To continue my list of 100 reasons why I'm thankful I was diagnosed with breast cancer I'd like to mention some of the little things that I appreciate so much more now. And although they're little things, they are important to me.
16. I appreciate my eyelashes and eyebrows
I think I've mentioned before (!) that when I was diagnosed with cancer I was incredibly anxious about losing my hair. But it turns out what transforms you into Generic Cancer Patient is the loss of eyebrows and eyelashes. I learned how to fake them with makeup (see next point), but that only works when your makeup is on. When you first wake up in the morning, or when you're at home or in hospital and too ill or tired to create a face by trowelling on makeup, then every time you look in the mirror you see Cancer. When you're feeling at your best it's depressing. When you're feeling at your worst it leaves you screaming and sobbing at your horrible, ugly face in the mirror. One of the worst memories of cancer that will never leave me is the image of my screaming, sobbing cancer face in the mirror one morning towards the end of last year.
My eyelashes and eyebrows have now grown back. I love them so much. Before cancer, when I'd look at myself without makeup on I thought I looked AWFUL. Not any more. Even if I look a bit tired or washed out, I know now I still look normal. I have all the things on my face that should be on my face. I don't look like a cancer patient.
17. I appreciate makeup
To follow on from the last point.... I was never very good with makeup and never wore much. I didn't know how to do it properly so I didn't bother with much more than powder, eyeliner and mascara. I remember going to the Benefit counter in town when my eyebrows first started to disappear and got the makeup artist to do my eyebrows for me (before I spent a fortune on Browzings). I looked like a twat. The plain face of someone who looked like they'd be most at home in a quiet bookshop suddenly had dark, striking, glamorous eyebrows that belonged on... well, someone striking and glamorous! They were not me! But sooner after that I attended a Look Good Feel Better makeup workshop at the hospital and learned how to fake eyebrows in a much more low key and natural way. And at that session, and from watching my friend Andrea's incredible makeup tutorials I learned lots of other tips too. I'm sure I'll still be lazy with makeup - I kind of think less is generally better cos then you can just get on with having fun without worrying whether your makeup's still ok... but sometimes, when you want to do it nicely, it's really nice to know how. And... if I am ever a cancer patient again, at least I'll know from the start how to hide it a bit better.
18. I appreciate taste
I took taste for granted. Big, bad Tax chemo (the one that did a bloody good job of murdering so much of my cancer) takes your sense of taste away for a while (replacing it with what is officially known as Tax Mouth, and in my case, a nice bout of oral thrush each time).
Before cancer and chemo I thought the tea at work tasted bad. Now I know just HOW BAD tea can taste, and what a disappointment it is when you can't taste your tea at all. (Not that I'm now going to drink the tea at work, I just accept that it could be worse. And I appreciate the cuppas I have at home a million times more now.) Taste is wonderful. I'll try and remember this and not just inhale my food absentmindedly while concentrating entirely on something else.
19. I appreciate my walk in to work
I'm not a morning person, hence, my morning walks in to work have always generally consisted of me leaving the house late and in a bit of a flap,marching as quickly as my legs will move without actually running. Google maps says my walk to work is 31 minutes, I normally do it in 25, my record is 18.5. This rushed walk (slightly different routes depending on where I've been working) has been a part of my daily weekday routine for over 10 years. Cancer (chemo and surgery) took it away from me for a while and I missed it more than I would ever have guessed. Since I've been back at work, the sun has shone every time I've walked in. I don't think that's because it's Spring. I think that's because the Universe realises how much I appreciate the walk to work (the normality, the exercise, feeling fresh air on my face, being a part of the constantly moving and changing outside world) and has organised for the sun to shine down on me each time I go out. Having said that...
20. I appreciate the rain
I remember when my mom was in hospital the week she died. It soon became clear that she would never again leave the hospital bed. I remember looking out of the hospital window at the rain, and thinking how sad it was that she would never feel the rain again. From that moment on I had a new appreciation for rain. This has only intensified since being diagnosed with cancer myself. The rain is amazing and the rain reminds you that you're alive. The way it feels, the way it smells, the way it sounds. I love the rain, and honestly think people should spend more time with their wellies and raincoats on, splashing about in the puddles. Let go a little, have a bit of fun.
I'll leave it there for now ...
Showing posts with label 100 reasons why I'm thankful. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 100 reasons why I'm thankful. Show all posts
Wednesday, 6 May 2015
Sunday, 22 March 2015
100 reasons why I'm thankful I was diagnosed with cancer - Part 5
I'm adding some more to my list today, prompted by this post, Be Strong, Yo! which my friend Diane has published today. And I quote:
Be thankful: Focus on the good. Cultivate a life filled with gratitude and be thankful for the experiences that life has given you each day. Train yourself to find blessing in everything because a grateful heart is a magnet for a positive life.
So here's a couple more to add to the list. This first one I wrote weeks and weeks ago! But it is still relevant...
14. Self-esteem boost!
(There's a soundtrack to this one. It's here, sorry about the short ad at the start, especially if you get the same ad that I did, which is Kanye West, sorry.)
I'll try to not let this escalate uncontrollably into narcissism but I've had a bit of a self-esteem boost recently and that feels nice! Especially as over the last six months there have been points where my self-esteem nosedived to almost non-existent. I've found it hard to word what I want to say here so I'll just put it bluntly. There are people in life who make you feel good about yourself, and there are people in life who make you feel like shit about yourself. I'm sure that's true for everyone. The question is, who do you let affect and influence you the most? I've been told plenty of times, and I know it myself, I'm a people pleaser. I don't think that's a negative thing, until it gets to the point where you allow people to treat you badly, or you waste time and energy trying to please people who frankly aren't worth your time and energy because they just aren't nice. And that's where self-esteem comes in.
In the run up to surgery, and in the few weeks since surgery, I've been inundated with cards, messages, emails, and I've been really moved by some of the things people have said to me. (I have a long list of thank you cards to write and send!) It's meant a lot, it really has. And it made me realise, in keeping with YOLO and life is short/time is precious, when there are that many people in my life who are so nice and so thoughtful, and who care about me, why would I ever want to waste time and energy on people who aren't nice or don't care? I'll try not to any more.
Oh and in explanation of the song... My honorary sister Emily sent me a card when I got my post-surgery pathology results and one of the things she said was that she thinks of me every time she hears Katy Perry, Roar. In all honesty, I'm not a Katy Perry fan, but I do love that song and I'm definitely making Roar my personal anthem.
Update [even this update is old now, oops]: I drafted this a couple of weeks ago, then last week, Emily was at mine, cooking me dinner (good sister!) and I put this song on. She told me the line that really makes her think of me is "I went from zero, to my own hero." That really made me smile because it was what I was going to put as the heading for this but then I didn't because it felt too bigheaded!
