When was the last time you rubbed a part of your own body? Behave yourself this is a serious blog.... For me it was my leg and it was about 4 minutes ago and that was probably the 10th time I did that today. 10 times? you ask, yes 10 times, at least once an hour and always the same way. I put my hand on the top of my thigh at the edge of "the dip" and slide it towards my knee. Open hand to cover the entire site of the dip, middle finger runs along the scar towards the burst blood vessels from the radiotherapy. Once it goes up the other side of the dip until the heel of my hand is out of the dip then I come back slowly, it's still numb and hard up the scar line apart from when I put it in a certain position and then it get's soft and I can really knead it to see if there are any deep lumps!!
Not as often but at least twice a day I check my groin as well, fingers in deep to check my lymph nodes, both sides, top to bottom. I check my stomach most mornings too, I lay flat in bed before I get up and push my fingers into the places the doctor does when I have a check up. Now you may think I'm not telling the truth, everyday? you may ask and my answer is.....Yes, everyday is the same, everyday I check. If I could check my own lungs everyday I would, if there was a weird and wonderful way for me to do it, even if it caused me intense pain or made me look stupid I would do it. In a heartbeat. And I've been doing this since I first went into remission. In fact I've just checked my leg as I wrote this, I noticed as I finished doing it. This habit started in the build up to my first 3 month check, after I was discharged I think I missed the security blanket of the hospital and treatment, I don't think I'm alone in that feeling either. I have spoken to a few people and when they first get into remission they miss not having that security around them, they see things or feel things wrong with their bodies as they adjust to life after treatment. I have never been to a group meeting of Sarcoma survivors or patients but I imagine it full of people rubbing parts of their bodies. What's strange is that I don't even know I'm doing it anymore, the first I know is when I'm told stop rubbing your leg, I guess it's like a tic now, just a subconscious movement that happens! I've talked previously about scanxiety and how I deal with it, or not as is really the case, so I wont really go into to much detail again but the build up to my first check up was a real mixture of fear and excitement, I switched between one and the other at the drop of a hat, almost minute by minute at times, I was desperate to go but scared of what they would say. As it got closer I also noticed me going further into myself and putting distance between myself and others. I was irritable and my concentration was also really affected. For the week before the appointment I didn't really work, I opened my laptop, I read my emails but I couldn't process them mentally, I answered the phone but didn't really speak to anyone. The office staff had been warned by my boss that I would struggle, I had told him, and they were brilliant they allowed me to work through it, one always asked how I was each day, always the same question "You ok?" and always the same answer "Yeah, muddling through" and then chin up became the motto and the way our conversations always ended "chin up, bye". I didn't really speak to them in too much detail I still couldn't speak to anyone in depth but "chin up" remains even to this day. We went to Centerparcs on the Saturday and Sunday before the check on the Monday, it was my eldest son's birthday and he loves the place, all my kids do, I think it's the swimming pool! That weekend I was not good, I tried to put a version of my work face on as the family didn't want me miserable, they didn't want me moping I needed to be happy to be celebrating my son's birthday and I was on the outside, it was inside I was struggling. I was rubbing my leg almost constantly and I mean constantly, I was doing it 15 - 20 times an hour, it was ridiculous but I couldn't stop. On the Saturday I had been in the pool with the eldest two all day and my asthma flared up, I knew it was asthma but that part of my brain started up again!! It's a met, that's what the problem is, that's why it's bad, that's why the inhaler doesn't work, etc.. etc.. Then the Sunday night I just sat and watched TV, I've said it before that's part of my routine, still is, always will be I'm sure. I'm back again in a couple of weeks and I know already that Sunday night is shit TV night!! I built myself up that night to accept the bad news, I was convinced so I was ready to accept it, to go again, to fight that's what I had to do, I really was ready. The actual check up was as I described before, the start of the routine that I know and have now, the x-ray, the wait, the room, the wait, the results and the relief. What I did do at the end of the check up was speak to Nicola, I told her how I had been, I told her I was struggling to cope and that I was convinced it was coming back, I didn't tell her exactly how bad and how black my thoughts were, I still didn't want anyone to know, she offered me counselling I refused but I did accept when she said she would speak to the people at Maggie's and see what they would suggest. I accepted because I wanted to find a way out of my hole without anyone knowing I was in it, I thought I could get through it and no one would ever know. They say hindsight is a wonderful thing, that's true. If I had known how bad it would get I would of taken any help at all, anything, anywhere, anytime, from anyone.
