25th November, 2012.
I have been writing my blog on the Salisbury Review on line blog spot for a few months. That is all bad tempered political stuff, not a place for random thoughts, or reflecting on the cancer which originally led me to start blogging.
It is now over two years since I took ill and had the dread diagnosis, ovarian cancer stage four, grade three, that was in May 2010 and despite predictions of doom, I am still here going strong!
My check ups are every six months from Feb, but I was surprised when the time of the 3 months check came, I felt anxiety, even though I didn't have to go for a check. My brain is still hard wired for the 3 monthly anguish it seems.
I wouldn't perhaps think much about the cancer at all now, if I didn't keep meeting other unfortunate beings who keep getting it.
On Saturday at my art class a middle aged woman revealed that she has brain cancer. She told me that it began with a polyp up her nose which her GP failed to diagnose. By the time they found it, it had developed into a rare form of brain cancer. When they operate she will lose the senses of taste and smell and perhaps her sight, and the tumour could of course kill her.
She is a self-important, rather unfriendly woman but I felt bad for her of course. She is striking a pose of absolute strength and determination, even saying, "if I die, I die, can't do anything about it." Perhaps not the best way to face the future, but she will change as she enters the tunnel and goes along it, at what ever pace.
This morning I was thinking about her as I got ready for church. As I walked there I suddenly felt terribly tired, after the service I came home and went to bed. I dreamed that a large tumour had come up on my neck. The fear is all there in me, and other people with cancer act as "triggers" re-traumatising me, but I don't resent that at all. That is all part of my new life, post cancer, or "in remission" as people put it, which is a word which also traumatises me, as my conscious, waking mind likes to believe I am am cured.