Two years on - How are you now, all sorted right?

 This month marks two years since my surgery for breast cancer.

It’s quite a landmark and in many ways feel still very recent. In August I had my first repeat mammogram., 2 years on from the routine check that discovered my cancer. I waited with bated breath for the results. This period of trying to be positive but a constant niggle of what if is known as scanxiety. They said results would take 3 weeks. On the last day of the 3rd week still no results. 

This is when the scanxiety goes off the chart. In my head if it was all clear I would have heard by now and the fact that I haven’t is because the results have gone to multi-disciplinary team and they are having to slot me in to clinic. Make no mistake all this and more goes on in my head in the early hours and no matter how much my positive Petunia says it will be ok. After a couple of sleepless nights, I get up to find a letter on the doormat. Waits…opens… the results of your recent mammogram were satisfactory. Exhales, phew, thank goodness for that. I let everyone know and all is good. My mind is put at rest. 

It takes a day or two before I pick up the letter again. Something is niggling in the back of my brain. Satisfactory. Why not ‘all clear’ or ‘cancer free’ The rational part of me supported by Petunia, says don’t be so pedantic.  This is good news, no further action, apart from annual oncology checks and continued hormone therapy for another 4 years. Negative Norma though, is going full on scanxiety. Why ‘just satisfactory’ ‘it’s been really painful a couple of times this week, is there something sinister going on’ it can be quite relentless and exhausting. It’s more in my nature to be positive but even for me sometimes it’s just hard. I say the right things to myself but sometimes it’s just challenging  

It’s been two years. If people ask me how I am, chances are, I will just say fine, going on well etc. it’s just easier and honestly I’m sick of hearing myself say it, so others must be too. Please don’t think I asking for you all to join my personal pity party. Saying it, is me trying to believe it.

The thing is, the after effects of cancer are pervading, just like the disease itself. Apart from the physical parts of me that are gone, it does feel like an essential little bit of me has gone too, or at least it’s hiding away. I guess this is the emotional scar, just as prominent and niggly as the physical scars.  I know I have a lot of work to do on acceptance. Not least accepting that whilst my treatment does have some unpleasant side effects, it’s doing a job of stopping the cancer returning or metastasing. I also know I have so much to be thankful for. An early diagnosis, prompt treatment, getting through a bout of Covid, a supportive workplace, a negative mammogram not forgetting amazing family and friends. 

So it’s time to embrace the new chubbier, wonkier, me. Sensible shoes, non wired bras, wobbly teeth, crumbly bones, grey hair and comfy clothes. To be accepting of what I am able to do rather than what I can’t. To ask for help when I need it and rest before my body forces me to. 

A phrase I see used a lot is:

You never know what someone is going through, so be kind.

Todays lesson for me is to really embrace that somewhat clichéd phrase but mostly to remember to apply it to myself. 

Footnote:

For any of my friends going through ‘stuff’ know that I will be here for you, if you need to offload just as many of you have been for me. It’s not a competition. We all struggle in different ways. A listening ear and some well intended, if ineffective platitudes followed by some gentle piss taking can be more powerful than any of us realise. Don’t suffer in silence. 

Annus Covidus

 I’m seeing lots of things in the media and on socials reflecting on the last twelve months. As I haven’t written for a while I thought I would jump on that theme so apologies if you are weary of such things. Also having been awake since 4:30, what else am I going to do that doesn’t involve involve disturbing him upstairs. (That’s Mrs Gail not god, although some might say he thinks he’s a god but that’s for another blog) 

12 months - it’s a landmark, a passage of time but also in many ways gone so quickly and so much has happened and changed.  It’s something I’ve touched on before in previous blogs (One year on and other anniversaries) Personally, I was in denial in the early stages of this pandemic. Prior to the first lockdown I thought it was being overplayed initially, some scaremongering. This wasn’t based on any fact or evidence,  just my feeling. This may have been due to my own personal circumstances which meant my focus was internal more than external but it just goes to show, what do I know. 😂

My personal lockdown had begun earlier due to my surgery and radiotherapy. In fact it turns out I was very lucky to have just completed my course of radiotherapy as restrictions started. Many have since had treatment delayed or postponed. I went from days alone on the sofa to having the company of the hubby, my daughter and her partner, all furloughed - not forgetting the cat. I do fear for her mental health once this is all over, where will be the package of support for pets being left alone all day again, I wonder, (usually in the early hours along with many other random ponderings)

I think many of us lucky enough not to have been personally impacted by Covid at that point, look back on those early heady days of lockdown with some fondness. It was all about the baking, the shopping, hand sanitiser, loo roll, banana bread, walks, board games and briefings. We were getting back to family values, it felt like a mini break. I don’t deny there was fear, uncertainty, loneliness but it was all new and a novelty. Then the reports of illnesses, the deaths, the financial and economical implications started to filter in. We all thought things would soon be back to normal, that this was a short sharp burst of pain to achieve a common goal. Working at home or new ways of working became the norm. For me, medical appointments all had to be done by phone. All rehab cancelled. Hindsight can be a wonderful thing but also a bit of a curveball. None of us can know if we would have done things differently if we had known and I think there are few amongst us who thought we would still be where we are now 12 months on.

I had my one year review yesterday with my oncologist and she commented how weird it is to be doing this over the phone having never met in the first place to discuss my treatment plan as this was done in a hasty telephone call as the NHS rushed to set up contingencies. Yes, some of my thoughts around that meeting have contributed to my insomnia but what can I do. We’ve all had to make changes and sacrifices to various degrees and of course it’s not a competition so saying there is always someone worse off than you isn’t always helpful. Your own circumstances are personal to you and you feel them deeply, others having a bad time doesn’t diminish your feelings but it can help you to count your blessings which we often forget to do. 

