Happy 3rd cancerversary to me.

Happy cancerversary to me!
It’s three years exactly since I had my official diagnosis. I had the tests the previous week, and had been told that they could see it was cancer. But 15 April was the official, biopsy-confirmed diagnosis of stage 3 breast cancer, with spread to the lymph nodes.
Maybe I shouldn’t mark this day: after all, it wasn’t a happy occasion. Perhaps my last chemo, in August, would be more appropriate. Or my surgery date, of 13 October, when the cancer was properly cut out. Or my last day of radiotherapy, in early February. That’s the thing with cancer: it gives you many important milestones. But, I’ll stick with this date I think. After all, it is a birthday of sorts. A day when I waved goodbye to the normal healthy young woman that I was, and started my new life as a cancer patient, then survivor.
So how do I feel this year? Last year, on my 2nd cancerversary, I was elated. I had recently stopped my life-destroying (how ironic, as they are actually intended to stretch out my lifespan just a little longer, but to the unacceptable cost of all joy or peace for me and my family) drugs, and was happy feeling a lot like the old Alex.
This year, I honestly don’t know how I feel. How am I meant to feel? Life as a cancer survivor is one without a map.
Sometimes I am hugely relieved just to be alive and every extra day is a blessing. Other times it feels like I cheated death, and it’s just waiting for me in the wings; until I am really comfortable. Then I forget all about cancer and feel like a normal healthy person. Occasionally I feel boring and tired. Sometimes I feel I have been given a second chance: an eye-opening brush with my own mortality that seems like more a blessing than a curse. Then I think of how much my kids have grown up in the last three years: will I still be around for the next three? I am reminded of how God has blessed me with such a wonderful life, and how I shouldn’t waste it. Then I worry that I won’t be around to see my children finish school, get a job, get married, have their own children. Sometimes I believe that I will live to 90, just to prove a point. Other times I am grateful that I can help people newly diagnosed. Then I will feel that I’m not doing enough for those in the cancer community. And I also think about how unfair life is: not for me, but for the people without a voice; like the innocents being bombed in Syria, and the people struggling to survive in Burundi. And I think that I should shut up about cancer, after all, I am well and what’s the point of moaning? Then I can’t be bothered to think, and just want to watch telly, draw a doodle or read a book. So yeah, that’s a typical day!
I haven’t celebrated this day as such, but my daughter and I did bake cupcakes, which are surprisingly good.  And what is the point of surviving cancer if you can’t enjoy a home-made cupcake now and then?
Advertisements

Paddington Bear has an adventure in London.

Paddington Bear at Monument Tube 12042018
Hello, I am Paddington Bear. Today, some humans called Mike and Alex bought me from a shop in London, and took me on an adventure. I have always lived up on a shelf in the shop, so had never seen London properly before. Just a lot of tourists’ heads.
Mike and P Bear on tube 12042018
We went on the tube, which is an underground train network! Even though we were underground, I didn’t see any earthworms or mud. I sat on Mike’s shoulder for a good view.
London Eye 11042018
We went on a boat ride on the Thames. It was so cool: we saw lots of things, like this big wheel. I think that people who have been very naughty are made to go on it, as punishment.
20180412_113315_Richtone(HDR)
My owners took me up a ridiculously tall building, called the Shard. I was too scared to get out of Alex’s backpack. Bears are Not made to be this high up! Afterwards, I needed a cuddle and some marmalade sandwiches to recover.
Paddington Bear on bench 12042018
I got tired from all the adventuring and needed a sit-down, and look what we found! A bench with my name on it. What are the chances?
Paddington Bear at Paddington Underground station
There is a tube station named after me! How cool is that? 
20180412_134554_Richtone(HDR)
Then we went to a very noisy and busy train station. I like London, but there are just too many people. I found this extremely old bear, who told me all about Peru, which is where us Paddingtons all came from many years ago. He is very popular: I saw lots of people getting their photo with him.

 

Paddington Bear shop London 12042018
We found an awesome shop, full of bears just like me! I made lots of friends. They are all hoping for families to take them home. Living in a shop can be quite boring. Except for the parties after closing-time, of course.
Paddington Bear on train to Swindon 12042018
Mike, Alex and I got on a train, heading for Swindon, which is where cool people live, so I hear. I read a book.
Me and PBear on train from London to Swindon 1204
Alex let me sit on her shoulder for a while. Trains are interesting. There was a man on his phone though, talking about business for the whole journey. I felt very sleepy and had a quick nap. When I woke up, we were in Swindon.
B cuddling PBear from behind
Mike and Alex took me to their home. I have a new owner called Bethany, who loves me very much. She makes me marmalade sandwiches every day. ☺

January again

January. Such a weird time of year. Many of us have eaten, drunk and spent too much over Christmas, and are now expected to come up with an unrealistically long list of things that we are going to achieve in the coming year. We are supposed to be healthy, have big goals and look forward with unbridled joy to the the amazing new year. Sod that. I have always thought that new year is such a disappointment.

Cancer hasn’t helped with that. For the last few Januaries, I have not wanted to look back over the past year, nor look ahead too far either. That’s the thing with cancer, it tries to steal your future, even if you have been given the ‘No evidence of disease’ good news.

I went to a NYE party at a friend’s house this year. It was just what I needed- a chance to be sociable, be silly and absolutely no pressure to look cool for social media (in fact, I’m pretty sure I was the opposite), to or get raving drunk to ‘prove’ how much fun I was having.

