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