Two in as many weeks. You can tell the cancer is invading my life more than usual.
I often feel that the only time I write this blog is when I am down. Or something happens. Of course life goes on in the background. The day to day of housework, school, dinner and the general monotony of life. Having cancer does not mean that you can not do this stuff. You just have to do more. Even when you are dog tired, the pain killers aren't working and your body is screaming at you to sit down. You still have to carry out the minutiae of life. But perhaps because you do keep on it keeps it at bay? A bit?
I am taking time to sit and think my thoughts out and attempt to order them this morning. They need some sorting. The boys have a cold and are busying themselves with a shoebox, Mr H is out on his bike, Oldest master H had a friend to sleep as it was his birthday so they are busy xboxing and Little Miss H is still sleeping off her dance/act/sing class. The TV is on and politicians are arguing, I have a pile of history books next to me and a cup of coffee. This is a form of normality. The only real sign this morning of the non normality that I inhabit is here. This blog. Were I not ill I think it likely this blog would not exist. But it does.
Yesterday should have been a good day, it was Master H's twelfth birthday, he has been telling us all week so it was impossible to forget (winking). Instead of smiling and being happy for him though I ended up crying. Crying because yet again it is another anniversary of some kind and inevitably a day that cancer is more present than usual. The ordinary days, the school run days therefore are much easier.
My first week of university next week and already cancer is affecting it. I have to have my stent replaced next Thursday so will miss a day of lectures. Not amused. But then I need to have this operation. You see at the age of 38 I have become to some level incontinent. Yep. Oversharing maybe? I prefer to think that if I don't tell you the reality then the blog becomes a lie. I had a contract with you, you see, I agreed to tell you the real cancer. The hidden cancer. In the hope that we all become more thoughtful and perhaps a little more aware? There is an irony in the fact that the twins aren't the only ones wearing nappies. The earlier operation should hopefully fix this latest unwelcome side effect so fingers crossed.
Cancer doesn't stop when the treatment stops. It carries on. It keeps on giving and always, always takes.
More people affected by cancer who journeys I have followed have also been taken, Dr Kate Granger, she fought for the 'Hello, my name is....' scheme in hospitals. So you know who is treating you. Rowena Kincaid who shared her bucket list with us, a gorgeous lady, also taken too soon. A lovely local lady who I had the privilege of meeting also gone, taken from her beautiful family. And a young lady locally who fought a brain tumour but was cruelly taken the day before her wedding. Alongside all the other unknown others that it took but who mean something to someone somewhere.
But. In all this sadness there are signs of hope. Stories about immunotherapy become more and more prevalent, the new 'wonder' drug for cancer and people are surviving the disease longer then ever before. 50% of those diagnosed 10 years ago were still alive in 2010-11 and cancer survival has doubled in the last 40 years. If these are the figures for those diagnosed ten years ago trends suggest that those of us diagnosed after 2010 will probably in all likelihood perform even better. So if we are able to adapt and live with our new normality the signs are there that we may do so for longer than ever before.