15. I waved goodbye to dignity
Yyyyup! I'm adding it as something to be thankful for because dignity is over-rated, anyway. A breast cancer diagnosis makes saying goodbye to dignity inevitable. It starts with repeatedly getting the top half of your kit off to be examined and groped by one doctor or nurse after another. Ask any woman with breast cancer; it becomes that regular an occurrence that when you walk in to a room to meet someone for the first time, you automatically whip your top and bra off without being asked and without even thinking about it, whether you need to or not. But talking to strangers topless is just the beginning. Once chemo gets going there's no amount of putting your clothes back on that will restore your dignity. Chemo causes bleeding, leaking, sweating, fungal infections, crusty bits, sores. There are times you might be puking so violently it sprays back out the toilet nearly hitting the friend who is holding your hair back. There are times you're too tired to wash or get dressed for several days in a row. And then there's surgery, when you have to lie back and accept, amongst other things, one of the following scenarios... You'll either have a catheter in meaning someone will be rooting around down there to get the catheter in you, or you won't, meaning it's possible you'll wet yourself while you're unconscious in surgery. In my case I had a catheter in. I went down to surgery with knickers and gown on, and woke up with a catheter in and my knickers handed back to me in a little plastic bag.
But you know what... once you accept all this and say goodbye to dignity, medical appointments and procedures actually become a bit less stressful. Doctors and nurses really have seen it all before, and whatever you're going to present to them - they've almost certainly seen worse.
I've not seen one in a while, but remember those adverts about bowel cancer? The ones that tell you to put aside embarrassment and go and see your doctor if something isn't right at the arse end of business? Those adverts really do have a very important message and it doesn't just apply to your bum. You might be a lovely person, but you're living in a human body. Hiding behind all the effort you put in to look or feel nice (your clothes, hairstyle, makeup, and your washing and shaving and whatever else you do) there's a gross and un-lovely human body. We all have one and they're all gross, they're all disgusting. So don't EVER let embarrassment prevent or delay you from seeing a doctor if something isn't right. I know I won't.
In fact, I'm going to end here, and leave you with this:
Be thankful: Focus on the good. Cultivate a life filled with gratitude and be thankful for the experiences that life has given you each day. Train yourself to find blessing in everything because a grateful heart is a magnet for a positive life.
So here's a couple more to add to the list. This first one I wrote weeks and weeks ago! But it is still relevant...
14. Self-esteem boost!
(There's a soundtrack to this one. It's here, sorry about the short ad at the start, especially if you get the same ad that I did, which is Kanye West, sorry.)
I'll try to not let this escalate uncontrollably into narcissism but I've had a bit of a self-esteem boost recently and that feels nice! Especially as over the last six months there have been points where my self-esteem nosedived to almost non-existent. I've found it hard to word what I want to say here so I'll just put it bluntly. There are people in life who make you feel good about yourself, and there are people in life who make you feel like shit about yourself. I'm sure that's true for everyone. The question is, who do you let affect and influence you the most? I've been told plenty of times, and I know it myself, I'm a people pleaser. I don't think that's a negative thing, until it gets to the point where you allow people to treat you badly, or you waste time and energy trying to please people who frankly aren't worth your time and energy because they just aren't nice. And that's where self-esteem comes in.
In the run up to surgery, and in the few weeks since surgery, I've been inundated with cards, messages, emails, and I've been really moved by some of the things people have said to me. (I have a long list of thank you cards to write and send!) It's meant a lot, it really has. And it made me realise, in keeping with YOLO and life is short/time is precious, when there are that many people in my life who are so nice and so thoughtful, and who care about me, why would I ever want to waste time and energy on people who aren't nice or don't care? I'll try not to any more.
Oh and in explanation of the song... My honorary sister Emily sent me a card when I got my post-surgery pathology results and one of the things she said was that she thinks of me every time she hears Katy Perry, Roar. In all honesty, I'm not a Katy Perry fan, but I do love that song and I'm definitely making Roar my personal anthem.
Update [even this update is old now, oops]: I drafted this a couple of weeks ago, then last week, Emily was at mine, cooking me dinner (good sister!) and I put this song on. She told me the line that really makes her think of me is "I went from zero, to my own hero." That really made me smile because it was what I was going to put as the heading for this but then I didn't because it felt too bigheaded!
15. I waved goodbye to dignity
Yyyyup! I'm adding it as something to be thankful for because dignity is over-rated, anyway. A breast cancer diagnosis makes saying goodbye to dignity inevitable. It starts with repeatedly getting the top half of your kit off to be examined and groped by one doctor or nurse after another. Ask any woman with breast cancer; it becomes that regular an occurrence that when you walk in to a room to meet someone for the first time, you automatically whip your top and bra off without being asked and without even thinking about it, whether you need to or not. But talking to strangers topless is just the beginning. Once chemo gets going there's no amount of putting your clothes back on that will restore your dignity. Chemo causes bleeding, leaking, sweating, fungal infections, crusty bits, sores. There are times you might be puking so violently it sprays back out the toilet nearly hitting the friend who is holding your hair back. There are times you're too tired to wash or get dressed for several days in a row. And then there's surgery, when you have to lie back and accept, amongst other things, one of the following scenarios... You'll either have a catheter in meaning someone will be rooting around down there to get the catheter in you, or you won't, meaning it's possible you'll wet yourself while you're unconscious in surgery. In my case I had a catheter in. I went down to surgery with knickers and gown on, and woke up with a catheter in and my knickers handed back to me in a little plastic bag.
But you know what... once you accept all this and say goodbye to dignity, medical appointments and procedures actually become a bit less stressful. Doctors and nurses really have seen it all before, and whatever you're going to present to them - they've almost certainly seen worse.
I've not seen one in a while, but remember those adverts about bowel cancer? The ones that tell you to put aside embarrassment and go and see your doctor if something isn't right at the arse end of business? Those adverts really do have a very important message and it doesn't just apply to your bum. You might be a lovely person, but you're living in a human body. Hiding behind all the effort you put in to look or feel nice (your clothes, hairstyle, makeup, and your washing and shaving and whatever else you do) there's a gross and un-lovely human body. We all have one and they're all gross, they're all disgusting. So don't EVER let embarrassment prevent or delay you from seeing a doctor if something isn't right. I know I won't.
In fact, I'm going to end here, and leave you with this:
Saturday, 31 January 2015
The science edition of 100 reasons why I'm thankful I was diagnosed with cancer (Part 4)
It's been a while since I've written one of these! Truth is, I don't think there was a single moment in December when I was thankful I'd been diagnosed with cancer (I think if I'd tried to write this in December the post would have turned in to "100 reasons why I hate everything and really don't give a shit about whether I live or die"). January has been far less miserable, but very busy, what with being all chopped up and stuff.
But I have some things to add to my list now!
