Sometimes I wonder where I find the strength to keep going. That sounds corny I know. I certainly don’t think I’ve had it hard compared to some. But of course I naturally compare myself to my cancer friends who’ve had an easier time of things treatment wise. And then I compare to my non-cancer friends who haven’t had to go through the whole-am I going to die routine.
I had to have the cancer that was super agressive which required a year added on to my treatment. It had to be me who couldn’t just have a small chunk cut out I had to have the whole shebang surgery wise.
But you know what? None of that bothers me so much. I can deal with it all if only I could just move on and not be back in the waiting room again. It’s over 2 years now and if you’ll pardon my French I would just like to fucking be able to live my life away from hospitals and injections and scans.
Today I was so angry-filled with this rage inside of me. I suddenly realised its not because I’m frightened, it’s because I’m fed up. Totally and utterly fucked off with it all.
So I was sitting there in the waiting room raging inside, thinking I’m going to cry in a minute, when I looked across the room and saw a tiny child sitting with her dad. Her name was Lily. Lily was having a scan too accept unlike me, she was laughing and having fun oblivious to it all.
I suddenly thought to myself this little girl who’s only about 3 years old, isn’t sitting there feeling sorry for herself. She didn’t even have any hair, (but she looked beautiful in her pale blue headscarf all the same).
I thought, Shes probably spent most of her young life in and out of hospital. I’ve spent just 2.5 years of my 36 years in comparison.
Lily really opened my eyes. It sounds strange but it was almost as if she was my guardian angel for those precious minutes in the waiting room.
From now on whenever I feel like I can’t keep going, I will think of her and the day she saved me…