Thrills, pills and a headscarf

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...

When I was learning my dodgy version of Spanish I found a phrase I really connected with. "Tener ganas" was more than it's loose translation of to want something. It was like a desire, a feeling inside of craving a thing. At least that's how it was described to me. I loved it. I didn't just want to go to the pool when it was 38 degrees, I craved it. I didn't just want  to go out dancing, I desired it. My friend and I loved it so much we incorporated it into our bastardised Spanglish vocabulary with sentences like "I've got ganas to...". It really meant more to us than to just want. Language is a wonderful thing. I'm a geek and enjoy the affect language can have when it comes to communicating a point or painting a colourful story. So, yup, I'm blogging about language today. Geek away. As you probably know I inadvertently joined the cancer club almost three years ago now. It was a giant oops in my life but here I am in a club nobody ev...

It was Rare Cancer Day this month. October the first. At least, I read it was but it seems rare cancer doesn't even get an official date for awareness. It misses out again. I'm acknowledging this potential date of Rare Cancer Awareness anyway. I'm acknowledging it because it's bloody important that we talk about it. I've lost track of how many times I've had to explain that my boobs are one of the few parts of my body still perfectly in tact. When I say cancer, the crowds shout “breast”. Now I love that there is a great awareness that breast cancer is a risk. Hopefully that means all the lovely ladies out there are staying conscious and checking any lumps. There are several women I am very glad had been doing just that and are still around to keep me company. My point is that as a 30-something women it's assumed that my breasts were the guilty party. That was not the case. Macmillan (the number one point of reference for cancer in the UK) states that a...

I got another good scan result recently. That's the third one in a row. I'm nervous to say this because I don't want to jinx it but that's an all time record in the "journey" that is this cancer battle I'm doing. I've smashed my previous record, of one, out the park. And by one I don't mean one in a row; I mean one in the previous two years. Before this year I'd had one, only one, good scan result from all the scans I'd had. Somehow, even though the trend had been a series of bad results, I remained hopeful every single time. Every time I hoped I would be told the tumours were shrinking, that they were responding to the treatment, but that wasn't the case. Scans actually seemed to mean the three monthly meeting to consider the next treatment step. Except that one good scan I had. Before that one I told my oncologist that I knew the tumours had responded to the radiotherapy on my liver. I don't know if I really did know or if that ...

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...