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 29th 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 29th 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 29th.
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 27th 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