As a reminder (to myself more than anyone else) here's what I'd got so far:
1. My friends have been shining so brightly that they dazzle me every day.
2. I've made new friends who I would never have met if it weren't for cancer.
3. Experiencing the feeling you get as a result of random acts of kindness from strangers.
4. I'm learning to trust my own gut feeling.
5. I'm becoming less afraid of "What if?"
6. I've discovered that one person (me) can make a difference.
7. I bounce back a bit quicker.
8. I'm writing.
9. I get to reduce my risk of cancer.
(All my previous reasons to be thankful posts can be found here if you're interested.)
So... some more to add! This lot are all a bit sciencey. I have some non-sciencey ones to add too but I'll write them in a separate post.
10. I know my enemy now
This is linked to number 9 on the list. Before I was diagnosed, because of my family history of cancer, I went through genetic testing to check my BRCA1 and BRCA2 genes for mutations. Nada. I was diagnosed with cancer, and the genetics experts rolled their sleeves up and studied another load of my genes. Worth the time and effort! I have a mutation in my PALB2 gene. I'm the first PALB2 mutant to be found in Leicestershire! And I assume Rutland too! (By the way, it's pronounced Pal Bee 2, in case not knowing that kind of thing bothers you like it does me. The others are Bracka 1 and Bracka 2.) This is good news because knowledge is power. I've been officially informed my PALB2 mutation puts me at high risk of breast cancer (no shit, sherlocks!) but I will almost eliminate the risk of another breast cancer with the preventive surgery I'm having. I've been told it might increase my risk of ovarian cancer (more on that later) but I can have my ovaries out before they try and kill me, eliminating my risk of ovarian cancer too. I've been told it might slightly increase my risk of pancreatic cancer, but that's not certain, and if it does it isn't likely to be by enough for me to need to be worried about. So there are no new immediate implications, but in the future, as more is known about PALB2, myself and my doctors can respond accordingly if ever needed. This gives peace of mind. No longer am I blindfolded and in the dark, fighting an unknown enemy. The blindfold is off, the lights are on, got my armour, got my army.
11. Vindication. Mom, Nanny, May - it wasn't our fault.
When you get cancer, you wonder why. When you get cancer, other people wonder why. What caused it? What did you do wrong? It's too late for me to apologise to my mom, but if she were still alive, she'd be getting a massive apology from me right now. After she was diagnosed with breast cancer, I judged her way too much. I would lecture her about what she was eating, tell her off if she had a drink, nag her to exercise more. (Yep - me. The one who responded to a cancer diagnosis by sitting on my arse eating and boozing for months on end. Hypocrite.) After I was diagnosed with cancer myself, even though it was clear there must be some sort of increase in risk because of a genetic factor, I still spent a lot of time looking back over my twenties and kicking myself. I drank too much. I ate too much chocolate. I didn't exercise enough. I microwaved things in plastic tubs. I lit too many scented candles. What about that time Nico got fleas and, freaked out by that advert that implies if your dog brings one flea in to the house, within 3 minutes there'll be millions of them breeding all over your bed and on your sofa, I treated the entire house to several cans of something that was clearly cancer in an aerosol can.
Now I know that my cancer, my mom's cancer, my nan's cancer, my great grandmother's cancer were all caused by the pathogenic mutation in our PALB2 gene. It wasn't our fault. It's nice to know that. It's good to finally have an answer.
12. I'm your new PALB2 advocate!
I might be the first PALB2 mutant discovered in Leicester but I won't be the last. And it's not just Leicester. At the moment, there isn't any routine testing for PALB2 mutations on the NHS like there is for BRCA1 and BRCA2 in high risk families. This means that not many PALB2 mutants will have been identified in the UK yet. But my fellow mutants are out there! Somewhere!
I'm nosey, I'm stubborn, and I'm a bit obsessive. I researched and read a lot about hereditary breast and ovarian cancer (HBOC) on the internet and in books, I did a course on cancer and genetics, I repeatedly grilled my genetics consultant. Ultimately I believe this saved my life. The understanding I had developed about HBOC meant that when I got a negative BRCA test result last May, it did not put my mind at ease. I still believed I was at high risk and two months later, when I noticed that subtle wonk in my nipple, I insisted on urgent referral for an ultrasound scan. Thank fuck I did.
Yesterday I went to see my genetics consultant. I enjoyed a smug "I told you so!" and he said it was all quite remarkable. Most people go for genetics counselling, get a negative test result, feel happier, and basically go away. He said he hadn't known what to do with me because I was the opposite - as things proceeded, I became unhappier and more concerned. He was then stunned when I was diagnosed with cancer so soon after that test result. That's (unsurprisingly) never happened before. Turns out this stresshead patient's gut feeling was right. I've gone from being the patient he didn't know what to do with, to the patient who he'd like to speak at some of his events later this year. Apparently I am a modern patient, who communicates and engages in a modern way! He'd like me to share my real life story, the patient's perspective on HBOC/cancer. I'm in! I want as many people as possible to know my story but especially those who have a significant family history of breast and ovarian cancer but no BRCA fault in the family. I want people to know that you can learn a lot yourself, the information is out there if you know where to look (and can get a bit of help at times to translate it). That information can help you to better understand what the experts are telling you and play a more proactive role in your own healthcare. I want people to know that it is important to be aware of the details of your family history of cancer. What happened in the generations before you is relevant to you.
And, in addition to this, over the coming years I will follow research and knowledge about PALB2, translate it in to plain English, and post it on the internet for others. You never know, it might be just what someone else like me is looking for and needs.
13. I get to contribute a little bit to science
Or, more accurately, my DNA and my tumour get to contribute a little bit to science. I understand there's a very clever man in Cambridge itching to get his hands on some of my actual cancer to have it studied. Exciting stuff! He wants to know things like what impact my funky PALB2 had on my BRCA1. I hope someone at Glenfield has kept a bit of my cancer somewhere and is willing to share it.
Also, my family history will now be included in data about PALB2 and I am so glad. At the moment the line is: a PALB2 mutation increases your risk of breast cancer but we aren't sure whether to suggest preventive surgery for that, and we think it might increase your risk of ovarian cancer but we aren't really sure yet if that's worth being worried about. Well, scientists, add my family to the list of PALB2 families where there's ovarian cancer, and where there's early onset breast cancer. I don't have a PhD in cancer genetics, but I am telling you with confidence, the mutation in my PALB2 increased my risk of breast cancer at an early age, and it increases my risk of ovarian cancer. The sooner the scientists have more data like the data from my family, the sooner they will be able to make more accurate estimations of risk, leading to appropriate recommendations for risk reduction in relevant families.
If I had not been diagnosed with cancer, my PALB2 gene would not have been examined, and none of the things in this post would have happened/will happen. I am especially thankful for number 13. This might be the best thing of all to come from my own cancer diagnosis. Even if my cancer comes back and kills me, what the scientists learn from it might contribute to saving the lives of other people in the future. Wow. Just wow. Science = wow.
But I have some things to add to my list now!
