3 years.

Someone reminded me yesterday that it was my cancerversary. 3 years since my first diagnosis. I used to celebrate that, but since I’ve been diagnosed again, I’m unsure whether it’s  the right thing to do, I mean I’m not cancer free. Perhaps I should celebrate being alive for 3 years, but it’s been a long slog. I’m never going to say it’s not been worth it, it’s all been worth it, but living with cancer is very much like a year without much sunshine. Grey, dull, wet, depressing. You have to make the most of the short moments the sun does shine and bask in it. Be grateful for life every day. I struggle, but it’s something I aspire to be and I get better at it every day. 

I’ve said before that even though I don’t want to live with stage 4, for me living in limbo was often worse. Will it come back or won’t it? Will I get stage 4 or won’t I? Perhaps thinking about it so much was to my detriment, but can you blame me when younger women are far more likely to die of cancer and 30 percent of of will go on to stage 4 and even more will have recurrences? Yes, limbo is not a nice place to be. Even the strongest most positive people worry about cancer returning. It never completely leaves you. 


So I had my 2nd chemo yesterday successfully, no 8 in total. Wow! I’m having a port put in on my chest soon so I don’t have to have any cannulas. My veins are totally fucked up now, and I think 6 cannula attempts in 2 days is bordering on torture. Enough is enough.

After 3 chemos they will scan me to see if treatment is working. (So in around 4 weeks time). I’m desperate to know it’s working but at the same time petrified it’s not. Of course there are other treatments but it would just be nice to have success with this one, obviously the best and no. 1 choice. 

All I can do is close my eyes and visualise the drugs zapping those nasty cells; oh and keep smiling of course…

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