6 years on x

6 years on.

My mum asked me if I was going to write a blog for my 6 year anniversary? To be honest, I hadn't really thought of it but mum reminded me of the reason I started to write originally - to remind all the lovely ladies currently being diagnosed or treated that there is life after cancer. I  think I feel like a bit of a fraud writing now, now that life has resumed to something close to normal. Close. But never quite normal;)

Prepare for a rant. Most random rant.....

So, the last time I wrote was in February. I has just had a major 'wobble.' I had a scan, discovered my fairy god mother in the form of a detective psychologist, and got some results that confirmed I was still 'disease-free' despite having convinced myself 'it' was back. All in a months work for a cancer patient.

So, whats been happening in the last year?

In the main, just life. Wonderful normal, day in day out life. Really wonderful life. I don't want to come across as stupidly grateful, or blissfully happy, because I have as many ups and downs as the next person. But its fair to say that this 6th year of remission, has been about my most stable year since diagnosis. I've worried about normal things and it feels good.

 - I changed schools for my gorgeous girl. For lots of reasons, I made the decision to move Indyana to a different school and have spent the last 3 months worrying about whether I done the right thing by her. Fingers crossed I have. Despite missing her old school and trusted group of friends, my little warrior has risen to the challenge and put on her bravest armoury to deal with this. I think she trusts that I have done it for the right reasons despite not really understanding why. I love her so much.

 - During this year, Indyana has curiously wanted to know more about Cancer. She vaguely knew about my illness without really understanding it. She was just too young. But this year, she seems to be more aware. I have tried my hardest to strike the right balance. As a mum with advanced cancer, I always have a niggling reservation about what the future holds. I never feel completely OK about telling her I am ok, whilst wanting desperately to reassure her that I was one of the very fortunate, lucky people. Its a dilemma. A very little bit of me wants her to know the truth. That I still don't know 100%, despite it being 6 years on. Should I very gently prepare her? No! So of course, most of the time, I approach the subject with absolute confidence and try my best to tackle the subject in the only way I know how. Indy saw the Macmillan cake bake advert and asked me if she could host an event. Love her. She invited all her local friends and Mums and we raised a few hundred pounds. She was more interested in playing with her friends on the day but was equally proud of the money she raised. Not as proud as me though.

 - My business has been going well. Two years in, and we are still going. Strong. We have had another good year. Its been tough but good. We have to win business month in, month out, but with a lot of self-belief, a touch of luck and a a bit of knowledge, we are doing ok. Claire and I are like a married couple. But a couple that have a whole lot of mutual respect and a common goal for life as well as business. Despite its challenges, I really love what I do. I love the thrill of the chase, the reward of winning a new client, and the satisfaction that comes from seeing your work in a major retailer. And I get to drop my little girl to school most days. That is something to be really grateful for.

 - My family are well. Mum and Dad and Sis are healthy and happy. I feel so blessed about this. The thing about Cancer is that it does make you acutely aware of mortality. I get panicky about my family and the time we have left together. I can't help it. I try not to dwell on it, and am quite good at quickly moving on from these dark thoughts. But I do this weird thing where its like I'm looking back on my life and I want us to all pause.... pause so that no-one gets old.... or ill... it freaks me out. Its just life. And I feel so very very grateful that I have healthy parents that I love. The best Grandparents ever. Dad is still buying cool trainers that his grandsons also have, and I love him for it. My nephews (London and Dublin) are growing into funny, sensitive, handsome lads and my scouser nieces are simply mental. Brilliantly mental.

My friends continue to mean the world to me. Tra, Kee, Ju, M, Lee, Tan, Sig, Vicky, Rhonda, Claire, Nancy, Joy, Sam and Dawn .... Another year of amazing memories, giggles and love. What would life be without friends? Mine enrich my life daily.

Paul is Paul. I drive him mad daily. We went to Liverpool this weekend to see the family for Xmas. I had a moment . We were shopping in town and stopped for lunch and a drink. Aunty Lollipop was looking after Indy, and we had a rare couple of hours just the two of us. I looked at Paul and remembered the journey we had been through over the last 20 years. We grew up together. Our first home was in Liverpool. In many ways, we have become very different people to the two travellers that fell in love in L.A. but we have made it. We have had our share of challenges but we are us. Us - that would rely on each other to the last. Us that loves each other to the last.

