I've digressed a lot recently from the story of how I got from diagnosis to here because I've been having a bit of a bad time. I'm really swinging from high to low and at times I feel like I'm losing it and then other times think that I can take on the world. I've thought that maybe going back to the story, as that is what the reason for this blog was may help me to find some more positivity.
2014 from my 6 month check through to the 12 month one was a period a lot like the one I find myself in now. My mood swings were severe at times, I managed them as best I could with CBT and mindfulness and I found myself opening up to some people and talking bit more on the emotional side of my journey. It wasn't many people who knew that I was struggling when I was because most people just didn't expect me to be. After 6 months people were starting to forget I had been through cancer, it was just something that had happened in the past, I shouldn't worry about it now, I shouldn't even be thinking about it, forget it, move on. That was the problem, there were times I couldn't, there are times now I still can't, but most people just couldn't understand that so how could I tell them that I still had days where I was gripped with fear and had to use all my strength to get through those days? I couldn't so I just kept pretending they were not happening whilst only telling those closest to me they were still happening but I was fighting them. They were getting fewer, most definitely, I didn't have them as much but the level of fear when they came was still incapacitating. I was going weeks at a time without one and then it would hit and it would take me 2 or 3 days to get fully out if it. I did start to find some joy in life again though, I started to feel that I would have a future properly, I was still unsure on how long it would be but I definitely felt like I would be having one. I was helping Steve through his treatment and finding some humour in the darkest times which was a very strange experience, to laugh at cancer felt wrong, it felt like we were tempting fate but we did it anyway, the Chilwell Cancer Survivors Club was trying to tell cancer to f**k off. Love and feeling loved wasn't scaring me either, I didn't want to push away, to make a distance between myself and those that loved me, it was feeling loved that kept me opening up, little by little, feeling secure was making me concentrate on the future more, it was giving me strength to use the CBT and face the fear when it arose. When I was struggling to sleep at night because of thinking about cancer I would think about the faces and smiles of those I loved, of my desire to live a long life with them, a happy life, a full life. 12 months and a whole year in remission soon started to come around and was the point of one of the things I regret the most in this journey, the embarrassment makes me cringe even now! I had built my 12 month check up in my head to huge proportions, I was convinced that it was going to be now that it would give me a kicking, that I would get to 12 months and start to feel secure and then cancer would start to fight back, it would win it's next battle with me. I guess it was because I had started to turn a corner, I was having good days, I did think about the future, did I actually deserve to think that way? By the time I had got to the hospital that day I was worse than a coiled spring, I was ready to explode, I was so convinced it would be bad news I was angry. Angry at myself for believing I could think of the future, angry at cancer for ruining my life, angry at the fact I was helpless about controlling if it did come back. I had booked in and was sat in the waiting area, foot tapping, deep breathing, hands wringing and clapping, swearing and muttering under my breath. "Hello!!" was what I heard, that friendly, familiar voice that had got me through so much, it was Nicola. Now these next thoughts happened in literally the blink of an eye, I mean less than 2 seconds, you have to understand that because then you may understand why. In my head when I saw Nicola my head went "what's Nic here for, she isn't normally here for oncology appointments, she only ever does plastics clinics, it's bad news, it's got to be bad news, she is here because they need her to be here when they tell me it's back, she is here to help me, she is here to support me, yep its bad news, I can't believe it after all this time it's back and it's going to kill me." What came out of my mouth was "What the f**king hell are you doing here?" When I got into the room I couldn't apologise enough, I was horrified at what I had said, I kept apologising over and over. Nicola was Nicola, she told me no to worry, she wasn't upset by it, she understood why I was like it. That didn't help me feel better because I was so embarrassed that I had said that and spoke to someone like that who had always been great with me. They gave me the news that I was still in remission and I was overjoyed, I was overjoyed that I had made 1 year. I was still gutted by what I had said but she gave me a cuddle and sent me home, told me to relax I had got to 12 months, it was a big step, I had made 12 months. I got home that evening and started to cook dinner, I was starting to experience the familiar crashing feeling as my body started to relax for the first time in a week, my mind was wondering, my body was slumping and then I cut the tip of my thumb off!! Not a lot of it but enough blood to make me wobbly after no food and sleep for days. It was off back to hospital and some stitches to put it right. As I was sat telling the nurse what had happened and what my day had been like she looked at me and smiled. She said "you must be so happy, to have got to a year, a whole year in remission is a big thing, I can see why your mind was wandering" and it made me think. I had got to a milestone and I had got through it. I had done 12 months NED, in remission, beating cancer, I should keep looking at that future, planning for it, seeing it in my mind as I went to sleep. I did and I do, it opened me up a little more, it pushed me a little further, it started the road to this blog. It was another step on the journey back, that journey that doesn't end but does get clearer, that does get easier..
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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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