As a reminder (to myself more than anyone else) here's what I'd got so far:
1. My friends have been shining so brightly that they dazzle me every day.
2. I've made new friends who I would never have met if it weren't for cancer.
3. Experiencing the feeling you get as a result of random acts of kindness from strangers.
4. I'm learning to trust my own gut feeling.
5. I'm becoming less afraid of "What if?"
6. I've discovered that one person (me) can make a difference.
7. I bounce back a bit quicker.
8. I'm writing.
9. I get to reduce my risk of cancer.
(All my previous reasons to be thankful posts can be found here if you're interested.)
So... some more to add! This lot are all a bit sciencey. I have some non-sciencey ones to add too but I'll write them in a separate post.
10. I know my enemy now
This is linked to number 9 on the list. Before I was diagnosed, because of my family history of cancer, I went through genetic testing to check my BRCA1 and BRCA2 genes for mutations. Nada. I was diagnosed with cancer, and the genetics experts rolled their sleeves up and studied another load of my genes. Worth the time and effort! I have a mutation in my PALB2 gene. I'm the first PALB2 mutant to be found in Leicestershire! And I assume Rutland too! (By the way, it's pronounced Pal Bee 2, in case not knowing that kind of thing bothers you like it does me. The others are Bracka 1 and Bracka 2.) This is good news because knowledge is power. I've been officially informed my PALB2 mutation puts me at high risk of breast cancer (no shit, sherlocks!) but I will almost eliminate the risk of another breast cancer with the preventive surgery I'm having. I've been told it might increase my risk of ovarian cancer (more on that later) but I can have my ovaries out before they try and kill me, eliminating my risk of ovarian cancer too. I've been told it might slightly increase my risk of pancreatic cancer, but that's not certain, and if it does it isn't likely to be by enough for me to need to be worried about. So there are no new immediate implications, but in the future, as more is known about PALB2, myself and my doctors can respond accordingly if ever needed. This gives peace of mind. No longer am I blindfolded and in the dark, fighting an unknown enemy. The blindfold is off, the lights are on, got my armour, got my army.
11. Vindication. Mom, Nanny, May - it wasn't our fault.
When you get cancer, you wonder why. When you get cancer, other people wonder why. What caused it? What did you do wrong? It's too late for me to apologise to my mom, but if she were still alive, she'd be getting a massive apology from me right now. After she was diagnosed with breast cancer, I judged her way too much. I would lecture her about what she was eating, tell her off if she had a drink, nag her to exercise more. (Yep - me. The one who responded to a cancer diagnosis by sitting on my arse eating and boozing for months on end. Hypocrite.) After I was diagnosed with cancer myself, even though it was clear there must be some sort of increase in risk because of a genetic factor, I still spent a lot of time looking back over my twenties and kicking myself. I drank too much. I ate too much chocolate. I didn't exercise enough. I microwaved things in plastic tubs. I lit too many scented candles. What about that time Nico got fleas and, freaked out by that advert that implies if your dog brings one flea in to the house, within 3 minutes there'll be millions of them breeding all over your bed and on your sofa, I treated the entire house to several cans of something that was clearly cancer in an aerosol can.
Now I know that my cancer, my mom's cancer, my nan's cancer, my great grandmother's cancer were all caused by the pathogenic mutation in our PALB2 gene. It wasn't our fault. It's nice to know that. It's good to finally have an answer.
12. I'm your new PALB2 advocate!
I might be the first PALB2 mutant discovered in Leicester but I won't be the last. And it's not just Leicester. At the moment, there isn't any routine testing for PALB2 mutations on the NHS like there is for BRCA1 and BRCA2 in high risk families. This means that not many PALB2 mutants will have been identified in the UK yet. But my fellow mutants are out there! Somewhere!
I'm nosey, I'm stubborn, and I'm a bit obsessive. I researched and read a lot about hereditary breast and ovarian cancer (HBOC) on the internet and in books, I did a course on cancer and genetics, I repeatedly grilled my genetics consultant. Ultimately I believe this saved my life. The understanding I had developed about HBOC meant that when I got a negative BRCA test result last May, it did not put my mind at ease. I still believed I was at high risk and two months later, when I noticed that subtle wonk in my nipple, I insisted on urgent referral for an ultrasound scan. Thank fuck I did.
Yesterday I went to see my genetics consultant. I enjoyed a smug "I told you so!" and he said it was all quite remarkable. Most people go for genetics counselling, get a negative test result, feel happier, and basically go away. He said he hadn't known what to do with me because I was the opposite - as things proceeded, I became unhappier and more concerned. He was then stunned when I was diagnosed with cancer so soon after that test result. That's (unsurprisingly) never happened before. Turns out this stresshead patient's gut feeling was right. I've gone from being the patient he didn't know what to do with, to the patient who he'd like to speak at some of his events later this year. Apparently I am a modern patient, who communicates and engages in a modern way! He'd like me to share my real life story, the patient's perspective on HBOC/cancer. I'm in! I want as many people as possible to know my story but especially those who have a significant family history of breast and ovarian cancer but no BRCA fault in the family. I want people to know that you can learn a lot yourself, the information is out there if you know where to look (and can get a bit of help at times to translate it). That information can help you to better understand what the experts are telling you and play a more proactive role in your own healthcare. I want people to know that it is important to be aware of the details of your family history of cancer. What happened in the generations before you is relevant to you.
And, in addition to this, over the coming years I will follow research and knowledge about PALB2, translate it in to plain English, and post it on the internet for others. You never know, it might be just what someone else like me is looking for and needs.
13. I get to contribute a little bit to science
Or, more accurately, my DNA and my tumour get to contribute a little bit to science. I understand there's a very clever man in Cambridge itching to get his hands on some of my actual cancer to have it studied. Exciting stuff! He wants to know things like what impact my funky PALB2 had on my BRCA1. I hope someone at Glenfield has kept a bit of my cancer somewhere and is willing to share it.
Also, my family history will now be included in data about PALB2 and I am so glad. At the moment the line is: a PALB2 mutation increases your risk of breast cancer but we aren't sure whether to suggest preventive surgery for that, and we think it might increase your risk of ovarian cancer but we aren't really sure yet if that's worth being worried about. Well, scientists, add my family to the list of PALB2 families where there's ovarian cancer, and where there's early onset breast cancer. I don't have a PhD in cancer genetics, but I am telling you with confidence, the mutation in my PALB2 increased my risk of breast cancer at an early age, and it increases my risk of ovarian cancer. The sooner the scientists have more data like the data from my family, the sooner they will be able to make more accurate estimations of risk, leading to appropriate recommendations for risk reduction in relevant families.
If I had not been diagnosed with cancer, my PALB2 gene would not have been examined, and none of the things in this post would have happened/will happen. I am especially thankful for number 13. This might be the best thing of all to come from my own cancer diagnosis. Even if my cancer comes back and kills me, what the scientists learn from it might contribute to saving the lives of other people in the future. Wow. Just wow. Science = wow.
Wednesday, 26 November 2014
100 reasons why I'm thankful I was diagnosed with cancer - Part 3
Hello! Following on from previous posts (Part 1 and Part 2) here are some more reasons why I'm thankful I was diagnosed with cancer.