Now, can you put that curtain pole up please Paul;)))

So, of course, I had my obligatory wobble during the year. I had some odd pains in my cervix. Pains that I haven't had before. Unusual ones worry me. So, I called my Mcmillan nurse. The call was so very strange. For me, I needed to be told to calm down, don't worry, its nothing. For her, it was very factual. Given my advanced stage of cancer I wasn't really out of the woods for 9years or so, and on that basis I should be checked. She was 'cautiously optimistic' that it was nothing to worry about.

Those 2 words. Those two words.

You might not recall but when I was diagnosed, Mccormack told me she was 'cautiously optimistic.' For some reason, I felt like they were a time bomb of pretend positivity. The words they had been taught to say when there was no guarantee. I get it. There isn't any guarantee. Stop saying those 2 bloody words.

Anyway, the pains faded and went away. Another blip in the journey. Just a bloody small inconvenience. Part of the aftermath.

So, in the main, its been a nice and ordinary year. Just the way I like it.  Life goes on, it resumes normality. I do not have any wise words to impart that others before me haven't. Just cherish every single day. Each one is an absolute gift worth treasuring. Keep learning, keep loving and keep laughing.

I can't wait for Xmas.  Its a weird time of year for me since the Big C. Too much pressure about having made it for another year. I was so scared that first Xmas. Watching my 2 year old opening her presents, not knowing... This year, I can't wait. Panto on Xmas Eve, Family on Xmas Day, and stepping aboard my favourite mode of transport Boxing Day - the big bird in the sky.

 Have a good one all,

Merry Xmas, much love xx

And finally, an end to my tale x

Hi all

So firstly, sorry for the delay in writing this. Hopefully I can explain…  The last few months have been slightly tricky for me….

On the 29^th December, my 5 year anniversary, I did start to write my blog. I just didn’t finish it. I couldn’t get all my words right. I just didn’t know what to say. It’s fair to say I was a bit confused at the time.

Here is what I wrote on the 29^th December and couldn’t finish… 

So, today I am writing 5 years from the day that I completed my treatment.  I was hoping that this blog might be a little more ‘final’ in its content than it is going to be, but I wouldn’t want to write anything other than the complete truth. 

On reflection, I think it was a bit naïve of me to think that I would hit the 5-year  anniversary and life would resume to complete normality. That I would sigh a big sigh of relief and never think about it again. When you have had cancer, life does change irreversibly. And no anniversary can change that.

So, I am going to get the ‘truth’ out the way before we go on to celebrate. I almost didn’t write this. I wanted to wait until things were more certain and write then. But, I did promise to write on the 29^th.

SO the truth is, I have been having some odd pains for about the last 6 weeks. Maybe longer. The consultant always said that if a pain was consistent for 3 weeks or more, I should check in. I convinced myself that the pains were anxiety. That I had put myself under a lot of pressure in the build up to this date, and that this was coming out in me physically. This could still be the case. I don’t know?

I do know that I feel very pissed off that I got so close and this bloody big inconvenience has struck again. So, very reluctantly, I went back to the hospital for the first time in 4 years to see the consultant. It was not a nice experience.

I wanted her to tell me that it was all OK, and that I had nothing to worry about. And of course, she couldn’t do that. She gave me an examination and didn’t find any obvious lumps and bumps but quite rightly told me she wasn’t a magician and couldn’t rule out anything sinister unless I had a scan. You may recall from my previous chapters, that this terrifies me. The actual scan scares me but more over the knowledge that someone knows whether IT has returned, and the results. I can’t really explain how much this terrifies me. I know I need to have one, and a date has been set, but the jury is still out as to whether I will go. The consultant also told me that I couldn’t say I was safely out of the woods until 8 or 9 years. It was a real slap in the face. Bloody Cancer.

