Sometimes it’s easier to write it down, to get it off your chest. Also, the keyboard isn’t emotionally involved and it can’t see you crying, especially when it’s the red faced, snot dripping off your chin kind of ugly crying.
So, 2016; mastectomy, left breast, or what I like to call my first born. My second, spinal compression due to metastasis, in 2018. Then came the twins, metastasis in both hips, one of which led to a total hip replacement, in 2020. Greedy, I hear you shout. You’d think I’d had my fair share huh? Nope.
During a routine scan review after my back surgery my oncologist noticed ‘a little anomaly’ on my liver.” I’m not worried about that right now” says my confident oncologist, “let’s sort these hips out first”. I’m glad she wasn’t worried, I’m glad she slept at night, cos guess what? My liver is now riddled. But, “let’s not worry about that right now, eh?
Ok. Let’s fast forward to making a decision about treatment. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’d done letrazole, anastrazole, radiotherapy blah blah, I mean serious ‘This is toxic and makes you feel a bit sh*t treatment. To be honest, I can’t remember the names of all of those that I tried, let’s be honest with all this going on, some days I don’t remember my own name.
This, not very kind to your body, tablet plus jab, medication was started September 2020. I have tried all kinds of combinations and all too often have been extremely ill after 1 cycle and the cycles have been stopped and started more times than I can remember (there goes my memory again). Consequently in the last 10 months I’ve only completed 4 cycles.
“Madness” I hear you cry. No. What is madness is that the latest combo suits my body No throwing up on the hour, every hour. No, sh*tting through the eye of an elf’s needle. Hip hip hurray. Again, no.
“Dear madam, you are extremely vulnerable (written, I presume, by Sherlock Holmes) please accept a double coronavirus jab” So off I went, sleeves rolled up, to the local disused something, twice, and was dutifully vaccinated.
Did these two lovely afternoons out, away from the confines of my home, the comfort and security, the knowledge that I was taking all necessary precautions to protect my extremely vulnerable self, pay off? Was I safe? Was I protected from this potentially deadly virus. Was I hell.
So, that’s where I am now. Red faced, snot dripping off my chin, ugly crying.
Am I being a big baby? Do I need to get a grip? Do I need to shake myself off and give myself a good talking to? Because, to be honest, I don’t know if I can. Is there an answer? Also, not wanting to harp on about how woeful I actually am, during the same period, I’ve lost my dad, lost 2 dear friend, both to cancer, my uncle, to cancer, my sister in law to cancer, and this week have watched a dear family friend bury her 9 year old daughter, cancer again.
I know there are probably enough words in this little rant to class it as an essay. But, like I said at the start ‘sometimes it’s easier to write it down’.