I realised that it’s been several years since I haven’t either dreaded or ignored the new year celebrations. For the last few years, that was thanks to cancer and its long list of treatments, side-effects (such as social isolation) and associated illnessses; and before that thanks to pregnancy or having a baby and not a lot of sleep.

So how do I feel about the start of another year?

Well, it’s hard to be too positive, as 2017 was supposed to be my going-back-to-normal year, when in fact it was a succession of illnesses and other unfortunate events. There were a few of highlights, such as having all of my family together; two cute arrivals; and Christmas, which I really enjoyed (and actually felt well on the day! 😁)

But, generally, I am feeling cautiously optimistic. I have a few Very Good Events to look forward to in 2018. Having a life-threatening disease is great at helping you to value every celebration; every birth and wedding and new start, because there were never any guarantees that you would be around to see them.

And when you have been told by the doctor that you are unlikely to be around for too many more… but I am able to live in the moment and not worry about the future, now that I can’t take having a long life for granted; in a way that nobody who has never been confronted with their imminent mortality just cannot understand. It’s a blessing in disguise, because it helps you to chuck out the junk of life, while holding onto the precious, much more easily.

I know that whatever happens this year, I will be glad that I am here to experience it, even the bad stuff.

If there was one thing that I could wish you, it would be that you could see how amazing this gift of life is: never perfect, often surprising, and far too short to waste worrying about all the junk, like how cool you look on social media. 😎

 

Healed, again

In July, after a few months of illness, I was diagnosed with bowel disease.

Today my doctor undiagnosed me.

When the test results came back and I was told that I had colitus, I refused to accept it. I knew that I was ill, but I knew that I would get better soon. There was a long conversation with a nurse who insisted that I had bowel disease, while I countered that actually, it was just an infection that would heal. She was pretty bemused.

She offered me medication. I said no thanks, I’m going to be better soon. She made a follow-up appt with the doctor, and gave me her direct phone number, ‘just in case’.

When I got home, I spent the next few weeks claiming healing for my body, in Jesus’ name. After all, he did heal me from breast cancer, so colitus would be easy, right?

Today when I saw the consultant amd he asked about my symptoms over the last few months, he told me:

“It looks like it was just an infection. You don’t have colitus.”

“That’s what I said.” Was my reply.

Thanks God. 😊

 

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

 

Inbetweeny

I haven’t written a blog post in ages, so I think it’s time for one.

Many of my blogs have been about trusting God in the really difficult times, or being thankful for the good things.

I don’t remember having written many inbetweeny posts. For those without access to a dictionary, inbetweeny is where things aren’t great and things aren’t horrendous. They are just inbetweeny. I guess that for most of us, with the notable exception of Calamity James, a large percentage of us spend most of our lives in this zone.

So, you may not know that I have been some some health problems for the last few months. I do not believe that they are in any way related to my cancer history, but it has still been unpleasant and draining.

Recently I had some investigations, which included biopsies. The nurse said that one of them was not routine. When you hear those words, some small alarm bells are set off.

I want to say that I am not anxious about this, at least 99% of the time. Having cancer has taught me to give over all this sort of stuff to God, and sharpish. I have learned that I can trust him, no matter how bleak the circumstances. So the last thing that I need to hear from anyone is ‘Be anxious for nothing.’ Thanks dude, but I learned that one the hard way and I don’t need your well-intentioned judging.

That said, show me someone who says that they never get worried about anything, and I’ll show you a liar.

And that’s what I mean by inbetweeny, because of course that’s normal. And it’s in the normal, the job stuff and health concerns and fun weekends and family times and business of life that we really need to learn to put God first. There aren’t many athiests on a lifeboat, and most of us are happy to thank God when life is awesome, but those times are just the bookends.

There are a whole lot of unreported stories, times that we may not photograph or share on Facebook, where we still, as Christians, need to learn to put God first. I’m good at trusting him with the big things, but I need to hand over all the small stuff to him too.

So that’s where I am at the moment: inbetweeny and learning to trust God with the everyday. And whenever I make the effort to focus on him, there he is with me, just like when I woke up after my operation nearly two years ago. Right in the room with us, where he always is even if we don’t notice.

 

 

World cancer Day

What does World cancer day mean to me?
Today is world cancer day, and I’ve been thinking about why the day
is important to me.
There are three things:
1) A chance to raise awareness.
A great thing about WCD is that is raises awareness of this disease.
Yes, people have heard of cancer, but do they know what to look
out for in their own bodies? Every cancer has different symptoms, but
if it encourages one person to stop ignoring that little lump in
their breast, or blood in their stools, or stomach pain that won’t go
away; if they get the kick up the bum to make an appointment with
their GP, which means that their cancer is caught early and can
be treated, then it’s worth it.
2) A chance to raise funds for vital cancer charities.
Cancer Research UK, Breast Cancer Care, and Macmillan are all
charities that I, along with many others, have benefitted from.
More research into prevention and treatments, more support
for those affected by cancer, and more political lobbying is needed.
3) For those who have lost loved ones to the disease,
a chance to remember them.
For those who currently have cancer; for those who will lose their lives
to it; or those who have lost health and time and joy to it, a chance
to reflect and be recognised. A chance to stand with others
and not feel alone.
A chance to unite.
20170204_191706