It’s a really weird feeling living with incurable cancer. When first diagnosed, it is such a shock not only to you but to everyone around you. The concept that your life is going to be cut short is hard to get your head around and your friends and family rally around as you break the news to the ones closest to you and then further away. The everyday presence of social media allows you to let your bigger network know the news which I guess means that when the time comes and you do die, the surprise of finding out about your death is lessened as people have followed your story across the many different social platforms that there are and will probably find out instantly that you have died. I often think back to when I was a teenager and 3 of my friends were killed in a horrific car crash. The first that I heard about it was when I heard a news report on the radio as I was in the car travelling back from school and thinking that it was a terrible tragedy, not knowing who was in the car. It wasn’t until several hours later when another friend rang me on my landline that I learnt who was in the car and the overwhelming feeling of sadness that encompassed my whole body. For days and weeks afterwards I bought all the newspapers that had reports on the crash so I could gain an understanding of what had happened to try and get my head around it. We didn’t have Instagram or another online platforms to keep their memories alive or honour them, just our hard copies of pictures, memories from talking to each other about how fabulous they were and the news articles. I kept all of the articles for nearly 28 years and it wasn’t until recently when I came across them again that I felt that I no longer needed to keep them.

I know what I am going through is different but In a macabre way, I do wonder what the difference would be this if was happening 15 – 20 years ago (apart from the fact that I would probably have died much more quickly as there was NO life extending treatment) My friends and networks certainly wouldn’t have the daily reminder of me popping up on their phones talking about the latest treatment that I was having or reminding them that I was trying to train for Ironman (have I mentioned that I am training for an Ironman…) There definitely would not have been news articles written about me (which is a shame as I am hilarious!) or the opportunity to look at my many social media accounts to remind themselves or how bloody hilarious I was 😉 They would have their memories, some grainy photographs and some dodgy video camera footage of me aged 7 performing in the local village hall the Pied Piper with JADA (Junior Arkendale Dramatic Society – I am not being biased but how Wendy, Amy, Jo, Helen and I were not talent spotted from that performance is the biggest travesty of the 20th century) I guess that there would have been more people who would go for a few years not knowing that I had died to only find out from a chance conversation with someone that they bumped into.

The other weird thing that happens after your diagnosis is that life goes on. I know that that sounds obvious and a stupid thing to say but it is true. After the initial state of shock and rallying, life does just crack on and the everyday tasks and ups and downs continue. For your friends and family and for you, albeit for you with a level of anxiety and dread every time another unexplained lump or bump appears and you have to have yet another scan or test to make sure that the cancer hasn’t spread further. I sometimes feel apologetic when I bring up my diagnosis with people, as if I expect them to be bored of talking about it or thinking that they have so much other stuff going on in their lives that they don’t want to talk about it. Subconsciously conversations begin to get less and less the further away from your initial diagnosis you get, not that people forget but it is just that life continues to live. That’s ok. Life is there to live and if there is anything that this whole situation has taught me is that this whole big messy, crazy life is wonderful and there to be explored.

I don’t tend to make new year resolutions but what I have pledged to myself this year is not only to live but to thrive. My 4th round of Chemosaturation is at the beginning of February and whilst this is the end of this particular treatment and we are ever hopeful that it has been doing it’s job, it also feels like it is just the beginning, the beginning of exploring what comes next, what other treatment trials and options there are to push the timeline of doom and the beginning of trying to be able live life to the fullest again, thrive in whatever I do and to see as many sunrises and sunsets as possible.

Hx