I took and then posted this photo to my Facebook page on the night of Monday 21st March. I had flown into Brussels early afternoon for a meeting and then after some thought I decided to come back that night on a late flight, although after a spot of dinner following the meeting booking a room and catching the first flight out in the morning seemed really quite appealing. I had a think and just told myself to stop being lazy and get on the flight. I would get home late but it would mean a more relaxed day on Tuesday as my first meeting wasn't until late morning.
I got home about 1.30 am and crashed out, at about 7 the next morning as I was making my first coffee my phone started beeping. I ignored it as anyone who wanted to talk work at that time could "go bollocks" as I so sweetly put it, well until I had at least had a coffee anyway. It kept beeping I kept ignoring it, then the Facebook notification sound started going and I thought "what is that all about, well it can wait..". I was making the kids breakfast and I turned the TV news on and I felt sick. "Explosions at Brussels airports...Terrorist Attacks....Baggage hall...Starbucks...". I couldn't believe it. Christ I was there yesterday, I go there a lot, those poor people, I hope no one is hurt, then realizing that people were, people had been killed and my heart just sank. Anger, sadness and relief. Relief. I'm sorry but I couldn't help it I felt relief. As I responded to everyone who had messaged me I thought "what if?", every time someone said "that was lucky" I knew they were right, and as the facts started to come out my feelings just increased. I had tears for those who were lost and tears that life is so cruel at times. I thought what about if I had decided to change my flights, I would of been in that part of the airport, at that time, would I have been affected? the chances are I probably would of been but I wasn't so it was pointless thinking that way. That didn't change things for the people who were though, those poor people who were and now wouldn't be going home to their loved ones again. I thought about how lucky I was, how those little decisions can affect life in such a big way, how sometimes the smallest margin is the difference between life and death. It took me back to feeling lucky about my diagnosis and treatment. Luck, lucky, good luck and bad luck. Was it bad luck I got cancer? What about good luck it was found and diagnosed early? It would be bad luck if it came back but looking at statistics would I be a lucky one at 5 years if I made it that far? Luck, luck, luck, was it really all about luck? Was Graham unlucky because his tumour was terminal, was that fate, why was it like that for him and why was I "lucky". Steve had a rare cancer, his had metastasized so he was worse off than me, 2 of my mates "unlucky" and me "lucky" how could it be that way? We all had kids so was it fair? This made me struggle, I wanted to speak to Graham but didn't know how to, I felt guilty about being curable and then NED, how could I speak to him about it? I felt guilty that Steve's cancer had spread and he had to face chemo, I hadn't, just radiotherapy and surgery, how could I offer him advice? This was explained to me as survivors guilt and I am told it is common among cancer survivors. It is the same feeling as I felt on that Tuesday morning, sadness for those who weren't as "lucky" as me but relief that it wasn't me and that those who love me still had me in their lives. This is where the guilt comes from, we feel we shouldn't be relieved that we survived and that because there are so many who are so much worse off than us, that could be us, we can't completely understand their feelings but we can imagine them because we have been so close to being them, because of that we feel we can't be happy that we have "made it" to NED. This feeling filled more than one of my therapy sessions, it was one of the key issues I was dealing with and I needed to process it before I could move on, my obsession with luck, with why, with if I would always be lucky. What if my luck ran out, how could I talk to people if it meant being with them meant they would hate me for surviving, how could I talk to someone who wasn't as lucky as me...? Therefore I couldn't be around people with cancer, if it was a 54% survival rate then if I met another person with sarcoma that meant one of us wouldn't be lucky and I would wish that it wasn't me. I obviously wouldn't wish it on them but I still didn't want it to be me, that meant I didn't want to meet other Sarcoma patients. the very people who truly knew how I felt and what I was going through I couldn't meet or talk to because of my issues and feelings centred around luck, luck a thing that would influence my life and future that I couldn't control and I have discussed that I struggle with that before. One sentence in one session still stays with me, one sentence that gave me a kick, one of the kicks I used way back then to start to come back to the world, it was this... "Would you REALLY want it to be you and that your kids, your loved ones didn't have you anymore, that you were terminal?" And my answer... "No, of course not." And in those 4 words I realised that I didn't wish it was me, of course I didn't, I wanted to live for me, for the ones I love, for the ones who love me, and I still do, everyday I still do. I can feel empathy for those who aren't as "lucky" but it's not my fault, I can talk to them because they understand as well, Graham did, he told me how happy he was for me and my family. Other patients who haven't been as "lucky" that I have met since show great strength in their fights but they also enjoy to hear the good news stories and for that they are truly inspirational. If they can be happy for me then I should be too. I can't feel guilty over luck, I don't control luck, if there is even such a thing as luck, I don't make the decisions for others or even myself, I can only live with what happens to me, with the decisions luck makes for me. I will always hope for good decisions and that's not selfish, that's just being human, that is just being a survivor.
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Darren EvansOn Feb 11th 2013 my life changed forever when I was diagnosed with a myxoid liposarcoma of the right thigh. This is my version of my life since then. Archives
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