Cancer is a word, not a sentence.

A good day and everything seems and feels incredibly “normal”. It’s a weird concept being diagnosed with cancer. With the first mention of the word it initially feels almost like a life sentence but in reality so many people these days, one in three of us, will have cancer during our lives. Cancer is a word, not a sentence.

Yes it’s scary because we all know and many of us have experienced what cancer can do to people over time and the treatment can be rather challenging.

 I am thankful that I did not get cancer 10 or 20 years ago when the prognosis would not have been so good. I am thankful that I have raised our children and watched them become young women. I am thankful that I did eventually decide to go back to the GP back in June despite having been told previously that there was nothing wrong with me, well only carpal tunnel syndrome and reference to depression or menopause.

How people have taken the news of my cancer has been interesting. Shock and disbelief for most. How people have offered support or not, has been varied and not always what we would expect or from whom we would expect. My own life feels momentarily on hold while of course everyone else around me carries on as normal. For a few weeks I can’t carry on as normal and I wonder if the same “normal” comes back or if it is a new “normal”.

For me 2012 was to be all about change. The previous few years had challenged me mentally and physically and 2011 was especially hard for me (probably unknowingly because of the onset of cancer as well). In January I set about opening new doors and I made plans, Salsa dancing, Jog Scotland, Edinburgh half marathon, decision to sell the house, booked a 100k trek in the Sahara, psychology evening class, applied to University. All with a view to expand my horizons meet new people and move in a new direction. Not everything worked out as I hoped but then it rarely does for anyone. Very little interest in the house as yet, but clearly now is not the time to be packing boxes, unsuccessful in University applications, but clearly not the time to be committing to four years of study! Sahara trek cancelled due lack of support, which also actually turned out to be a good thing or I would have had to cancel it myself – I should have been going in October.

Optimistic that the house will sell when the time is right, I will rebook the trek for 2013 and I think it is time I stepped out of Social care work looking after everyone else and look for a new direction for myself. I have my eye on a little cottage that needs a total refurb!

 The weekend didn’t shape up quite as planned spending far too long stuck in traffic jams to / from Edinburgh & Glasgow along with £75 worth or replacement windscreen. The Speed Of Light event was quite an experience but I was actually far too tired to make the most of the two and a half hour hike up a blustery, damp, Arthurs seat at 10pm Saturday evening! Like cancer cells invading tissue, I watched as the light circle spread out over Salisbury Craggs  in a web of blue and reds veins. Gusts of wind shook my body and the lights of the Edinburgh night blurred into a yellow fog.

 Just two sleeps until my admission to ARI at 2pm Wednesday. It seemed like an age to go when at first diagnosis I had a month to prepare. Now here it is. Jobs crossed off my list and bag packed. Maltesers, books, new pyjamas, lacy vests and pretty knickers to feel feminine and satin shirts for easy on and off and gentle on the skin. Ear plugs and eye mask to help with a good night’s sleep. I wanted photographs of myself, for myself, that tell their own story. My breasts before surgery, after biopsies with all the bruising and next week after surgery.

 

 A mastectomy removes your breast not your personality or sense of humour. It probably also removes a lot of fear and anxiety.