They say you can’t choose your family, which is why you pick your friends.

I don’t pick my friends. They always seem to pick me. Believe it or not, I actually am quite a shy person. Walking into a room full of strangers makes me feel sick. Talking on the phone stresses me out, even if I know who I am talking too. There is something about not being able to read the body language of another person while I’m talking to them that makes me wonder and second guess almost every part of the conversation.

Once I get to know you, once we have established some sort of relationship, then I relax. But the initial “making friends” part doesn’t come easily to me. And usually we become friends because of the effort you make. I know this. It’s not my greatest quality but it’s gotten me through the past 25 years quite nicely. (Once we’re friends however, I throw my heart and soul into the relationship.)

Today I’m surrounded by people who 21 weeks ago, I had no idea existed. I didn’t know there was a way you could put a canula into a vein and feel no pain. I didn’t know that spending hours, in a hospital bed every week would allow me to meet and interact with some of the funniest, most lovely ladies I’ve ever laid eyes on. Never before, have I laid in hospital and joked about nuns and vibrators, the “best” way to peel a banana, and how long it takes to dry washing when you never take it out of the machine. I didn’t know that there existed a place, in a hospital , that I would eat chocolate, and laugh till I worried my waters had broken or I’d wet myself. Conversations about psychotic cats, and not being able to fix stupid. Nurses, who came to me on shift, and cried about things in their lives.

This place, this ward. It feels like home.

If I had to pick my family, Many of my friends would make the cut. Other relationships work so well because there IS no family connection. As I sit here, surrounded by tubes, beeping machine, people rushing around and other patients, The nurses who have kept my baby alive, and healthy for the past 21 weeks are stopping to chat, to laugh with me, to keep me positive and excited for the future. Just as they have done for the past 21 weeks, they are keeping me, and my family positive.

You can’t pick your family, but if I could, every single one of these ladies would be at my table on Christmas day. I can’t thank them enough for what they have done for me, physically, and emotionally.

It’s my last treatment. I won’t miss the treatment. But wow, I am going to miss these people.