is always an aftermath, a physical and psychological clean up, a time for rebuilding and reforming. I knew that following treatment we could help Maisie rebuild her strength, we could nurture her, care for her and help her grow. We could help make up for all the things that she has so far missed out on in her

The next four weeks were extremely tough. The way Maisie had coped with her first cycle of chemotherapy had tricked me into believing that the next stage would go the same way, that my little fighter would power through once again. Oh how naïve I was. Every Tuesday when Maisie received her chemo she became tired, pale, refused to eat and anything she did manage she would vomit back up, she was irritable, not sleeping well and generally discontent. Over the weekends we could see her picking up again but Tuesdays always came around too quickly. Chemo was taking its toll on her and it was clear to see she had had enough. exhausted Wee Roxy staying close by her little sister Our days became unpredictable and I was struggling to watch Maisie become weaker and suffer from the toxic chemicals that were consuming her little body. It is these hard days when I want to talk to people who are going through the same, who have that level of understanding for how truly difficult it is to w

Driving to Belfast the next morning to start a new round of chemotherapy was a heart breaking reminder that this nightmare was not over. That even after all the challenges and battles Maisie has fought and won so far, the cancer war was still going on. Today was not only a trip for chemotherapy either, today was the day we were expecting to hear the pathology report and the anxiety could be felt amongst us all. Apart from Maisie who was still smiling. Up until now we had no indicator as to what stage Maisie's cancer was at and we only had a vague idea of the type of cancer cells that were present thanks to the biopsy. So until the tumour was removed and went to the pathologists we had no solid idea of what type of treatment plan Maisie was going to have to endure following surgery. The very best outcome we could hear today was that the tumour would be completely dead of all cancer cells but that was a tad optimistic and a bit too much to ask for. So with a realistic hope w