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So I was back at work and if I'm honest it helped in so much that it gave me another routine, well as much as my job could give me a routine, and it kept my brain busy. My boss had sat me down and said to just do what I could, that lasted about 10 minutes! I went back into it the same way I always did, full on. After a week I was stood on a stand at a seminar in Cardiff feeling really uncomfortable because I had a suit and shoes on for the first time in months. I actually enjoyed being back, I was exhausted at the end of each of day, I mean physically and mentally exhausted, exhausted to the point of feeling sick but the normality was becoming soothing.
The first week was difficult when people asked me about my illness but I had developed some "stock" answers to any questions and I just said them automatically to whatever question I thought it suited. "It was a soft tissue cancer, yeah in my leg, no not sure how it got there" "I had to have some radiotherapy and surgery, they cut a bit of my leg away" "yeah its all gone now, yes I'm all clear, yeah I'm glad it's over" "yes it's good to be back at work, yeah I'm all good now" I never went any deeper than those answers, never discussed anything, it was like being back in the Army. Number, Rank, Name, Date of Birth. A mantra, a protection from having to talk too much, to talk feelings, it was easier to just give enough facts to be polite and let people think I was being open whilst at the same time blanking it from my mind and pushing it back down. After a couple of weeks the questions slowed down and after a month it was like I had never been away, the questions stopped and work just went on as normal. At work so did I, I had my work face, my work persona, my work attitude, everything was normal. I had a visit from the occupational therapist after about a month and she asked me about my job, what I did, how I travelled, just general stuff really. She watched me walk up and down some stairs, assessed how I moved and said that was all she needed she would say I was fit to return officially but the company would have to make some allowances for me. They had to allow me to travel by train if I was tired or my leg hurt, they had to provide me with a wheeled case, allow me rest periods as I built my strength back and most importantly gave me a return to work plan which allowed a phased return. If I'm honest it wasn't really phased, people still emailed and called on my rest days, they still asked "could I just?"," Would I be able to?" I didn't mind, it kept me active, I wanted to be active and to have my brain focused on something so I did what they asked. If I got really tired I had a rest, I turned my laptop off, but I had to be exhausted to do that, I didn't want to let the "back to normal" face slip, I didn't want anyone to see what was going on underneath. It was the old duck on the water analogy, on the surface I was fine, just swimming along, underneath I was going like crazy, thoughts, feelings, panic, worry and dread. I struggled most when I was driving or travelling alone. If I was in a hotel for the night that was awful, I would look for something to do, I couldn't relax, alone my head just went in every direction it wanted. I could never sleep in a hotel, I would spend all night pacing and then be exhausted the next day, I just wasn't resting. I let the face slip once, just once. I had to attend the annual pension day briefing at head office. People at work did look at me differently now, some avoided me and the conversation about illness but one did speak to me, tried to help me, get me past it and back into normal thoughts. That helped, just asking "you ok today?" helped, "how you feeling?" was enough to get me talking a bit about the pressures of being back at work, what I was feeling about it, it was enough just to start to help with the pressure on my shoulders pushing me down. So back to the slip, the pensions advisor was talking about how we "needed to consider our future and what we needed to retire on", "how would we feel at 65 with nothing?" I wasn't actually listening to him, I was daydreaming, thinking about my life, thinking "well some of us will just be happy to get to 65" and then it came out. "What about if we don't make it, I'm probably not going to, so why should I have to save for it, I want to enjoy my life now" I can still feel the sneer on my face as I said it. I was being a dick and I knew it, he looked at me a bit shocked and confused and I just put my head back down and went back to playing on my phone. I still don't know why I did it, well that's a lie I do. All these people were talking about getting old, about retiring and I didn't think I would. The odds are that there is a good chance I won't so why should I have to listen to all these w**kers talking about it. I wanted to lash out and let them know how I was feeling, to let someone see I was hurting. People looked embarrassed, they didn't know what to say, they looked at me and pretended I hadn't said anything. One person looked at me and could see the turmoil I was in, they spoke to me afterwards and asked me. I shut them out and work face came back on, I was fine it wasn't a problem, I was just dicking about. My eyes said something else and they kept pressing, kept asking and I told them, I told them how I felt and that sort of opened a gate, I could talk a bit now, not a lot but a bit. I wanted to tell people everything, but I wouldn't, if I asked for help I wasn't better, it was beating me still and I refused to be beaten by it. The problem was that the more I fought and tried to fight alone the more it was beating me, I had started to hate being alone, it scared me, my mine wasn't strong enough but I had to be alone a lot for work what could I do? I didn't tell anyone as I didn't want them to think I wasn't coping, I was supposed to be happy and living my life to the full not worrying that my life was over and it was just a case of waiting for it to come back, all these other cancer survivors were so strong, it didn't