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Faith, fiction and cancer stuff.


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Two years later…

I realised this morning that it’s two years since my double mastectomy.

Thinking about how much has happened in those crazy couple of years, it actually seems much longer. I would love to say that as soon as active treatment was finished, that my family and I went straight back to pre-cancer ‘normal’ life… but that would be a lie. The truth is that nothing is ever quite the same again.

Your illness bubble suddenly bursts (and lots of people  stop praying for you: it’s almost a tangible difference), everyone says how well you look, and you are expected to pick up exactly from where you left off, with nothing more than some scars and shorter hair to mark the ‘journey’.

The reality is so much more complicated and difficult to explain to anyone who hasn’t gone through it.

Perhaps some stats will shed a little light:

“At least 500,000 people in the UK are facing poor health or disability after treatment for cancer –

At least 350,000 people living with and beyond cancer are experiencing chronic fatigue.

Around 240,000 are living with mental health problems, which can include moderate to severe anxiety or depression, and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).”

This is a small part of a long list, provided by Macmillan cancer support.

Many relationships break down soon after a cancer diagnosis as well, especially when the patient is a younger woman. And with the hormone treatments that I was on for a while, they are so soul-destroying that the fact that any marriage survives them is a miracle.

Cancer’s slimy fingers reach into every aspect of your life: your health, your mental health, your relationships, your parenting, your career, your finances, your vision of the future, your life expectancy.

I want to say that I am actually very optimistic about the future, and I am not afraid of cancer or even of possibly dying young  (although would rather not); but it’s no use pretending that I am the person that I was before. And Mike and the kids have been through the mill too: their lives have been massively affected and changed too.

The best advice that I could give to anyone who is close to someone with a life-changing illness (or their partner or child) is to be kind, listen and don’t fob them off with “Oh, but you look so well.”

 Anyway, I was meant to be talking about my double mastectomy… it’s only boobs, if you have to have one, you’ll get over it, and I would much rather be alive in an imperfect body than be a gorgeous dead person. 😊 

I’m still fabulous, I’m still here, and I’m going to live the best life that I can. 

#breastcancerreality

 

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National poetry day: freedom

What does freedom mean to me?

Freedom to write about anything I like

Without worrying what they think.

Freedom to dance like I’ve had too much to drink.

Freedom to question, to figure out what I believe in.

Freedom to talk about my faith, even if people don’t like it.

Freedom from fear of death.

Freedom to pray.

Freedom to draw silly doodles and to bake flat cakes.Autumn drawing.jpg

Freedom to jump in Autumn leaves and to read a book under a tree.

Freedom to enjoy the life that I’ve been given, for as long or short as it will be.

Freedom to be nobody else, just me.

The best me that I can be.

 


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Wait?! Ugh.

Fab blog.

Real as the Streets

I’ve been in an emotional slump. Not full blown depression, but still. When life strikes a blow at my happiness, I want to react. I want to act. Fight or flight. Something!

So I prayed.

And prayed.

And praaaaaaayed.

And the Lord sends the same reply, “Wait.” Be patient.

Ugh.

I feel life is passing me by and all I want to do is catch up.

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Farewell Nabeel

An amazing man died this weekend. He had stage 4 (incurable) stomach cancer, and the doctors had put him on palliative care. It wasn’t a big surprise that he died, but it is incredibly sad.

Nabeel Qureshi was born into a devout Muslim family in the US. A Christian friend who he met at university strongly encouraged him to disprove Christianity. Nabeel was desperate to do so: he was full of faith in Allah. Of course he could not prove that Jesus is not the son of God, no matter how hard he tried. He was born again, after finally realising the truth.

He has degrees in medicine, Christian apologetics and religion. He was studying for a doctorate at Oxford University when diagnosed with cancer.

It is painfully unfair that someone so young (34), intelligent and full of faith in God, died. He could have achieved so much more if had lived longer. His daughter would have had a father; his wife a husband.

So many people around the world were praying for a miracle, that he would be healed. It is easy for us as Christians to get angry at God for allowing Nabeel to die. How dare he?

The problem is that we just can’t understand it. Why would God allow this young man to die? Unfortunately, we will only get the answer to this and many other questions, when we too die. Then, as believers, we will be able to ask God face-to-face. I have no doubt that our all-knowing creator had perfectly good reasons for this, and other suffering, to happen… it’s very hard for us to get our heads round it though, right? It just seems so unfair.

We don’t see the full picture, we can’t understand, and sometimes that sucks. We like to believe that we have all the control in our lives: choosing our friends, our jobs, who we marry, how many kids we have and when, where we live, etc. And of course we do have a lot of decisons to make, and responsibilities.

But we never get to choose when or where we are born, who our parents are, and when we die. We like to think of ourselves as masters of our destiny, but ultimately, when it comes to life and death, this is an illusion.

The fact is that every day that we live is a gift from our maker, God. We may rage at his unfairness is taking away young lives, but in reality, we were never promised long, healthy, wealthy lives, without a moment’s pain. Quite the opposite in many cases actually, especially for Christians.

My heart breaks for Nabeel’s family and friends, but thank God for his life. Thank God for our lives, no matter how short or painful they may be. Thank God that he sent his son to die as a sacrifice for us, so that when we die we can live forever with him. Thank God for his love, for hope and for every day that he gives us on Earth.

It’s not all about how long you live, or how many countries you visit, or how many children you have.

Much more important is knowing in your heart, on the last day that you live, where you are going. That you are going to meet your Heavenly Father: the one who loved you even before you were born, the one who send his son to die in your place.

I know that Nabeel had this faith, and that he is happy now in Heaven, probably asking Jesus some of those difficult questions. 

Seeking Allah Finding Jesus


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The clouds

Do you ever lie on your back
And look at the clouds?
I did that the other day and thought
about loss.
An anniversary that nobody wants to
celebrate.
But it’s still as real as any birth or wedding day.
A grainy scan photo tucked away
A reminder of the unhappy day.
A knowledge that something was
wrong.
A kind doctor who reminded me of
someone.
The loss of a lot of blood,
and then
A tiny rainbow in a sunny summer sky.
Finally, saying goodbye.
Wondering who you would be
And whether you would look like
me.
I lie on my back sometimes,
And look at the clouds.