It’s been so long since I have written a blog post that I hardly know where to start. I have thought about writing and not writing so many times since I found out that the dreaded beast had returned and today was the day I decided to do it.
It is hard to get all that has happened over the past few weeks in to one post so I have skipped over chemotherapy for now and gone for a quick run down of my brief cancer free time, the day I found out about the new diagnosis and how I try and cope day to day.
So here goes…
As the clock struck midnight on New Year’s eve I was relieved to say goodbye to 2018. A year that had completely turned my world upside down.
I wanted 2019 to be my year and I wanted to move on. Ash and I had decided we would start saving for a house, we were thinking about holidays and I was building my hours back up at work to be full time within the next month or two.
I decided to put myself on the waiting list for counselling and I went to see my (new and amazing I must add!) GP for help as I had been suffering with depression. It was a difficult step to take but I knew it was time as I was spending so many of my days in tears not knowing how to get my life back on track. I’m so glad I went and got myself sorted as I dread to think how I would be feeling now without the anti-depressants. They did and continue to do an amazing job of taking that lingering feeling of darkness away.
Fast forward a few weeks and I was stood in the queue at The Christie outpatients desk. I was called forward and the receptionist took my details and told me that I would go for my clinic appointment with my Oncologist and then I would have my bloods taken. Alarm bells started ringing in my head immediately and I knew something was wrong. Usually at clinic appointments like this you get your bloods done and then go and see your Oncologist. It had been that way every time I had gone to The Christie. I knew something wasn’t right.
Soon enough I was sat in the clinic room and I was being told that the cancer had returned and that it had spread. I remember feeling like I had lifted up out of my body and I wanted to ask if I was dreaming. It was the strangest feeling. I kept crying and saying ‘I knew it, I just knew it’. I felt like it broke my heart and I was filled with fear that I had done it, that I had done something wrong and that’s why it had come back.
I remember asking a few questions and then Ash began to ask some too. He asked my oncologist how this new diagnosis would affect the time I had left and they both asked me if I would mind her answering the question. I said I wanted to know. I pulled myself together and told her to tell me. I’d done this all before, it was familiar territory and I wanted to know what I was up against.
As I sit here today, I think about what I was told in that appointment. I was told that I would be starting chemotherapy in a matter of weeks, that there was very, very little chance of me still being here in five years’ time and that the chemotherapy would kill my one remaining ovary which meant that children would no longer be an option for Ash and I. All of the plans I had started to make were taken away from me and I was so angry.
It absolutely terrifies me when I think about it and I live 90% of the time in complete denial that I even have cancer let alone Stage 4 cancer. I can’t think about it because I’m scared that if I do I will completely lose it.
This is why I have decided to try and live every day in a happy bubble and in hope and belief that there is something bigger out there that will exceed any expectations that the doctors have for me.
Fortunately for me that something bigger is God. I believe God is real and although that doesn’t always stop me from being scared or having brief moments when I think about the songs I would want played at my funeral, I have the comfort of praying away my fears and knowing that there are people all around the world praying for me and wishing me well.
There are days when it is easier than others (Ash will definitely vouch for me there!) but I don’t see the point in moping around crying and feeling sorry for myself all the time. Don’t get me wrong, there are definitely days when I have a good cry or ten and it is a struggle to get through the day but I know that with every day I succeed in doing so I am proving to myself that I can.
I sing in the shower, I dance around the house when no one is here, I joke, I laugh and I do all of those things because I want to try and prove to myself that I’m not dying. That I am strong enough to stick two fingers up to cancer – even if it is for fleeting moment.
Cancer I have beaten you before and I’m not afraid to do it again – this is just the start so watch your back.
‘A merry heart does good like a medicine..’ Proverbs 17:22