The last time I went on a proper holiday cancer came along too.
I’d booked a break to Egypt in 2013 for the 2nd time that year in May. I was diagnosed the week before I was due to fly out. I still went on holiday and tried to forget about it. I cut my hair very short and that was the last holiday I had real breasts. No implants or plastic or metal ports inside my body.
So this week is my first real holiday since 2013 except this time I’m going alone and cancers not coming with me. I have to pay a bloody damn sight more insurance and I’m praying my boobs don’t go off in the security scanner.
This trip marks the end of a rough 21 months. I don’t want to get to two years and still be so angry and so sad. Anyone who tells me I should be over it can fuck off to be blunt but I’ve decided 2 years is enough time to grieve and be unhappy and scared.
It’s time to accept not everyone will understand or appreciate what its like living with cancer but remember to hold on tightly to those that do understand and love and appreciate them
Hello America. I’m coming to cause some mischief!