I have written a journal sporadically since I was a child. Aside for being an incredible therapy tool, I write because I find it fascinating reading back either many years later or sometimes just a few days. It’s your own personal history book which will make you reflect, laugh, cringe, reminisce but also read with hindsight before and after big unexpected changes.
Due to the nature of its subject, this blog is similar and reading my last post, written before this crazy new world we are currently living in, feels surreal and if I’m honest with how I feel at the moment, quite depressing.
When I last wrote in January, freedom was the word that seemed to encapsulate everything the year ahead held for me. After a year of treatment and with only 2 more chemo cycles to go, the freedom to fully socialise, work and explore again was tantalisingly close and so incredibly exciting. A world of possibilities seem to literally buzz off the screen.
Two months later I had my last ever day of chemo, and with the sun on my face and my family around me it was such a beautiful moment. This milestone which felt so overwhelming at the beginning had been reached and I could finally move on.
For exactly 2 weeks I enjoyed this wonderful state, I even managed to go on a magical holiday that seems so beautifully timed now. 2 days after I got back the whole country went into lockdown.
Overnight, I like everyone else could only leave the house for restricted activities, couldn’t travel, couldn’t socialise with my family and friends and work has stopped.
Totally out of the blue, all those dreams, ambitions and plans suddenly snatched away in what felt like the 2ndtime in under 2 years.
Of course they will come back and they’ll be even better because we’ll all be in the same celebratory boat. But after finally reaching what I’d mustered so much energy for only to go into another state of life restrictions and uncertainties, I’m at the limit of my patience, my ability to hang on in there, my positivity struggling to keep on top. I’m fed up. I’m exhausted. I’m angry.
Ironically, something that’s emphasised these feelings is actually getting another completely clear MRI scan result last week. Yet another incredible accomplishment I know.
I do therefore flip to being on cloud nine, realising how lucky I am, what an achievement to have, how utterly grateful I am.
I guess the timing just feels cruel. Did this pandemic really have to start when my treatment had only just finished? Does it have to affect almost every aspect of our lives? Can we just have some certainties so we can plan our futures again and I can go back to imagining an easier, fun filled life.
I know we’re all going through this and there are so many similar feelings out there. I also really hope no one reading this thinks for a second I don’t realise that there are many many people who have it so much worse. I am truly grateful that myself and my family are healthy and safe. It’s just hard. I will get through it, like we all will, it just would have been nice to not have to.
But let’s go back to my scan result and stay there. How bloody brilliant. I’m still here, I’m still tumour free and I’m still able to rock that party whenever it happens.
I very much hope to see you there. Soon.