If one more person tells me ‘I’ll smash it’, I will smash their f***ing face in. Cancer isn’t a game. You don’t get to take your turn on a playing field, score a rounder or a goal and go home full of admiration for your skill.
Cancer is a disease. Not a battle. Why does it evoke such military rhetoric? Many don’t see their cancer away – why should they be viewed as ‘loosing their battle’? It doesn’t sit comfortably with me. A negative perception on a disease you cannot always prepare for and definitely cannot control.
The very real – but extremely daunting fact now is that I will never ever be truly free from cancer again. I’m lucky – I got 46 years before it came into my life and slipped alongside me. Although my prognosis (right now) is a good one, I will never be able to live out of its shadows anymore. The constant anxiety will come from thinking the cancer will return. I know you should never live in fear (here come all the old cliches) and I am going to have to really construct some solid coping techniques – both mentally and physically – for when I am ready to face this part of the journey. I’m wondering now how I will do that. Do you just get back on with your life like it didn’t happen? Does it just magically happen – you transition from cancer there one day to no cancer there the next? It baffles me. A few people have told me the real impact of the cancer on you (and your family) only really hits you when it is over. When the treatment has ended and the 6 monthly follow up appointments are in the diary.
Luckily, a chirpy knock loud knock on my front door shuck me out of this thinking. My husband opens it to our neighbour of 18 years. She is stood there smiling at him, asking to see me. I walk to the hall to see her and I’m greeted by a confident smile and welcoming words. She has hand made me a patchwork quilt. She passes her creation to me and I am taken aback by her thoughtfulness. As I scan my eyes over each hand sewed patch, each personal design, It comes to life in front of me. The images represent me she says – rabbits, cats, beaches, Pembrokeshire. It is so beautiful and she has made it especially for me. I am not crafty at all – and admire those that are – but it is obvious how much time she has spent on this and I am utterly astonished. Her kindness is so obvious. She is delighted I am delighted and all I want to do is hug her for her gift. For those few moments our neighbourly connection shifts to something deeper and affirming. Too often we can underestimate the power of a kind gesture and an act of kindness. I promise myself I will never do that again.
Today I have continued to feel well. Say about 75% of me is sat holding this pen. My hair is thinning and the rumbles of a headache are felt in the distance. But one week on and I’m delighted with my body’s ability to absorb the poison and distribute it accordingly.
I’ve now got two weeks to live until cycle #2. I’m working this afternoon – I have two clients to see and I want to attempt some ironing. The gift from my neighbour has put me in a good frame of being as I look prepare myself for counselling.
I’m a believer in the law of attraction. – like attracting like.
So, I’ll end this entry with this I read recently..
OH!! I have just thought of something else not to say to me EVER AGAIN….. ‘You’ve got this’.
I’ve got a number of pathology reports that tell me that already. I don’t need f***ing reminding.