Thrills, pills and a headscarf

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...

Today I had a total meltdown. A public meltdown. The kind of meltdown that involved tears and cries of I can't cope. At a reception desk. With a load of strangers around. A meltdown at total strangers. It wasn't my finest moment and now I look back at it I can laugh and say "wow, that was a bit crazy of me. I guess nobody should mess with me at the moment". It was a meltdown that had me warning my mum if she couldn't contact me I'd probably been locked up. Looking back at it I also feel completely justified. I had treatment yesterday. As much as I like this drug, treatment always makes me feel a little bit shit. It is a foreign substance being injected directly into my central vein, after all. I slept yesterday afternoon and as I slept an allergic reaction started to develop. This is unfortunate as, completely unrelated to cancer, I also have the world's most ridiculous allergy, to dust mite. There had been some work done in the hotel I stay in at trea...

As the bus pulled up I suspected this was going to be an uncomfortable ride. There were plenty of people at the stop, cards ready to tap on, and already things were looking pretty full in there. It was only about a 15 minute ride so definitely achievable but I wasn't feeling too excited about it. We all climbed on and juggled our way down the aisle finding a suitable place to stop. I strategically placed myself next to a pole and leant my whole body against it. Looking longingly at the courtesy seats full of seemingly healthy people I thought to myself "shit, I wish I looked sicker". It's a weird thought to have. I spend so much of my life doing everything to avoid looking sick and here I am thinking "if I looked like a cancer patient in the films, you know the ones who are completely bald, with grey skin and that tragically sad look permanently plastered on their faces, someone would definitely offer me a seat". Damn my able-looking body. Maybe I should...

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...

These last few weeks I’ve been waging mental war against the demons that like to creep in from time to time. This presents itself in many ways, a lot of which can go unnoticed by others and rely on me to take action. I can struggle with motivation, have trouble keeping a positive frame of mind, get annoyed by small things and struggle with eating – either not wanting food or not eating well. I have the ability to acknowledge that there are many reasons this could happen. I’m still waiting to find out what will happen with treatment (almost two months of not knowing); I’ve been very sick with a virus which knocked my more fragile body about and this has stopped me doing things I would like to have done. Not being active or social are immediate red flags for diminishing mental health for me and I know I need to work harder when these things are limited. I often get comments about how happy I am. How I almost always have a smile and am so positive about such an unfortunate illne...