Dear Cancer, I feel I should express how I feel to you and being as the pen is mightier than the sword and because of you I don’t think I could even lift a sword at the moment, I decided a letter would be a good place to start.
I should get my results next week and I’m hoping our acquaintance will come to a final and abrupt end. I don’t want to keep in touch and I’m not one for bullies. But… just because you’re gone and I’m cancer free doesn’t mean I’m free of fear. It means my eyes are now open to the new me. The me that holds hands with hope and fear in equal measure.
The me that can appreciate the calm in the chaos and know its value. The me that thinks every new tweak is now something sinister.
I am equally scared and elated and know that my battle isn’t over.
All clear will not wash away the tears. It won’t undo the scars and the trauma my body is going through. It won’t protect my head from the 3am scaries as I like to call them. When I think I’m dying, so I check my pulse a 100 times, or I silently cry because I feel lonely or I relive every single step of this journey you’ve put me on.
People think I’m brave, I’m strong, I fight. I do not get a choice I have to do this. You are a school yard bully who has decided to attack me. Even though it’s early in your attack, which by the way means Jack shit when you are in this. You’ve still taken my calm, my carefree, My safety and smile. Even worse, people think early means walk in the park. You and I both know that’s not the case! Your power is there and you take, take, take.
I know I have to move forward, I have to get to know the new me both body and mind and I have to accept you as part of my life. I am not the same person coming out who went in. I have a new friend you introduced me to-trauma. Let me tell you I’ve had trauma before, but you’re not privy to that. It’s not yours to hear about. Your trauma is A life changing diagnosis, a breast that’s now not. Scars that run deeper than my flesh and fear.
I think in some ways I’m just as scared about hearing it’s all done. You’ve gone. ‘You’re all clear’- as that’s when people think you’re better. You’re fixed, it’s in the rear view. Pop the champagne and start cracking on with life. Get back to being you.
Your presence has been lonely at times, it’s been laughs and giggles on the beach with friends at others. It’s been sleepless nights and regretted anger at my husband. It’s been understanding the value of my friendships and family and learning to accept.
It’s been a shining light on all that’s important in the world and to me and a great lesson in patience.
Good bye my adversary. These are the words I want to say on Thursday. You have broken my body, you’ve tormented my mind but one thing you’ve never done and never could. You’ve never taken my love, my compassion, my spirit or my determination.
I will not allow you to take these. I will not allow you space that makes me a worse human.
You may think you have won this battle but remember, every step-I made the choice. Every appointment I was scared to attend- I attended, every scan I had to have - I had and every surgery I continue to face I will face.
I didn’t choose to be bullied by you but I have chosen to show up for me and so have my people and my friends. Who’s on your side, who is there for you and so who actually is winning?
You will haunt me, you will continue to hurt me, but just for a while. Then I will grow, I will find my new me and I will be kinder, I will help protect others and I will be happy.
So farewell my old friend. You’ve taught me much and I’m only allowing you to take just a little. Know that and know one day I won’t think of you again.
