This place in limbo land is a blessing.
One I all too often under-emphasise….I don’t respect enough just how lucky I am to be in this black hole of unknown, waiting for the monster that is Melanoma to strike.
I have anger at Melanoma…and frustration at “not-knowing” if or when Melanoma will come back…so I bury myself so deep into work, and to projects that become all-consuming passions & I grasp at perfect moments with my family in between the self-inflicted rollercoaster of an 80mph existence that is in all honesty…mentally exhausting.
I feel like I am in a whirlwind all the time…but I can’t slow down or switch off, or stop because I must…simply must…make every single moment count.
It seems that no matter how busy I make myself…no matter how much “healthiness” & “good” I surround myself with, I simply cannot escape Cancer.
In some ways I don’t want to…like I said, I am about to undertake a project meaning I am currently switching on my “Melanoma” job head the minute I get back from working my normal day to day job – I am choosing a weight and the burden of responsibility because I can see a benefit to it.
However sometimes that weight becomes too great…when external influences tip “brave me” off this delicately balanced shelf.
My wonderful mother in law has been battling Cancer which resulted in an extremely complicated surgery 2 weeks ago removing the large lobe of her liver & effectively taking scoops out of what was left. This surgery led to complications, and sadly due to her being released from hospital too early and then not being seen by a district nurse for 3 days to check her drain it looks as though she is about to face another potentially life threatening procedure.
The stress, the fears, the uncertainty…it’s been too close to home.
I have frown lines on my frown lines & I fear I may need to resort to getting Santa to get me Botox for Christmas.
Despite the fact that it has been undeniably tough…it was just “Cancer”…it was her cancer & not mine.
Mine is hiding safely tucked away in limbo land….& then earlier this week a friend called Lesley died. I met Lesley in Brussels after she had me in tears listening to her speak with passion and such commitment for her quest to survive Occular Melanoma.
It was a blow….Lesley would be the second patient I had met in Brussels that I connected with that died & I admired her greatly.
None of the recent emotional turmoil has been helped by the fact that I was due my 3 month checkup….which I wasn’t nervous about as such because I feel well. Not that it is normal…pre-check up nerves….but it has become such that I expect and allow for a week of disturbed sleep, and heightened anxiety….almost so much so, that the Melanoia has become familiar…and therby friendly.
So slightly emotionally bruised, but still feeling somewhat excited to update The Surgeon (aka Mr Oliver Cassell) on “the project” he has been helping me with, I headed up to Oxford today.
That sounds so blasé….I didn’t exactly just jump in the car & go….you are obviously aware that I was preened & adorned in matching underwear completely ready for close inspection of skin, lymph nodes & all the flaws that makeup/fake tan & straighteners cannot disguise.
The joyful roadworks on the A40 as you enter & then pass through Oxford meant that my planned arrival 15 minutes before the appointment turned into my being late, out of breath, hot, bothered and mildly irritated.
The consultation was in a different room from normal & the examination bed was set too low from the previous visitor….the levers to adjust the height were easy to find…but the button to set the brakes & lock it into position were not to be found…
The skin examination wasn’t that problematic…The Surgeon wrote notes…with dimensions & diagrams of various moles that were new so he could update his records. I find great comfort in seeing the same person every time…someone who knows my skin, and the peculiarities of my lymph nodes. I find the continuity of my care at Oxford reassuring.
Likewise the continuity that every time I go something hysterical happens…something that could only happen to me….today it was that I went to sit down on the bed so that The Surgeon could check the scar on my back….and then the bed (with no brakes) zips backwards nearly sending me flying into a blonde mess on the floor in just my underwear!
My checkup complete…the all clear box ticked once again.
I returned home only to receive messages from friends…my special friend Lori died this morning.
I have mentioned Lori on the blog before – I met her in Brussels too…she was this incredibly clever lady that never seemed to allow any obstacle to stand in her way….she hit so many hurdles in her fight with Melanoma and seemed to gain strength and determination each barrier she climbed…but sadly today the balance tipped the wrong way.
I don’t cry very often…but this afternoon I have.
I try to be brave & hardened to this experience…I try to remain optimistic….I try not to feel some strange guilt that I am still here when others are not.
Back at the start of my journey I felt desperately alone…..and then I went to Brussels & found such comfort and solace from meeting other patients…people who like me were at various stages of their own rollercoaster rides…If they could fight the monster – so could I.I met 3 patients from England that trip…Mark, Lesley & Lori….and Melanoma has taken them all.
I cannot allow the monster to win.