I really really did not want this blog to be gloomy though. I am writing it from St Lucia. Paul, Indy and I hit to the skies on the 27^th December to join our friends Tanya and Mark and their girls for a 2-week holiday in paradise. And today, I am celebrating. Right here, right now, I have made it against the odds to beat the Big C. We started the day with a wonderful parcel of amazing celebratory cards and messages from my friends and family at home. Everyone had thoughtfully sent photos of all the good times over the years. Then, Tanya had arranged for a chef to come to the villa and cook a champagne breakfast for all of us. It was just so kind and I felt so special…

Back to today

So, as you can see, I was in conflict. I wanted desperately to celebrate but I had this nagging fear that something wasn’t quite right and I knew that I needed a scan. The rest of the holiday was lovely but tinged with these pains that were getting more consistent as time went on.

When I returned to the UK, the pains continued. I tried to reassure myself that it didn’t mean the big C was back, but as time went on, it got harder and harder. I started to go on a mental spiral downhill, and slowly, that scary character called death kept rearing his ugly head again. Those very dark thoughts started emerging. On the surface, I have been continuing to function, work, socialize but underneath, it’s been a battle.

So, finally last Friday, I plucked up the courage to go for the scan. Again, this was very traumatic for me. I just didn’t want to find myself back here. I felt really angry that after 5 years, I should find myself, back under this formidable machine – that could see whether I was going to live or not.  My fate would be the UCLH I.T. system.

I am really conscious that I sound so dramatic, but I can only tell it as I felt it  - and it felt like a drama.

Immediately after the scan, I wrote to Doctor Mccormack, telling her that I was not strong enough to get the results and that she mustn’t tell me either way of the outcome. And I meant it – I needed more time to process how I was going to get the results. I can’t forget the last time I went to get the results and my legs turned to lead.

And now to the conclusion…..

Over the last week or so, I conceded that I might actually need some help, getting this sorted. I asked my GP to refer me to a clinical psychologist. This is basically a psychiatrist who specializes in cancer patients. I have had some experience of counseling at the start of my treatment and didn’t really get on with the techniques. However, yesterday, I met a very special psychologist, who works out of the QE2 hospital in Welwyn. I think she might just have turned out to be my fairy godmother.

I liked her immediately. Unlike previous experiences, she was warm and empathetic. She actually said that she would be as terrified as me, if it were her, and that I was normal.  She got it just right. She was caring but straight talking. She just got me. She asked me if I would like her to get my results for me. I said no. And she helped me work through all my fears and we started the process of working out how I could find the strength to get my results. We agreed that we would meet again in a couple of weeks.

Today has been somewhat special.

Whilst working from Claires house (my business partner), I received a call on my mobile.  I saw the unknown caller ID, and my sixth sense, told me it was going to be an important call.

I froze, and asked Claire to answer. It was my psychologist.

I took the call, and this wonderful lady, proceeded to tell me that my scan was all clear. I am cancer free. IT ISNT BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!

She had taken it upon herself to contact my consultant at UCLH, get my results, seek permission to tell me, and then call me.  (and I have since found out she was off work sick). I cried with happiness down the phone, and so did she. What an amazing example of the NHS at its best.

I rang my lovely husband, who absorbed the news with his usual style. Once again, during these 3 months, he didn’t falter in his belief I would be ok, despite me trying to convince him otherwise on numerous occasions.

I rang my Mum and Dad, who cried out loud with happiness. Once again, they are the only ones who have really shadowed me in my fear – as only parents do.

I rang my sister, who breathed a deep sigh of sisterly relief.

I text all my gorgeous friends and extended family, who sent me all sorts of wonderful replies and love.

I am writing this with mixed feelings of elation, shock, happiness, bewilderment…. What are the pains?  Are they in my mind? Are they anxiety? Who cares! They aren’t cancer.

Once again, I feel like I have been given a second chance at life. I can hold my beautiful girl knowing that I will always be able to hold her. I can comfort her knowing I will always be able to comfort her. I can love her without worrying about loving her too much.

You know what I mean?

Cancer. Bloody cancer. Once again, the reality of how lucky I have been has blown me away. Left me breathless. Left me bereft for all those less lucky.

I apologize for this ramble.  It’s still so raw. I will write again with some funny and happy tales, whilst I sleep well tonight. For the first time in a long time.

Much love, Natalie