The strain of putting a brave face on things finally broke me yesterday, in quite spectacular fashion.
Mr P. is very upset with me. He's a proud man and my very public and volatile meltdown was almost entirely directed at him. I was out of order.
But the fact is I am completely and utterly terrified. It only really dawned on me last night when someone asked: "So, what do they do if they still find cancerous cells after the mastectomy?" Er. I don't know. I'm not sure there is anything else.
Having emotive conversations like that when you've had a few drinks is never a good idea. Cancer has become my sword of Damocles, constantly hanging over me but not always fully acknowledged.
And that was the nub of it yesterday. I just don't feel I've been able to fully express how scared I now am, for fear of upsetting the people closest to me, particularly when they don't want to accept that - even if they get rid of all the cells - cancer, and its effects, will now always be part of my life.
I'm not a negative person but I am realistic. While I will always try to make the best of things and continue to live my life as fully as I can, I can't hold up a pretence of blithe optimism just to keep other people happy. That's not fair on me.
The fact is that certain changes to my body caused by the chemotherapy cannot be reversed. And worse, for the time being at least, I've still got cancer.
So let's be honest: that sucks.