6. I've discovered that one person (me) can make a difference
And on a bigger scale than I thought possible. Here I'm talking about the times where I have challenged The Sun newspaper on their use of Page 3 models in a breast cancer awareness campaign. I wouldn't have done this if I hadn't been diagnosed with cancer. It started with a blog post written as an open letter to The Sun. I know I keep showing off about this but I've had almost 10,000 hits on that, plus there were articles about it on Buzzfeed and The Debrief. The result was that the No More Page 3 campaign got some more publicity and loads more signatures on their petition (There were over 1,000 new signatures on the petition on the day when No More Page 3 circulated a link to my post!) Since then, I've written more, and had a response (albeit a ridiculous one) from The Sun's Head of PR. The No More Page 3 campaign is incredibly powerful - just this last week three major retailers (Tesco, Waitrose and Marks and Spencers) have decided to change their displays of The Sun to keep them out of the sight of children. I feel incredibly proud that I was able to contribute a bit to this campaign, because I think it is so, so important. And all I did was write a few blog posts. That's all I did. So it makes me wonder, what could I do in the future, when I'm not also dealing with the bullshit that is chemotherapy? I want to do more, I want to make a difference, and now I believe I could. So I'm going to.
7. I bounce back a bit quicker
I'm very sensitive. I know this because everyone tells me I'm too sensitive. I also know this because I'm so familiar with feeling hurt and feeling stupid. And it doesn't take much. If I think that you've thought for just a second that I'm being annoying or stupid then I'm going to feel upset about it. ("You" being almost anyone, but the more I care about you the more upset I get.) I'm not sure at the moment where I stand on this, whether I think I need to toughen up or whether I think sorrynotsorry, this is who I am (probably somewhere in between the two). BUT, either way, since being diagnosed with cancer I think I bounce back from the hurt a bit quicker. This is partly because of how valuable time is to me now and I don't want to spend it being sad, and partly because people are being so nice to me just now (which, thinking about it, is because I've got cancer haha!) and that cheers me up. Anyway... I think I'm moving in a positive direction.
8. I'm writing
A couple of weeks after being diagnosed with cancer I started writing about it here. I loved writing when I was younger and thought I was ok at it. I'm not sure what happened exactly but it's been a long, long time since I've done any real writing and I'd come round to thinking I was rubbish at it (for example, a few years ago in some feedback for an appraisal at work, someone said my writing skills "are good, although not outstanding". I was gutted.) I think this is now the 49th blog post I've written since being diagnosed with cancer so I've written a lot. And I love it. As I've said before, it's incredibly cathartic, taking all that stuff out my head and dumping it here instead. But also.... people have been really nice about my writing. I mean, really, really nice. I'm going to get a big head! This includes my friends who are obviously obliged to be nice to me regardless, but it also includes people who don't know me at all (and it also includes the person who had said my writing was good but not outstanding - the compliments I had from that person had me bouncing off the walls I was so happy!) So I think I would like to write more. Not just on this blog. But, in my future, I would like to write more, and I think maybe I could, and I think maybe I will. I didn't think that was a possibility for me before all this. So, thank you cancer.
9. I get to reduce my risk of cancer
Yes I know. I've already got cancer. But I'm a genetic mutant and I KNEW that, however until I had cancer, I couldn't convince the experts of my mutant status. Because of the family history they still considered me high risk for breast and ovarian cancer, but not enough to have any preventive surgery or screening until I was at least 40. So, before I had cancer, I was at risk of cancer and I was terrified, and nothing was being done about it. In my family, cancer has been aggressive, and a death sentence. I got lucky this time - my cancer is not aggressive. I should be ok. And now, while the experts don't (yet) know what gene fault I have inherited, they've relocated my file to the "Oh Shit, Definitely a Genetic Mutant" folder, and I get to have the preventive surgery. This has a HUGE impact on the risk of me getting another breast cancer, or ovarian cancer in the future. The "population risk" (ie the risk with no genetic fault) for women in the UK of getting breast cancer is around 12-13%. After surgery, mine will be around 5%. And by having my ovaries removed, my risk of ovarian cancer will be pretty much zero. So while I will need to live with the risk of recurrence of the cancer I have now, at least:
1. Hopefully that won't happen because I am lucky to have a slow growing, non aggressive cancer that has been caught early.
2. I will be monitored very, very closely from now on.
3. I won't be at risk of ovarian cancer which is dangerous because it tends to be diagnosed late.
4. I will have very significantly reduced risk (to a lower risk than the average woman) of a new breast cancer (and one which is more aggressive and more likely to kill me than the one I have now).
6. I've discovered that one person (me) can make a difference
And on a bigger scale than I thought possible. Here I'm talking about the times where I have challenged The Sun newspaper on their use of Page 3 models in a breast cancer awareness campaign. I wouldn't have done this if I hadn't been diagnosed with cancer. It started with a blog post written as an open letter to The Sun. I know I keep showing off about this but I've had almost 10,000 hits on that, plus there were articles about it on Buzzfeed and The Debrief. The result was that the No More Page 3 campaign got some more publicity and loads more signatures on their petition (There were over 1,000 new signatures on the petition on the day when No More Page 3 circulated a link to my post!) Since then, I've written more, and had a response (albeit a ridiculous one) from The Sun's Head of PR. The No More Page 3 campaign is incredibly powerful - just this last week three major retailers (Tesco, Waitrose and Marks and Spencers) have decided to change their displays of The Sun to keep them out of the sight of children. I feel incredibly proud that I was able to contribute a bit to this campaign, because I think it is so, so important. And all I did was write a few blog posts. That's all I did. So it makes me wonder, what could I do in the future, when I'm not also dealing with the bullshit that is chemotherapy? I want to do more, I want to make a difference, and now I believe I could. So I'm going to.
7. I bounce back a bit quicker
I'm very sensitive. I know this because everyone tells me I'm too sensitive. I also know this because I'm so familiar with feeling hurt and feeling stupid. And it doesn't take much. If I think that you've thought for just a second that I'm being annoying or stupid then I'm going to feel upset about it. ("You" being almost anyone, but the more I care about you the more upset I get.) I'm not sure at the moment where I stand on this, whether I think I need to toughen up or whether I think sorrynotsorry, this is who I am (probably somewhere in between the two). BUT, either way, since being diagnosed with cancer I think I bounce back from the hurt a bit quicker. This is partly because of how valuable time is to me now and I don't want to spend it being sad, and partly because people are being so nice to me just now (which, thinking about it, is because I've got cancer haha!) and that cheers me up. Anyway... I think I'm moving in a positive direction.
