It only takes a pin to burst my bubble

Vulnerable was first linked to my name two years after my brain tumour surgeries.

I played with the word in my mouth, ran my tongue around it, said it slowly. Vul...ner...able...

Me?

Everyone said I was positive, a fighter, strong... 

But am I?

I should be...

But I had lost my old life. Gone. Except for Mr H, my family and a few friends who stuck around like glue despite my bad days when everything seemed blacker than coal.

Now I am dealing with my breast cancer, the surgery which has changed how I look and the chemotherapy which has taken my hair. I am not fighting it. How can you fight cancer? It's there. Only treatment and a positive attitude can keep it at bay, maybe cure it even. I haven't got the energy to fight. Keeping a smile on my face as I go from appointment to appointment, spending time at the allotment and trips out with friends drain me.

I stay safe and cosy in my 'doing OK' bubble when a smiling voice answers a question I have asked twice before, a friend listens without offering advice, or a phone call is returned when agreed.

But when someone doesn't reply to an email which took a bucket of emotional energy to write or when chemo is delayed because my neutrophils are too low or I have to ask a nurse or doctor to wash their hands instead of it being automatic, my voice wobbles and my lips tremble. 

These are the pins which burst my bubble...