bother them, I thought, I know differently now but back then...... Maybe when I got to my first check at 3 months I would be better, that's what I kept telling myself, when you get there it will be over, it will prove to you that you are going to get better. Just get to 3 months Daz and it'll be better you can look to the future then. Who was I kidding, definitely not myself, my descent was continuing and picking up speed, I had my work face on to the world but couldn't look myself in the mirror. I hate liars and I was lying to myself, I was telling myself that I was ok and I most definitely was not. I've been writing some more on my story but it deals a lot with my descent into my darkest days and my battle with anxiety and if I'm honest, well I am here it's my blog I have to be, I'm struggling to write it at the minute as I'm in such a good place these days, well most days anyway! I recorded the film Invictus the other night, ITV were showing it because of the rugby world cup I guess and I started watching it again tonight. I love the film, I love sport, I love rugby so it sort of ticks all the boxes with me. The one thing I really love though is the poem the film gets it title from , it's apparently the one Mandela read whilst on Robbin Island and the first time I read it something about it struck a chord with me and I had the last two lines tattooed on my foot. If you don't know it here it is..
Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds, and shall find, me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll. I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul. by William Ernest Henley I have never studied the poem or what it is supposed to mean to me, I read it and looked for my own meaning as that is what I have always done with poetry, so if I have misunderstood it or got it completely different from the accepted meaning I'm sorry but this is what it means to me. I had always lived like that, no matter what life or fate dealt or indeed had in store for me I had stood chin up chest out and faced it, it never broke me, it never made my hide. This isn't the time or place for my back story, maybe one day but not today, I will say life has not been easy but my troubles may pale into insignificance next to yours or you may hear mine and say "f**king hell" and that belittles neither of them because they are ours. What I am saying is that no matter what life had thrown at me before I had taken it, taken it and dealt with it, dealt with it without so much as flinching, I never let it consume me or affect me to a point I couldn't deal with it. Yes I had suffered grief and sadness, anger and frustration but I controlled them and used them to deal with what had happened. I had never really had a fear of death either, I knew I would die one day of course but it was never something I considered. Even as a soldier death wasn't a fear, it was something that could happen but by not thinking about it you can cope with it, well at that time I could. I lived a life that was there to be lived, experienced and loved. Death was not a part of that life, yes I had buried friends but that fear of death just wasn't there, why would it be, I had never had to face it on a personal level and by that I mean I never had to face my own death so why would I know that fear. For a long time Sarcoma took that part of me away, it made those things control me and the more it did the more helpless I felt. The more helpless I felt the less I wanted to talk about it and as such the more it controlled me. When I finally spoke it started to lose it's control over me, then I realized the more I talked the more it lost it's control. I really believe that if I had talked about it sooner, if I had discussed my fears and feelings that maybe I wouldn't have had to go so low before I started my journey back. Without sounding patronizing if you are suffering in the same way please speak to someone, there is always someone to talk to, and if you really haven't then I'll talk to you, no matter how small the fear, talk about it, that will help, really, talking helps. I read the poem again tonight and now I see cancer in the lines and words. I see the fear, the despair, the bad luck of getting cancer. The fear is that of the eternal darkness, that fear I'm sorry can only be felt if you have had to seriously consider your death, to think of your mortality in the context that it may soon be ending. It talks to me of that fear pushing you, weighing on you, squeezing you and knowing that it's there. Getting cancer is circumstance, yes there are things that will increase your chances but getting it is just luck, yes bad luck but just luck. You can only control how you react and how you deal with it. We, and by we I mean cancer patients have all at times in our fight probably felt that fear, we have probably all felt that we cant go on, we have probably all wept in fear and frustration but we have definitely all faced those feelings and gotten through them in the end. Again I can't speak for people who are terminally ill because I haven't been there but the people I have met who are dealing that have been the most determined people I have met to face it square on, to fight their fear and it's those who have been the most inspirational to me as I fought back. In these lines I also see the strength and determination that cancer patients have, that inner strength, that refusal to give up and an ability to just keep going. I may have struggled at times but even I had that desire to win during treatment. I have spoken with and read the stories of people who faced with unconquerable odds, stood up, looked cancer in the eye and told it to f**k off. They would not and will not be beaten by this disease and I admired them and they helped me to find my way back to how I was before my diagnosis, to where I am now. If you haven't before please go to http://sarcomastories.org.uk/ the stories and the courage in those stories are a true inspiration, a demonstration of that ability to remain strong in spirit in the face of Sarcoma. The last two lines of the