8. I'm writing
A couple of weeks after being diagnosed with cancer I started writing about it here. I loved writing when I was younger and thought I was ok at it. I'm not sure what happened exactly but it's been a long, long time since I've done any real writing and I'd come round to thinking I was rubbish at it (for example, a few years ago in some feedback for an appraisal at work, someone said my writing skills "are good, although not outstanding". I was gutted.) I think this is now the 49th blog post I've written since being diagnosed with cancer so I've written a lot. And I love it. As I've said before, it's incredibly cathartic, taking all that stuff out my head and dumping it here instead. But also.... people have been really nice about my writing. I mean, really, really nice. I'm going to get a big head! This includes my friends who are obviously obliged to be nice to me regardless, but it also includes people who don't know me at all (and it also includes the person who had said my writing was good but not outstanding - the compliments I had from that person had me bouncing off the walls I was so happy!) So I think I would like to write more. Not just on this blog. But, in my future, I would like to write more, and I think maybe I could, and I think maybe I will. I didn't think that was a possibility for me before all this. So, thank you cancer.
9. I get to reduce my risk of cancer
Yes I know. I've already got cancer. But I'm a genetic mutant and I KNEW that, however until I had cancer, I couldn't convince the experts of my mutant status. Because of the family history they still considered me high risk for breast and ovarian cancer, but not enough to have any preventive surgery or screening until I was at least 40. So, before I had cancer, I was at risk of cancer and I was terrified, and nothing was being done about it. In my family, cancer has been aggressive, and a death sentence. I got lucky this time - my cancer is not aggressive. I should be ok. And now, while the experts don't (yet) know what gene fault I have inherited, they've relocated my file to the "Oh Shit, Definitely a Genetic Mutant" folder, and I get to have the preventive surgery. This has a HUGE impact on the risk of me getting another breast cancer, or ovarian cancer in the future. The "population risk" (ie the risk with no genetic fault) for women in the UK of getting breast cancer is around 12-13%. After surgery, mine will be around 5%. And by having my ovaries removed, my risk of ovarian cancer will be pretty much zero. So while I will need to live with the risk of recurrence of the cancer I have now, at least:
1. Hopefully that won't happen because I am lucky to have a slow growing, non aggressive cancer that has been caught early.
2. I will be monitored very, very closely from now on.
3. I won't be at risk of ovarian cancer which is dangerous because it tends to be diagnosed late.
4. I will have very significantly reduced risk (to a lower risk than the average woman) of a new breast cancer (and one which is more aggressive and more likely to kill me than the one I have now).
Tuesday, 18 November 2014
100 reasons why I'm thankful I was diagnosed with cancer - Part 2
Hi! I'm writing about reasons why I'm thankful I was diagnosed with cancer. This is called Part 2 for a reason! It follows on from a Part 1 - if you haven't read Part 1, it's here.
3. Experiencing the feeling you get as a result of random acts of kindness from strangers
It’s not just my friends, old and new, who have been
amazing since I was diagnosed. The world is full of lovely people, and some of those lovely people, whose names I don't even know, have been very kind to me. For example, there
was the time I went out for a meal with my friend Amy the night before my
second chemo. The pub manager sent a bottle of Prosecco to our table to
celebrate one chemo down! Then there are the times when, after talking to shop
staff about chemo, when I am hunting out things that might help me, I’ve gone
away to discover they’ve put freebies in my bag along with the things I bought. And then there are the kind messages I’ve received via my blog and Twitter from
people wishing me well with treatment.
There are people who have been kind to me who I can never repay - in many instances I can't even thank them because I don't know who they are or I'll never see them again! Anyway, it's not the free bottle of Prosecco, or the bubblebath etc that I am thankful for. It's the feeling that comes from experiencing an out of the blue kindness that doesn't ask for or expect anything in return. I'm not sure what the name of that feeling is, but it's very nice and special, and I've been getting it a lot.
4. I'm learning to trust my own gut feeling
I was diagnosed early because I trusted my gut feeling. The facts and the reassurances from experts (I was only 33, I knew I didn't have a BRCA gene mutation, I couldn't feel a lump, the change was very subtle) - as compelling as they were - didn't silence the little voice inside saying something was wrong.
Gut feeling, intuition, whatever you call it, I was absolutely right to trust it. In the four months since diagnosis, I think as a result of a combination of that (pretty dramatic) example of my gut feeling being right, and the general attitude I'm developing of "fuck it, life's too short to mess about" I've been more inclined than I ever was before to trust my own gut. (And yes, there are other times it's been right.)
I saw this on Twitter recently and it struck me that a lot of the time I do have a gut feeling, but these are exactly the things that are drowning it out.
Pride, experience and reason.
Pride, experience and reason would have had me cancel my ultrasound scan because I was so unlikely to have cancer, I would look like a silly hypochondriac, and I would risk a boy who cried wolf situation of not being listened to in the future.
Well! Pride, experience and reason.... In your face! I've clocked you now, I know what you're up to. You're stupid, boring and cowardly and I'm determined to not let you get in the way of my health, my happiness or my opportunities. My gut is cleverer than you, my heart is braver and I'm going to be happy and have a fucking good life!
5. I'm becoming less afraid of "What if?"
This follows on from the last point. I'm a thinker and I'm a worrier. Think, think, think. Worry, worry, worry.
But having cancer is starting to change that for two reasons. First of all, the whole "my time is precious" thing - I don't want to waste time, I just want to get on with my life. And secondly, what's the worst that could ever happen if I make a "wrong" decision? Will it ever be as bad as being diagnosed with cancer? Not likely. And I'm handling that aren't I? So... I can handle anything then can't I? So... what's the problem?
I've been coming to the realisation that when I'm making choices or decisions (I mean those that might be important or might not be particularly straightforward) there are two ways I can go about it:
1. Spend (waste) endless time thinking, deliberating, agonising over it to try and make the "right" decision, based on all the rational, logical arguments that come up as a result of my own knowledge or experience, or that of (well-meaning) friends. Two thoughts come to mind here. First is a quote: "The past influences everything and dictates nothing". Second is an observation: Other people are always very opinionated and love dishing out advice, but that's always going to be biased - as a result of their own experiences, fears, intentions etc.
2. Be brave, listen to my gut/heart, make a decision and go for it. This is where I need to throw in another quote....
I can't argue with that.
So, the second approach is obviously better and those gloomy "what if?"s can do one!
There are people who have been kind to me who I can never repay - in many instances I can't even thank them because I don't know who they are or I'll never see them again! Anyway, it's not the free bottle of Prosecco, or the bubblebath etc that I am thankful for. It's the feeling that comes from experiencing an out of the blue kindness that doesn't ask for or expect anything in return. I'm not sure what the name of that feeling is, but it's very nice and special, and I've been getting it a lot.
4. I'm learning to trust my own gut feeling
I was diagnosed early because I trusted my gut feeling. The facts and the reassurances from experts (I was only 33, I knew I didn't have a BRCA gene mutation, I couldn't feel a lump, the change was very subtle) - as compelling as they were - didn't silence the little voice inside saying something was wrong.
