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...

I think it's fair to say I'm a social butterfly. I'm like the mother of social butterflies. It's not that I don't like some time to myself, but I really get my energy from getting out and spending time around others.  If I didn't look so much like my mum's family, this trait would easily back up my brother's adoption argument. Much like the poor ugly duckling, I think I'm the social butterfly accidentally born into the keep-to-ourselves ladybird family.  Needless to say the amount of time I need to socialise to stay energetic and happy in life is much higher than others close to me. It's also something that terrified me when I found out I had cancer. I remember telling a friend early on that I was terrified of going into treatment because I didn't want to become boring to be around. She assured me she thought it was an unlikely outcome but I remained unconvinced. This was a big barrier for me to have to face and what I've reali...

A couple of weeks ago I hit a point I had hoped I wouldn't. I've had a lot of treatment since diagnosis and we've always, in the background, known immunotherapy exists. We've chatted about it a few times and always found some other option. It has remained the card up the sleeve and that's how I liked it. Until two weeks ago. That's when the world went for another spin and a spectacular crash for me. I went for my scan result and was informed the chemotherapy isn't working. Sure, the two smaller spots are shrinking but the big bugger (Stephen Shitbag) who's wedged himself at the back of my liver and is trying to buddy up with blood vessels and stuff, he's not having any of this chemo crap. While the rest of my body is busy falling apart from it, he's thriving and has grown two centimetres since the last scan. The shitbag. Well, we can't be having that. Me getting sicker from something that's supposed to be killing him. So chemo is off ...

"Tired of trying to cram her sparkly, star-shaped self into society's beige square holes, she chose to embrace her ridiculous awesomeness and shine like the freaking supernova she was meant to be." My aunt posted this quote months ago and I just had to save it, knowing it was exactly what I want to say in this post! This post is probably the most important one yet for me. I've known I've wanted to write it for sometime, I've spoken to large groups of teenagers just scratching the surface on this topic and I feel like now is the time. It's the time because this is the month of my 32nd birthday (I know many of you will be shocked I'm not turning 24 again this year!), and it's also the month I'm going to start the process of losing my physical identity again as I begin back on intravenous chemotherapy. To be honest my physical identity is starting to feel so fluid I'm not really sure I know what it is anymore. It's also the tim...

12am 1st of January 2018 I sat on that questionable terrazza in Chile, saying Cheers to the New Year with a non-alcoholic cocktail and a slice of pizza. The stray dog at my feet lay quite happily, unfazed by all the noise around us, and I laughed as I began my commitment to saying Yes to my year, to my life. We're now halfway through this commitment and I really want to consider what saying yes has done for me and those around me. To start with I want to apologise for saying yes to making the word yes a verb; it just feels appropriate this year. So as anyone who has read my January 1st blog knows, I started by saying yes to the circumstances offered to me. Not just accepting these circumstances but embracing them. I laughed at every level of imperfection in that moment and thought about how perfect it actually was. I could have chosen never to have taken on the challenge of going to South America for four weeks, with cancer, after two major surgeries and while still takin...

I've always said that travelling gave me an education I could never buy. One that could never be taught in schools or universities; that simply needs to be learnt as each opportunity presents itself. Those opportunities could be great fun or amazingly challenging. All of them important to deal with. I feel so thankful to have had another four weeks to continue my education in life and as slow as I've been on my blogs I want to share some of those learnings. Some useful, some not. Language is great in it's ambiguity: I thought I spoke Spanish to a point. I guess that's still strictly true but we had some fun experiences with it. It was quite empowering to realise I was still able to get by in Spanish, speak to people and get done what I needed to get done even if it wasn't perfect. What I did learn was there are many more differences between the Castellano I have learnt and South American Spanish. In some of many language confusions we established that ...

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...

"I used to think time was a thief. But you give before you take. Time is a gift. Every minute. Every Second."  - Alice Kingsliegh from Alice through the Looking Glass. This quote really resonated with me the other day when watching the film for the second time (the first time thinking I was perfectly healthy and had decades left in my life). It made me really think about my appreciation of the time I have and the people and opportunities I have or have had in my life. About a month ago I took another blow to my already "not great" diagnosis. My treatment plan is out the window and lots of question marks started flying around my medical teams. What did I do in response to this news? Insisted we had dinner by the waterfront and the next morning I went to the beach. Sitting on the beach I was happy. Not a feeling many people might expect me to feel the day after that news but I felt so fortunate to be able to take myself to the beach, feel the sun shining do...

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....