Life after cancer

This morning I was sent this interesting short article about life after cancer -

http://news.sky.com/story/cancer-survivors-say-life-after-illness-is-tougher-than-treatment-10988948

It was sent with the best intention, to make me realise "it's perfectly normal" to feel the way I do. Dammit. I thought I'd done really well at staying positive and hiding the fact I'm absolutely miserable sometimes. Not all the time, but the sadness hits as hard as the exhaustion when it comes. And it's even more sad to think that someone noticed.

I started back at work yesterday after just over 5 months off. It's time to get back to normality - have a bit of routine, be around people and of course earn some money! It was all fine and much better than I had built up in my head, but I came home feeling really sad about it. I think because I'd been treated exactly the same as I had before. Which in my head, was exactly what I wanted. I don't want sympathy or sad head tilts when people ask how I am, and I certainly don't want to be given any special kind of treatment. But reading this article and crying about it in the shower until I was pruney this morning made me think about why I was feeling sad in general.

And it's because I can't get back to my version of 'normal', because I'm not the same as I was before.

I might look it (albeit a little rounder!) and I might have the same personality. I might do the same job and have the same interests, have the same sense of humour and tastes in food. I might still worry about what to wear each morning, and crave the same amount of cups of tea during the day.

But I'm not the same person. I am changed in all manner of ways - physically, emotionally, mentally. My life is different now. My mortality has been shoved in front of my chubby moon face and I'm going to have to change the path I take to reach the same goals I had before (cheesy!). And all of these changes are not my choice. Not my doing.

And I would never expect my work colleagues or my friends and family to change how they are around me because of this. Again, I absolutely wouldn't want that! But reading this article made me see that I'm not alone in feeling that I'm having to battle all this stuff on my own after being given a cheery cheerio from the NHS. And there have been a few things have helped me feel this way...

I've been waiting for a call from the Macmillan nurse at Worthing hospital who couldn't make my follow up appointment, to discuss dilators. This is the same nurse who told me that I wasn't under her care any more when I went over to Brighton, but then no one gave me any details for who I should speak to instead. And the dilators are important to make sure my froo froo doesn't heal over on itself. But I don't want to call her because she basically told me I shouldn't. And now I'm really annoyed because it's quite an important conversation that I shouldn't have to be chasing.

I did, however, receive a call from the MRI department last week saying they had a last minute cancellation and could I come in the following day for a scan. I said I could but I wasn't expecting one for 3 months. After some investigation, my oncologist's secretary had forgotten to mention a timescale in her request email, so I'd been called for nothing. The lady I spoke to was very apologetic and true to form I told her it was fine and these things happen, in a super chirpy voice. But actually, that could have really worried or upset someone else.

And as for seeing my oncologist and being told to just give them a call if I have any concerns about my side effects, before being ushered out with a "see you in 3 months!"? Sorry, but that's shit.

Sure, I'll call you if any more skin peels away from my inner thighs. Or if these abdominal cramps continue to get worse (I had to end a call pretty sharpish yesterday because I was in such pain). Or if my vagina suddenly becomes an outy. But what about the mental side effects? You've just fucked up my body, left me infertile and sent me on my merry way to process that on my own. Just 'see you in 3 months" to find out if any of it was bloody worth it.

All of the above is shit. Complete Bob-ish bollocks. I understand the NHS is massively tight and they need to spend the little money they have on the treatment, rather than holding my hand afterwards, but this article just shows how important that is. Why are we all going through this fight to survive to come out the other side and feel bloody miserable?

" Only one in 10 say they felt positive and ready to move on when treatment was over. More than half (53%) struggled with anxiety once hospital treatment had ended. "

So anyway, because I know the only fix is to sort it out rather than dwell on it, I decided to rummage through all my Bob paperwork and see if I'd picked up any information about somewhere that might help. And I have now signed up for a consultation with a personal trainer, qualified in cancer rehabilitation, through CU Fitter (www.cufitter.co.uk). Although it won't necessarily help with the mental aspect of cancer recovery, if I can get myself fitter and healthier, and lets be honest, THINNER!!, I might start to feel more like me again. And then I can start to tackle everything else.

Today's lesson is - if you need to cry it out in the shower and feel really bloody pissed off with the world, then do it. But don't do it forever. Pick yourself up and find the help that is out there. Because no one is going to help you if you don't ask. And hopefully knowing that you're not alone in feeling the shitty way that you do will motivate you to do it.

Life is tough, but darling, so are you.