Thrills, pills and a headscarf

I love an inspirational quote. I'm a bit of a sucker for a nice little line to pick up my mood. As some of you may have noticed, Alice in Wonderland is a particular favourite of mine. However there's one line I see quite regularly that I just can't abide - the "This too shall pass" phenomenon. Something about this one really winds me up. I think it's the naivety of it. The truth is, not everything does pass. I got diagnosed with cancer over three years ago. Initially I thought I would take chemotherapy pills for two years and then I'd be done. It would pass. That was naive. Once you've been diagnosed with cancer it doesn't pass. Even if you recover and get the all clear, it doesn't pass. You get to live with the knowledge that you can be attacked from within your body, without knowledge, at any time. I would say for the majority of people who have had or have cancer, you live with a heightened suspicion of everything you feel. It wasn't...

On Saturday I posted a photo of me smiling in the hospital. Saturday was one of the first times I felt like smiling while I was in the hospital. Things haven't really improved but they're semi-controlled and I had decided I just needed to have a good day. I've actually had a really rubbish month. While the world has been falling apart with the Covid-19 threat, my world has been doing it's usual kind of cancer related falling apart as well. I attempted to go into isolation long before we were told to as a country. I'm already high risk thanks to a lung tumour and the medication I'm on so I intended to hide myself away in my safe little house and we introduced a whole lot of extra levels of germ control to stop anything getting in. Unfortunately my body had ideas other than isolation. My amazing drug that has been keeping me healthy (based on my low standards) appears to have made my immune system a little confused and it is now attacking my liver. That'...

I posted this photo from the plane as we returned back from Sydney on Friday. I was smiling; and that was very genuine. I was relieved and thrilled, and a little stunned, to hear the word stable on Wednesday. It was a feeling I could not have imagined before this diagnosis. I regularly share pictures of me smiling because I am generally pretty happy to be alive. I'd like to share a little behind the build up to this most recent smile. In December I got my usual pre-Christmas bad news. I love Christmas and all the fun, celebration and family time that comes with it. Cancer appears to be pretty determined to challenge this love because, instead of coal in my stocking, which actually seems pretty appealing these days, it gifts me shitty news each pre-Christmas appointment. It started in Christmas 2016 (pre-diagnosis) when I found out my liver wasn't functioning properly. Christmas 2017 it gifted me some new tumours in my newly regrown liver and a very difficult decision on w...

I recently sat in a bar in Manchester chatting to a friend who asked me about my blogs and how I write them. I explained that I don't blog to a schedule, it has to be when the time is right and I have the right topic. For that reason this one started in Madrid and is ending in New Zealand because I wasn't going to do it until I could really focus on it. There have been a lot of clues to point me in the direction of this topic lately. A lot of events or statements that got me thinking about how easily we neglect ourselves as we get caught up in "life", often forgetting that life is living. To set the scene of this blog, it started sat in a little apartment in Madrid at 7.30am, having given in to the jet lag that had had me awake since 5.15am. I finally decided this time before the city really comes alive could be used far more productively (and more enjoyably than tossing and turning trying to sleep). I opened the balcony doors (the only time it will be cool enough...

I like to think I was a fairly present person before this cancer diagnosis. I like to think a lot of things.  What I can say is this diagnosis has made me a far more present person, in so many ways, than ever before. Even with that wonderful chemo brain that makes me unbelievably forgetful, with the fatigue, nausea and tendency to space out (particularly when I'm low on blood sugars) I believe I'm learning the art of being more present. Note I say learning, not have learnt. (If we ever think we've reached perfection then we've failed ourselves - a hangover from my Learning and Development days) Something I realised after being told I may have less time than many is that I wanted my family and friends to know just how much they mean to me. For my nephews and nieces to know that as long as they continue being the wonderful people they are and never hurt anyone I will always think the world of them, that they are amazing and I couldn't ask for anyone better to...

Written, as promised, for my mother. Since I started travelling I said you always want things to go really right or really wrong - you never want average. At least with really right or really wrong you've got a good story. This is a rationale I started applying to life too. I had no idea how much it was going to come back and bite me in the arse! About a week after returning from my South America trip I sat in a cafe with my mum in Karangahake, discussing many things including my health - or lack thereof. She said to me that I may be giving a false impression that this is an easy journey with my positivity. That several people had commented on how well I was dealing with this and I acknowledged I had had similar comments. So, because it's the year of yes and because I love my mum (even though I tell her the wonderful daughterly things like how terrible she is and how I'm pretty sure her carcinogenic toasted sandwiches were the cause of the cancer in the first place)...

I want to start my blog by thanking all those who have said yes with me. Yes to living, yes to appreciating each moment and embracing each experience. I made a bold statement to put it out there that I was going to live a year of yes and I'm not regretting it. Today marks my one year anniversary/ commemoration/ celebration (I don't know which word to use here) of the beginning of my fight against cancer. I spent yesterday (the actual anniversary in New Zealand time) experiencing Iguazu Falls and, it's not often that this happens, it left me speechless! The sheer power, force and determination overwhelmed in both a pensive and excited way. I feel so thankful to have been able to have had this experience! I'm now more than two weeks into travelling, and more than two weeks into saying yes, and I have truly embraced it. I left a little piece of my heart in Buenos Aires; a crazy, busy, bustling city so full of beauty and fun! The colours of La Boca, Tango in Sa...

In October 2016, I sat with my friend, in Bulgaria on my 30th birthday, after a somewhat stressful year, and told her 2017 was going to be amazing, I had decided I was really going to live it. What I didn't elaborate on was my plan for this - I was going to live a year of yes. Essentially I was going to say yes to everything unless it didn't fit with my moral code; that way I would truly experience everything the world was going to offer. I had no idea what 2017 had in hold for me and in reflection I did have a year of yes of sorts. I said yes, slice me open - twice; yes, load me full of pills; yes, inject me with bags of chemicals.... all because I want to spend as much time here as I can. Over the last couple of days I've read many reflections from friends around the world saying they hope the next year will be better. Although this year is far from what I had hoped for I have to say there is plenty in 2017 which I have loved. I have re-established old friendships, fo...

I bought a key ring with this very statement (one I still believe in) in March in this year after my first cancer diagnosis and before the second, much worse, diagnosis. My fight started this year in January when I went in for surgery on my liver. Although the doctors were a bit confused by the scans I was assured it couldn't be cancer, I didn't have the right indicators for it. After being sliced open, as I like to term it, my surgeon realised I actually had a huge tumour (over 2 kg!) which had taken possession of my adrenal gland. Thankfully, having such an amazing surgeon he quickly changed tack and it was removed. I named her Gertrude the Great - because why not? It was a couple of weeks later that the cancer diagnosis came back, one that took me by total surprise. I guess I'd taken being a healthy person for granted all this time and even with the tumour didn't really believe I could have cancer. It's a very weird thing looking mortality in the face at 30....