Gut feeling, intuition, whatever you call it, I was absolutely right to trust it. In the four months since diagnosis, I think as a result of a combination of that (pretty dramatic) example of my gut feeling being right, and the general attitude I'm developing of "fuck it, life's too short to mess about" I've been more inclined than I ever was before to trust my own gut. (And yes, there are other times it's been right.)
I saw this on Twitter recently and it struck me that a lot of the time I do have a gut feeling, but these are exactly the things that are drowning it out.
Pride, experience and reason.
Pride, experience and reason would have had me cancel my ultrasound scan because I was so unlikely to have cancer, I would look like a silly hypochondriac, and I would risk a boy who cried wolf situation of not being listened to in the future.
Well! Pride, experience and reason.... In your face! I've clocked you now, I know what you're up to. You're stupid, boring and cowardly and I'm determined to not let you get in the way of my health, my happiness or my opportunities. My gut is cleverer than you, my heart is braver and I'm going to be happy and have a fucking good life!
5. I'm becoming less afraid of "What if?"
This follows on from the last point. I'm a thinker and I'm a worrier. Think, think, think. Worry, worry, worry.
But having cancer is starting to change that for two reasons. First of all, the whole "my time is precious" thing - I don't want to waste time, I just want to get on with my life. And secondly, what's the worst that could ever happen if I make a "wrong" decision? Will it ever be as bad as being diagnosed with cancer? Not likely. And I'm handling that aren't I? So... I can handle anything then can't I? So... what's the problem?
I've been coming to the realisation that when I'm making choices or decisions (I mean those that might be important or might not be particularly straightforward) there are two ways I can go about it:
1. Spend (waste) endless time thinking, deliberating, agonising over it to try and make the "right" decision, based on all the rational, logical arguments that come up as a result of my own knowledge or experience, or that of (well-meaning) friends. Two thoughts come to mind here. First is a quote: "The past influences everything and dictates nothing". Second is an observation: Other people are always very opinionated and love dishing out advice, but that's always going to be biased - as a result of their own experiences, fears, intentions etc.
2. Be brave, listen to my gut/heart, make a decision and go for it. This is where I need to throw in another quote....
I can't argue with that.
So, the second approach is obviously better and those gloomy "what if?"s can do one!
Wednesday, 12 November 2014
100 reasons why I'm thankful I was diagnosed with cancer - Part 1
I recently wrote a blog post called "I am not my cancer" which was inspired by an article by Kayla Redig (on Twitter at @iamnotmycancer and blogging at Love Conquers All).
I've been reading Kayla's blog and have been inspired again! Kayla has written a list of 100 reasons why she is thankful she was diagnosed with cancer. I want to do the same. Here's why....
Cancer happened to me. I didn't ask for it. In fact, before diagnosis, I was terrified of it because of my family history of breast and ovarian cancer. I'd become somewhat obsessive about trying to avoid getting cancer myself.
I spent several weekends researching every single ingredient (we're talking several hundreds) in the products I used - toiletries, cosmetics, household products. I identified known or suspected carcinogens or cancer-risk-increasing ingredients in just about all of them. I went on to search for products that were "safer", and I spent a small fortune replacing everything I used.
I set up a massive spreadsheet of foods, researching and recording which ones had which kinds of anti-cancer properties (for example, some encourage cell death, some boost your immune system, some prevent microtumours growing the blood vessels they need in order to become full on tumours and so on) and planned what I ate each day accordingly to get a good mix. I became almost completely tea-total (you wouldn't believe it now, I know!) because alcohol increases your risk of breast cancer. I drank green tea, which I brewed for at least ten minutes even though it made me gag, because of the anticancer properties it's believed to have. I replaced all the plastic tubs I used for food, with ones that are "BPA free".
I started running regularly - exercise decreases your risk of breast cancer. I already walked a lot, but I didn't do anything more than that.
I spent a lot of time, and money, trying to reduce my risk of cancer because I was so afraid of it. As I've said before, my fear led me to counselling at Coping with Cancer. The thought of what happened to my mom happening to me was eating away at me. She suffered so much. I didn't want it to happen to me- but more significantly it made me look at my life in a different way. I saw that life was short. I wanted to make the best of it before getting cancer. Then I was diagnosed with breast cancer anyway.
I can't change the diagnosis. It happened. It can't be undone. It will be with me forever (however long forever is for me) . I could easily sit here and write a list of 100 reasons why I am pissed off at having cancer. But what would be the point? When you are forced to face your mortality, and truly understand how short life is, you don't want to waste time. My time is precious. I don't want to spend it unhappy. There's horrible shit to deal with but it doesn't need to take over me.
So here goes... The start of my list of 100 reasons why I’m thankful I was diagnosed with cancer (not in a set order!) This post will just be the first two seeing as I've written so much already! I will be back with another instalment very soon though!
1. My friends have been shining so brightly that they dazzle me every day
A cancer diagnosis can take you to some pretty dark places. When I was very first diagnosed I was really worried about how it would affect my existing friendships. Information on the MacMillan website says "It can be difficult to deal with other people’s emotions and reactions to your situation. Some people can’t cope with their own emotions and may tend to avoid difficult situations. So people might prefer to stay away from you, rather than accept that they have strong emotions they can’t deal with." I thought "Shit! How many people are going to end up distancing themselves from me?" There are a few, which does make me sad. But I don't think there's anything I can do about that. I don't want people to feel in any way obliged if they feel uncomfortable or something, just out of guilt, or pity. That won't work for me anyway.
But overall I have been absolutely stunned by the support I have had from my friends - including some that before diagnosis I didn't even know so well or hadn't seen in a long time. I am surrounded by the most incredible, strong, positive, supportive friends in the world. I am humbled by everything that my friends have taken the time and thought to do for me. Accompanying me to hospital appointments, sending me cheesy motivational song lyrics by text, stopping by with roast chickens and bunches of flowers, inspecting my nightmare-inducing bald patch for new hair growth, helping me create fake eyebrows, walking my dog, knowing when I need a beer and making sure I get one, helping me with DIY, sending me DVDs to watch when I'm ill, listening to me talk for hours even when I'm being irrational or making no sense, just getting in touch and letting me know they are thinking of me. I could feel very alone right now, but I don't. Even when I'm actually on my own, I don't feel like I am. I have a constant stream of messages popping up on my phone, in my emails, through the post. (And I am so sorry because I have been so disorganised and am really behind in getting back to some of you. Please forgive me!)
My friends brighten my days, they are absolute superstars, and I am so lucky to know such incredible people. I owe you all big time, and I will be honoured in the future to support you any time you need me. XO
2. I've made new friends who I would never had met if it weren't for cancer
Cancer can happen to anyone. But based on the women I have met and made friends with through the Younger Breast Cancer Network (UK) it seems to really be targeting a lot of incredible, beautiful, energetic, funny, kind, intelligent, young women. The kinds of women who light up a room. My life is richer as a result of these new friendships. There are too many to mention everyone individually and I know this list will keep growing but there are a few in particular who I want to thank here.