poem before my diagnosis to me meant that I would be the one to determine my future, I would chose how I would live my life and the decisions made would be mine and mine alone. They mean something quite different to me now. I know now that I no longer control my fate, Sarcoma does, in fact myxoid liposarcoma does, it controls the rest of my life. It will decided if, when or where it will return in my body. I can't do anything about that now. I can try and live a healthy balanced life, I can make sure I attend my check ups but if it is coming back it's not me that will decide it so I can't control my fate. I can though still be the captain of my soul. Sarcoma can't change my soul and it can't change me, it can't change the love I feel, the dreams I have or the thoughts in my mind. These are the things that make up my soul and I am still in charge of them and I always will be. Yes I still have days when the fear and the feeling of helplessness return but remembering that I am the captain of my soul and I can choose how I feel and how I face my life means that it will never beat me no matter what the future holds. I may not be the master of my fate but I will always be the captain of my soul. So there I was officially cancer free and in remission, it was time for me to put all this behind me, look to the future with a new positive outlook on life and never think about cancer again. It was official my life was back to normal. Yeah ok, if only it had been that easy!
I managed to start just as I was supposed to, I was positive, I had a second chance at life, life was for living, I was going to savour every moment and seize the day. I really believed that and wanted it to be the case, there was still one problem, I still couldn't talk about cancer. I still had a lot of feelings and worries that were bottled up inside and they were just there, brewing, every now and then coming to the surface and then I would push them back down again. I would still change the TV channel if an advert for Macmillan or Cancer Research came on, and at the time there was a storyline in Coronation Street about a character who was dying of cancer. I watched about 2 minutes of one episode and this character was talking about the fear they felt and the guilt of leaving people behind, this hit me like a train, it sucked the wind out of me and sent me into a panic. This person was talking about the things in my head, it was what I was thinking and I didn't want to, I left the room and would never be in the room when it was on, I couldn't watch that, I mean if my cancer came back that could be me. It was difficult because everyone I saw and spoke with, all the family, all my friends all said the same thing "You must be so pleased it's over", "Wow you've beaten it, I knew you would, you are going to live life to the full I guess now", "so pleased that your better Darren, you must be happy now". I desperately wanted to feel like that, to just forget it but it was still lurking, hanging around in my mind and fear would still get me. Fear of a reoccurrence, fear of a fatal reoccurrence. I started to wish time past, I wanted to travel 10 years into the future, to survival, true survival. The physical side of it was also still a problem, I was still sore and numb, I couldn't walk long distances. Christ I was still struggling to get my socks on, when I actually wore them anyway, but overall I was feeling like with a bit more time I could get enough strength into my leg to get me back into work mode and maybe that would help me get back to myself. I called my boss and said that I was still having physio but I was going to turn my laptop on and have a look at my emails. I was thinking about setting a return date but as I was currently still signed off for the next couple of months I would let them know as soon as I had a plan. I said I wouldn't respond to any emails but I just wanted to get a feel of what was going on in the company after the restructure and see what I'd missed. He was happy with that and said he would pass the message around that I was on the mend and would maybe be in touch with people soon. The next morning I got up showered, took my laptop out my work bag, plugged it in and turned it on. I opened outlook and watched as it said just how much needed to be updated in my inbox. 4 hours later there were over 3000 emails in there and I just sat there looking at them wondering where to start. For the next 3 days I just sat opening, scan reading and deleting the junk. Every now and then I came across a message from a customer wishing me good luck and that they were hoping I would be back soon and that lifted me and made me smile. As I was getting towards the end of them I was watching the new ones coming in, they were mainly junk at this point as everyone had stopped sending me business ones as they knew I was off. Then I saw one, it was from the UK human resources manager and it simply said: Darren, You have now been off 6 months and as such your wages will stop on Monday and you must now claim statutory sick pay. Regards..... That was it! The sum total of the message was one sentence, no hello, no I hope you are well, no how are things. It was cold and left me feeling sick, I now had to make a decision and make it quickly. Actually there was no decision to make, I couldn't afford to not be paid, I could not house and feed my family on SSP, I had to go back to work, I didn't know if I was physically or mentally ready but I had no choice, I couldn't be without money. I phoned my boss and told him about the email and then I said "I'll be back to work on Monday". "What? Monday? You can't come back Monday, we have to do an assessment on you, see what you can do, see what we need to do, Monday is too soon". Well to me that was their problem I would be back on Monday and we would have to see then what I could and couldn't do. I was actually really quite angry and upset by it all, I had been through enough and still wasn't physically or mentally right but now I had the pressure of having no choice but to go back to work. If I'm honest it all