Read Online The Choice by Bernadette Bohan - Free Book Online

system something horrible. You must give your body a chance to adjust and it can’t do it overnight. You’ve been taking sixteen tablets a day. Go back to sixteen, then in three days take it down to fifteen. Stay on fifteen for three days, then reduce to fourteen, and so on.’ We worked out a schedule, and it took me many weeks to come off them completely. I thanked her so many times, but I suspect Marian will never know how much of a life-saver she was to me.
The joint pain finally receded. The hard muscle weight faded away. I looked like my old self again, and I was thrilled.
‘Let’s have a treat today,’ said Gerard one Saturday shortly after I had finished coming off the drugs. ‘What would you really like to do?’
‘What I really fancy is some new clothes,’ I said, feeling as excited as a little girl.
‘Right then, come on you lot, let’s go,’ said Gerard. We all piled into the car and went into Dublin. What a wonderful day we had, the four of us, wandering around the city, choosing new clothes for me. I revelled in my new body, loving the chance to feel like a real woman again after months of being a freak. Sarah was great, making me try on everything, running around the shops pulling clothes off racks she thought I’d like. It reminded me of the feeling you get when you have just had a baby, or just stopped breastfeeding, and you are starting afresh with a new wardrobe. I still have a khaki suit and blouse from Principles I bought that day – it was so smart, and I felt so good in it.
But the best part was giving away all the clothes I had worn during that terrible time. I felt like I was throwing the year away. I was better, and nothing would stop me now.

Chapter Nine

 
New Life

G radually I tried to put the cancer behind me, to banish it to the dark places of my mind. It was a blip, a freak event, I told myself. The treatment had been shattering, but it had worked. I had come through it, I was cured. Wasn’t I here to prove it? I was feeling terrific, going to the gym, eating well (or so I thought), and – most importantly – throwing myself back into the job of being a mother, relishing its humdrum tedium as much as the sudden flashes of pure joy. Sarah was six and Richard was eight, and Ger was working hard. My life settled down and took on a certain familiar routine: housework, preparing meals, walking the children to school and collecting them, tidying up around them, helping them with their work, drying their tears, kissing their bumps and bruises better, sharing their small triumphs and disasters, ferrying them to parties and after-school activities. Richard went to tennis lessons and played football seemingly non-stop; Sarah was passionate about art, drama and tap dancing.
All this and more made up the delightful monotony of domestic life. In any spare moments I’d be at my sewing machine, running up clothes for them and for friends. It was something I enjoyed, and I felt it was so important for me to be in the home, always there for the kids if they needed me. At the weekends we would visit one of my sisters, or my mother, or one of Ger’s family. We were a family who talked and laughed all the time, very sociable, very close. With so many of us there was always a reason to celebrate something – a birthday, a driving test passed, an anniversary. These were very special times: I loved every moment, knowing it was all the more precious to me because I had been so close to losing it all. Not a day went by without my sinking to my knees and thanking God for saving me for my children. They were so young, so vulnerable, so innocent in their trust that I would always be there. I used to slip into their bedrooms while they slept and stand for long moments watching over them, marvelling at their smooth unblemished skin and their sweet childish faces.
Don’t imagine by this that I became some kind of perfect, selfless