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 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...