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.