 My blessings are many. I got an early diagnosis and treatment. I locked down in a loving and safe environment with plenty of home comforts. I and all my family have so far remained employed even though on reduced income, we haven’t lost anyone to Covid, I can work from home in an separate space, I have some great friends and support networks. I’m not saying it’s been easy and I’m not saying it’s over yet but I’m here and I’m in for the long haul. 

I’m taking some time today for personal reflection but more importantly remembering all of those who have lost their lives to Covid-19 so far, all their families, friends and those who tried to treat them, all those suffering mentally, financially, anyone who has been negatively impacted. I will take time to send some positivity out into the universe for you all. I thank each and everyone of you who has been apart of my last year from close friends and family to randoms on Twitter. Remember to always try to be kind and to check in on someone today, it could make a big difference to them. 

January the 75th [or self-care is the new Friday]

 I made a bit of a conscious decision not to write a blog over the Christmas and New Year period. This was for a couple of reasons but mainly because there is so little going on that it’s tough finding something new to write about. It’s also hard to keep on trying to find the positives and you fear that people are fed up of you going on and that you may be adding to their struggle to stay positive and mentally well. 

So what’s changed you may be thinking. Well, I’ve had lots of conversations with different people over the last couple of weeks since returning to work after the festive break. Lots of people are struggling. Lots of people recognise there are people who are worse off than they are. Lots of people are keeping all this to themselves. Even me, someone who is happy sharing and has lots to say is feeling like maybe I should not say anything. Again I must stress when I write, it’s not because I am looking for people to feel sorry for me. I’m not looking sycophantic reassurance. Yes the ego  appreciates if people take time to read or comment but it’s not my driver  

I have to admit one of the things that has held me back recently is that I just feel most of what I’ve had to say for the last 14 months has been, perhaps a bit heavy. Yes I’ve tried to bring my coping mechanism of humour to it but I as someone who considers themselves to be and I quote ‘a glass full kind of person” I’ve got to say that has been getting harder and harder. I have felt that perhaps people are sick of me banging on and moaning and that I should get over it. 

Now, no one has actually said any of this to me. No, this has come from my inner critic, who from now on shall be known as, naggy Norma. I’m pretty sure you all know what I’m talking about. That little voice inside you who chips away at your confidence. Who tells you you’re not good enough, or strong enough, or clever enough. It tells you people aren’t interested in what you have to offer. Even worse it tells you things that people are thinking and saying about you. These things, your worst fears, silence you and repress you. I know this all sounds a bit dramatic but trust me Norma is a complete a-hole. She shouts down and tramples all over our inner cheerleader, hereafter mine shall be known as positive Petunia. Norma’s is the loudest voice. She will be heard and you give her an inch she will take a mile. Before you know it she will have persuaded you that can’t do it and people are laughing about you even thinking you could. Petunia will be left out in the cold, whispering into the abyss.  

I’ve found that from recent conversations, verbalising some of the things I’ve been feeling has been really helpful. Others have shared how they are feeling. Rather than dragging each other down, you are actually lifted up. It’s really helps to share and listen to others. It always feels a bit perverse to say that it is reassuring to know others are going through similar but it really is. It takes you out of your own head for a while. You support each other. It’s so much easier to give others advice and see that the inner critic is rife in them. On reflection, you realise your Norma has been on another rampage and in doing so you realise you need to apply this advice to yourself. You get Normas coat and have to throw a Petunia party. This can feel unnatural but trust me it’s essential. The conversations I’ve had recently have energised me in different ways. Things haven’t changed but how you look at them shifts slightly. 

Self-care is the lynch pin here. Because if you can’t care for yourself who else will. Ask Petunia what you could do to be kind to yourself. Have a cuppa, read a book, listen to music, go for a run, have a winge to a trusted friend who will listen then deride you until you laugh, watch some trashy tv or a documentary. You get the picture, whatever floats your boat. It might sound corny but write down one positive thing or one thing you are grateful for a day in the same way of doing one Petunia inspired thing. It could make a difference. 

Friday has traditionally been the day we look forward to. On Thursday my hubby will say, what have we got planned for the weekend? Do you want to go anywhere? Do anything? He asked me last week and I just looked at him. Then I thought, let’s plan something. We ordered a restaurant at home food box. We decided to get dressed up, have cocktails, have a music night. It gave us hope. Nothing had changed but our view and mood shifted imperceptibly. 

Don’t let Norma tell you any of this is indulgent, pointless or selfish. Don’t let her persuade you your time should be spent doing something more important. This is survival. So make you a priority. Plan it into your diary as you would an important meeting. Respect it like you would an big presentation or interview. Ask others to hold you to account over this. Most of all show yourself the kindness you would show others. 

One last thing if you are feeling alone and down, it’s easy to listen to Norma who will tell you you are pathetic and no one cares. She will tell you everyone has forgotten about you. But the things is they may have their own silent struggles. Be the one to make the call or send the text. You never know how the people you contact are feeling. You might be their lifeline too. Go on ask Petunia what to do. 

‘I lied and said I was busy.
I was busy;
but not in a way most people understand.

I was busy taking deeper breaths.
I was busy silencing irrational thoughts.
I was busy calming a racing heart.
I was busy telling myself I am okay.

Sometimes, this is my busy -
and I will not apologize for it.” 
― Brittin Oakman’