felt really cold and tactless by the company. This was the first time that the "well it's all gone now so everything is fine, just get back to normal and forget it" attitude of people who have never been in the position of having cancer really got to me. Now don't get me wrong, I was in remission and there are hundreds, well thousands of people who aren't ever that lucky and I would never say I know how they feel or think so I can't comment on that. But for me this new pressure was a load going back on to me, it felt like the relief I had experienced just a couple of weeks before was being replaced with pressure again, I was going back under and I couldn't do anything because if I didn't go back now the kids didn't eat. How could I get back in the car? How could I go back onto a building site? What I tried to do was think differently, "yes but you're back at work, you are back to normal, you can stop thinking about cancer, you can plan the rest of your life". The only problem was that I couldn't, I couldn't stop worrying, the worry of it coming back was starting to consume me, I had convinced myself, it was the old story of if my own head is saying it well it must be true. As this built up in me I knew that I wasn't ready to go back to work but I had no choice, they were going to stop paying me so it was back to work or no food on the table. I started back to work the following Monday, I went into the office for a quick chat about what I was going to do to get back into it and was informed that I definitely needed an assessment from an occupational therapist before I could work again! It was agreed I would work from home until then just dealing with customers on the phone and by email, if it got too much I would take a break but I should try and do what I could. I had cleared my emails so it was time to make the first phone call, I really didn't want to do it, the first thing they would ask me would be about cancer, I knew it would, it was obvious and I really didn't want to talk about it. Ok, I'm dialing now, it's ringing, and then Dave picked up. "Hello Mate, god it's good to hear you're back, so tell me about it, are you ok now?" As I started to speak the words were sticking in my throat, I did not want to answer, I didn't want to talk about cancer, I would rather talk about anything but that, but I had no choice and every time I tried to keep it brief more questions followed and the answers became more brief. It wasn't his fault but I got off the phone as quickly as I could and then I sat there, shaking and in a world of thoughts. Everybody told me and expected me to be over this now, to be positive and to get on with my life, to stop worrying about cancer and be happy because I had beat it. How could I turn to them and say I hadn't beaten anything, the threat was still there, I had to have check ups for the next 10 years, that's not beating it, I had won a battle but the war would go on for 10 years, 10 years until I was a survivor? How could I tell them that I was locking myself in the bathroom when the panic got too much, or that I didn't want to speak to customers, the main part of my job, because I didn't want to talk about cancer. No one would understand because to them I had beaten it, I no longer had anything to worry about. I've been working on and writing some more of my story recently but the reality of life, work and commitments has slowed me down as I've juggled what I have to do and what I want to do. This was always the normality that I craved during treatment and immediately after, I've had some reminders that I had once had a Sarcoma but they will be talked about later as part of my story but really I've just been incredibly busy, with loads on my mind and Sarcoma or Cancer wasn't always part of those thoughts recently. In this time I've also been reading through some posts and stories on a Sarcoma Facebook group to which I belong, speaking in messages to Steve about support groups and also to a couple others who I won't name but sincerely hope our chats have helped a little. Today is also 9/11, a day that always makes me consider life, love and loss, a day that thousands said goodbye to their loved ones not knowing it would be the last time. All this has led to a little collection of thoughts in my head and with the assisted dying vote that was held today these thoughts have been nagging at me to be written down, to get out of my head and see if I can process them a little easier when I write them and not just think about them. I'm going to start this collection with a video that appeared on one of my social media timelines this week, I really hope they don't mind me sharing it here just as I did on my Facebook page. I was going to say you may not have a Facebook page or be a member of a Sarcoma group so may not have seen this one but the chances are you do at least have a Facebook page, you are reading a blog so why wouldn't you have a Facebook page!! You may not be a member of a support group on there though, I mean I only joined a group last month, and that's after 2 years in remission. I want to put it here because if you haven't seen it you should, this is a story that needs sharing. This video and the stories of others I've read have made me realize how lucky I was with my diagnosis, I thought I had suffered a large tumour but when I read and hear some stories mine was small in comparison, absolutely tiny. Now that to me though doesn't lessen my story or my feelings because they are mine, they were my journey and that journey has brought me happiness and sadness, it has created the person I am now and it was the journey that scares me still. But when I read those stories of tumours the size of melons, of reoccurrences, of people losing limbs or the inoperable tumours and the loss of loved ones my heart feels for all of them, it feels for everyone who has been touched by this disease because I believe you can only sympathise if you have never joined the "cancer club" you can't empathise because you will never know how it feels to have cancer until someone tells you that you have it.
