Well almost. I am just over two weeks on from my operation. I have written nothing since the night of my op. I have not wanted to. I have not wanted to sit and think and write about having cancer and having an operation to see if it is still present. I have been in awe at how quickly my mind turned back to my life without the presence of any chemo cycles and an operation. All those bloody weeks fretting and feeling the sheer drop of anxiety in my stomach and toes. Gone. So I wanted to enjoy the space that freed up in my mind. I threw myself into Christmas and what it needed from me. Presents for the kids, friends and family. I want to say a big thank to many who have held my hand so hours are spent trying to find the right gift and the right card. I am tired so this is done in small pockets. But I do it and that is what I remind myself of. I am no longer 100 mile an hour and my lungs are not anywhere need where they once were. The nerve damage and pains in each joint continues to flare.
I did not suffer badly with any soreness and pains after the operation. I struggled to reach my arm out to the side for a fair few weeks but the exercises I was given helped me with my movement and flexibility. Pain relief was taken as and when but it was OK. I continued to turn into a violent mess of purples, yellows, greens and blues. My breast and arm pit were swollen – still are – and I am not able to wear my normal bras as yet. I have been living in a sports bra with no wires so nothing to rub on the wounds. They are both numb. I have no feeling around either of the sites. My blue tit is still, well…blue. It has faded a lot actually but there is still the blue remainder of what has just happened.
And here is where it gets weird. I have somehow, subconsciously detached myself from the last 6 months. I have cut it out of my mind and I am attempting to rebuild my life. I am still waiting for results, but I am aware now that days have been going past and I am not heavily invested in breast cancer and it’s treatment. I am welcoming this space and the relief that ensues. I am thinking about work, getting fit, getting rid of the excess water that clings to my cells – a constant reminder that chemo was once there. In me. Burning the tumour and killing my healthy cells. My hair has slight tufts – no where near what I wanted by now which hurts me. I get the reminder I have cancer when I see myself in a mirror. I have to work hard in some of these moments to smile back at myself and realign where I am now. I have had the majority of the treatment and I am waiting for the post-treatment care plan which still includes radiotherapy. Who knows when, as we are now in the midst of COVID and it has tightened it’s grip on the nation. A lock down is being talked of again for Christmas. Wales had a mini 2 week fire-break where we had to stay in and not socialise. This went by quickly, and is something I have been used to anyway what with chemo etc, so it didn’t really bother me. I did miss seeing people especially after my operation where I started to feel better within myself. I am still weak, tired and feel pain and stiffness throughout my body – but I know this is chemo clinging on and this would be the case for the next 6 months. I am fresher in my mind though. No anxiety, stress or worry. I am sleeping a little better too. Taste buds are returning too which is nice. I am hungry now and enjoy food which is different from before. I have no big appetite and find myself eating two meals a day but I know what I am eating now which is really quite nice. Everything tasted the same at one point and everything felt and tasted hot.
It is almost 6 weeks on from my last chemo now and I have been very disappointed with the recovery. I expected to bounce back after a few weeks and start to feel well. Alas no. It stayed on much longer and really did effect my mood and positivity. It clung to me and refused to depart for weeks. I am now noticing subtle changes to my body and it’s responses and sensations but nothing massive which I was hoping for. I wanted to be running by now but can’t. I am breathless a lot. I can put washing in the machine and take washing out of the tumble dryer at the same time now but still the heaviness of this task weighs on my lungs so I grab a kitchen chair and wait for it to pass. I am being told to be patient and wait until after Christmas before I even think about getting on my trainers but to be honest I want to tell them all to f*** off. The frustration is in me and this is one way of letting it out. Being angry at others for trying to help me and empathise with me. I am struggling to get the balance right between my cleaner, freer mind that has lost the anxiety to a body that drags behind under the weight of the treatment. Patience has never been a strength of mine, and my God how this has been tested this year.
I am also under fire from the anger I hold towards other people in my life who have treated me unkindly and unfairly. I have taken this to therapy and get days of relief from it where I can rationalise the behaviour of others and move away from it, safe in the knowledge that this is their stuff and not mine. Then, when I feel a wretch of distress at my own incompetence’s it finds it’s way out and scolds my mind again. Back to what I have learnt in therapy – be compassionate to myself and stand back from the anger and separate the facts from the feelings. I can do this. Sometimes. But other times? I want to drive to see everyone who has ever hurt me and my family and smash their faces in. I want them to know exactly what I think of them and I have the words to hand believe me. But I know this is wasted energy and emotions I could well do without. The joys of cancer. It takes you to places in yourself that you never knew existed and pushes you to the depths of despair taking every thought you have had ever had with it. It makes you look at your life and those who are in it and those who are no longer there and questions every dialogue and disappointment.
I am no longer in the thick of it – I know that. I am having to re-learn how to be, how to feel and how not to be and how not to feel. The rule book is blank and I have the pen. This excites me and fills me with dread all at the same time. I have a chance now to scrap some of the old and construct something new. I feel positive and negative in equal measure when I start to look forward.
I am grateful to the core for the outcomes I have had so far. Yet scared to the bone that I have got this wrong, or they have got this wrong and the next appointment and the next phone call will consist of bad news and difficult sentences. I may have had many days free from the cancer chatter – but it lingers in the background and watches me smile. It watches me live and it stares. I can sometimes ignore it well. Other times I can’t.
I look to control what I can today. So, tonight, I will raise a glass and wish it a very happy Christmas.