Kate - who was the first person I met from YBCN(UK). We live just around the corner from each other and very soon after I was diagnosed we met for drinks. I was amazed by Kate. She was partway through radiotherapy, having had chemo and surgery before that. She looked so well, and she was so happy and positive. She made me change my perception of what cancer treatment would be like and how I could handle it. I didn't want to be a miserable, sickly cancer patient. I wanted to be just like Kate! I'm trying, every day.
Laura - another local YBCN (UK) member my age who recently finished all of her cancer treatment. There are some things, not entirely cancer-related but not entirely unrelated either, that you need an evening to talk about with another girl who understands, cocktails in hand. Massive thank you to Laura for being exactly the friend I have needed on certain days!
Jojo - has finished chemo, and just had surgery. From day 1 of joining YBCN (UK) Jojo has had me in stitches. I love someone with a rude and disgusting sense of humour. Thanks to Jojo I can laugh at cancer. I can laugh instead of cry at the more unfortunate and gross side effects of chemo.
There are so many others too! Laura, Rosie, Claire.... many, many more, plus new friendships developing all the time. I could go on forever but I should probably save that for another post now and go and get ready to go to the hospital for chemo #5!
Laters!
I've been reading Kayla's blog and have been inspired again! Kayla has written a list of 100 reasons why she is thankful she was diagnosed with cancer. I want to do the same. Here's why....
Cancer happened to me. I didn't ask for it. In fact, before diagnosis, I was terrified of it because of my family history of breast and ovarian cancer. I'd become somewhat obsessive about trying to avoid getting cancer myself.
I spent several weekends researching every single ingredient (we're talking several hundreds) in the products I used - toiletries, cosmetics, household products. I identified known or suspected carcinogens or cancer-risk-increasing ingredients in just about all of them. I went on to search for products that were "safer", and I spent a small fortune replacing everything I used.
I set up a massive spreadsheet of foods, researching and recording which ones had which kinds of anti-cancer properties (for example, some encourage cell death, some boost your immune system, some prevent microtumours growing the blood vessels they need in order to become full on tumours and so on) and planned what I ate each day accordingly to get a good mix. I became almost completely tea-total (you wouldn't believe it now, I know!) because alcohol increases your risk of breast cancer. I drank green tea, which I brewed for at least ten minutes even though it made me gag, because of the anticancer properties it's believed to have. I replaced all the plastic tubs I used for food, with ones that are "BPA free".
I started running regularly - exercise decreases your risk of breast cancer. I already walked a lot, but I didn't do anything more than that.
I spent a lot of time, and money, trying to reduce my risk of cancer because I was so afraid of it. As I've said before, my fear led me to counselling at Coping with Cancer. The thought of what happened to my mom happening to me was eating away at me. She suffered so much. I didn't want it to happen to me- but more significantly it made me look at my life in a different way. I saw that life was short. I wanted to make the best of it before getting cancer. Then I was diagnosed with breast cancer anyway.
I can't change the diagnosis. It happened. It can't be undone. It will be with me forever (however long forever is for me) . I could easily sit here and write a list of 100 reasons why I am pissed off at having cancer. But what would be the point? When you are forced to face your mortality, and truly understand how short life is, you don't want to waste time. My time is precious. I don't want to spend it unhappy. There's horrible shit to deal with but it doesn't need to take over me.
So here goes... The start of my list of 100 reasons why I’m thankful I was diagnosed with cancer (not in a set order!) This post will just be the first two seeing as I've written so much already! I will be back with another instalment very soon though!
1. My friends have been shining so brightly that they dazzle me every day
A cancer diagnosis can take you to some pretty dark places. When I was very first diagnosed I was really worried about how it would affect my existing friendships. Information on the MacMillan website says "It can be difficult to deal with other people’s emotions and reactions to your situation. Some people can’t cope with their own emotions and may tend to avoid difficult situations. So people might prefer to stay away from you, rather than accept that they have strong emotions they can’t deal with." I thought "Shit! How many people are going to end up distancing themselves from me?" There are a few, which does make me sad. But I don't think there's anything I can do about that. I don't want people to feel in any way obliged if they feel uncomfortable or something, just out of guilt, or pity. That won't work for me anyway.
But overall I have been absolutely stunned by the support I have had from my friends - including some that before diagnosis I didn't even know so well or hadn't seen in a long time. I am surrounded by the most incredible, strong, positive, supportive friends in the world. I am humbled by everything that my friends have taken the time and thought to do for me. Accompanying me to hospital appointments, sending me cheesy motivational song lyrics by text, stopping by with roast chickens and bunches of flowers, inspecting my nightmare-inducing bald patch for new hair growth, helping me create fake eyebrows, walking my dog, knowing when I need a beer and making sure I get one, helping me with DIY, sending me DVDs to watch when I'm ill, listening to me talk for hours even when I'm being irrational or making no sense, just getting in touch and letting me know they are thinking of me. I could feel very alone right now, but I don't. Even when I'm actually on my own, I don't feel like I am. I have a constant stream of messages popping up on my phone, in my emails, through the post. (And I am so sorry because I have been so disorganised and am really behind in getting back to some of you. Please forgive me!)
My friends brighten my days, they are absolute superstars, and I am so lucky to know such incredible people. I owe you all big time, and I will be honoured in the future to support you any time you need me. XO
2. I've made new friends who I would never had met if it weren't for cancer
Cancer can happen to anyone. But based on the women I have met and made friends with through the Younger Breast Cancer Network (UK) it seems to really be targeting a lot of incredible, beautiful, energetic, funny, kind, intelligent, young women. The kinds of women who light up a room. My life is richer as a result of these new friendships. There are too many to mention everyone individually and I know this list will keep growing but there are a few in particular who I want to thank here.
Kate - who was the first person I met from YBCN(UK). We live just around the corner from each other and very soon after I was diagnosed we met for drinks. I was amazed by Kate. She was partway through radiotherapy, having had chemo and surgery before that. She looked so well, and she was so happy and positive. She made me change my perception of what cancer treatment would be like and how I could handle it. I didn't want to be a miserable, sickly cancer patient. I wanted to be just like Kate! I'm trying, every day.
Laura - another local YBCN (UK) member my age who recently finished all of her cancer treatment. There are some things, not entirely cancer-related but not entirely unrelated either, that you need an evening to talk about with another girl who understands, cocktails in hand. Massive thank you to Laura for being exactly the friend I have needed on certain days!
Jojo - has finished chemo, and just had surgery. From day 1 of joining YBCN (UK) Jojo has had me in stitches. I love someone with a rude and disgusting sense of humour. Thanks to Jojo I can laugh at cancer. I can laugh instead of cry at the more unfortunate and gross side effects of chemo.
There are so many others too! Laura, Rosie, Claire.... many, many more, plus new friendships developing all the time. I could go on forever but I should probably save that for another post now and go and get ready to go to the hospital for chemo #5!
Laters!
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