This also brings me on to the assisted dying debate and vote that was held today, I say this again now, I do not know how it feels to be living and knowing for definite that you only have limited time left in this life and I am so incredibly grateful for that. I can sort of imagine because I have had those worries as I journeyed through diagnosis and treatment, but I have never been told it's inoperable or that I am terminal so I can't say I can speak for those people I can only offer my thoughts from my experiences. I always thought that my desire to live would see me through to the very end, it was the thought of leaving my loved ones behind that created my mental health issues and if I'm honest that thought and fear is still the one that crushes me if I dwell on it for too long. Since my friend died though I have been thinking of what someone who had seen him close to the end told me, "he has said he is ready to go Daz", was what they said and then I could see maybe why he had come to that. He was in pain, he slept a lot and he knew his time was coming, I guess he couldn't face going on like that anymore. He had always wanted to keep going but I guess in the very end as it got worse and he knew what was to come he made his peace. This is why I can't understand why the politicians get to decide and not the person about this very important and personal decision, how can someone who has never been in that position be the right person to decide what is right? If you have never been told you have a terminal illness you can't decide what is right for the person that has. Yes we can campaign for better standards of care for terminal patients, but lets be honest we shouldn't have to campaign for that it should be the norm. If that person decides they have made their peace with their loved ones, family, friends and their life they should be allowed to make what will be their last decision. If a person wants to decide to fight until they get to the end that is their choice and if a person decides that they can't fight what is a battle that is already lost anymore then that is there choice as well. I pray that I never have to make that choice and "touch wood" as they say I haven't even had to consider a second bout of the disease but if I had to I still don't know what I would think or decide because I haven't ever been there, I like to think I would give it all I've got to the end but that doesn't mean I can't sympathise and understand with those that can't. I hope this bill gets another reading and vote, a nation and it's people are judged on how they treat their ill and those that can't help themselves, what did today say about us? Lastly today is 9/11. 14 years ago I was a soldier on what was my last operational tour. I was in Macedonia on Task Force Harvest, a weapons collection programme and amnesty to stop the trouble there developing further and leading to what could of become another Bosnia. I had been out working all morning and as we got back to base someone came running over saying that a plane had hit the twin towers. We went and sat in front of our one TV, pretty much the whole squadron did and we watched as it unfolded. We already knew deep down that some of us would be off to fight another battle, not me I had only a little time left in the army, but those sat around me almost definitely would. I still shudder when I watch it now, all those people, the ones who didn't know before they died, the ones who knew they would die, the ones who decided to jump instead of, well just instead of. I hope they are all sleeping well with dreams of nothing but good memories but it also takes me to something I wrote earlier in this blog. That goodbye you have just said, that kiss you have just given, that hug that made you feel warm or maybe that angry word you have just spoken may be the last time that person is in your life. If you love them don't let an angry word be the thing you both remember as the last thing, let it be a hug, a kiss or an I love you. I'm sorry if this chapter is a bit preachy or maybe you disagree with something I have written here but as the bio says, I'm no expert, just an ordinary bloke trying to make sense of his thoughts. As always I'd love to hear from you or discuss anything written here, and of course thanks for reading and I promise to get back to my story soon! |
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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