If you break your leg, it’s annoying but it’s cast, it heals, then it’s over. Becomes nothing more than a dinner party story about your teachers not believing you broke your leg playing football at break time and having to hobble about on it in huge amounts of pain all day (my husband, not me).
But I’m increasingly feeling like I will never get the joy of talking about cancer in the past.
This week I have been in hospital. One of life’s irony’s is that having the type of treatment I had for cancer, put me into early menopause, which has thrown my internal pH balance off, which means the internal scar tissue caused by my surgery to remove the cancer, can’t heal properly, which means the scar is growing abnormal cells, which will turn cancerous if not removed.
Basically – my treatment for cancer is trying to give me cancer! Excellent.
I generally stay quite positive about my treatment, but I can’t lie, this has really got me down. I just can’t be arsed quite frankly.
I don’t want to go back to hospital, I don’t want to be given what is essentially a long and painful smear and I definitely don’t want to hear about cells doing something they are not supposed to be doing…. again! I have had the results and the cells are benign, which is great, but still – why won’t they just do as they are bloody told and stop causing trouble. I actually have serious déjà vu writing that last sentence as I must have said it about fifteen times to my children this morning. But I digress…
I do think a very difficult post-cancer treatment concept is the idea of it never quite being over. I think no matter how in the back of your mind cancer is, it is still there and the tiniest thing – like a hospital appointment – can bring it all rushing to the front again. I am struggling to get used to that and there are points when running away to a remote island that is no where near a hospital seems seriously appealing.
Logically I know that it is obviously for the best that I am in hospital regularly with doctors keeping a close eye on me so that cells can be removed before they even have a chance to turn cancerous but emotions aren’t always logical are they? Mine definitely aren’t, but maybe that’s just me.
I will however not be running away to an island – I shall stand tall, keep moving forward and continue to show cancer and my troublesome cells the finger!
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