The Night Everything Felt Too Much

Last night was… dramatic, to say the least. I ended up in A&E after being in unbearable pain and itching like mad. I’d had an allergic reaction to the Metoclopramide they’d given me. I’m allergic to Cyclizing, and they told me I’d be fine with this one.

Nope. Absolutely not.

I was itching so badly I genuinely wanted to peel my skin off. I kept knocking the port on my chest because every part of me wanted to scratch right underneath it. At one point, I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke up, my chest was covered in a rash where I’d clawed at myself. I barely recognised my own skin.

When I finally got home, I ran a hot bath because my bones felt frozen. I’d only just sunk into the water when Julie, my Macmillan nurse, rang to see if I was home. I told her I was—tired, emotional, raw—and that I’d just spent the night in hospital because of the reaction.

She didn’t hesitate.
“I’m on my way.”

Then Gavin called while I was still soaking. He said he’d be coming over too. I told him Julie was already on her way, and he just said, “That’s fine. I’ll talk to her when I get there.”

After the call, I got out, dried off, and wrapped a towel around my hair. And that’s when I saw it—the hair coming out in little strands. Only small bits… but it was enough to break my heart.

In the bathroom mirror, I saw someone who looked bigger, her face wider, and now—slowly—going bald. It was like losing pieces of myself all at once.

The night before, I’d had a huge argument with my mum. I’d told her I wanted to stop treatment. I was exhausted—physically, mentally, emotionally. I said I just wanted to be made comfortable and let go. She didn’t sugarcoat her response. She basically told me to fuck off and keep going.

She’s survived breast cancer twice.
I had cervical cancer that’s now spread to my bowels.
And in that moment, I just wanted it to take me quickly.
Part of me felt like I deserved it after everything I’d put Rick through.

Julie arrived first.
“Hello, Petal,” she said, smiling that warm, familiar smile. She never looked at me like I was just a patient. She greeted me like a friend—like someone she cared about. And God, I loved that about her.

She asked how I was.

“I’d be better if you could take this out,” I said, pulling down my top to show her my port.

Julie laughed when I showed her my port.