Armstrong

This week Lance came out with his admissions. I posted some time ago what I thought of him. What about now? Well, I am not in one bit surprised. I remember reading his book and the overwhelming feeling that I did not like him. However, there was the fight against the disease and some of the same descriptions as I had gone through. But, despite not liking him, I admired his drive (not to get better but about his sport). I have never been short on drive and recognised this in him and felt I understood. The internal pressure to maintain this must have been huge, and the fact that he had such strength meant he was so capable of keeping it up. But at what cost? The fact that he did what he did at the expense of other peoples' lives is what I find so immoral. If he only drove himself into the ground, I could understand it, as that is what happens to the insanely driven (one way or another - I do think I have some insight here :) ). But he dragged other people down with him. He doesn't deserve the fact that I bothered to post. The only reason I am is that my wife bought me a Livestrong t-shirt last year and I loved it, I felt (even though I didn't like him) that it was a brand I inherently got (forget about the Nike downsides). It's almost funny really. You might imagine watching such a lie in a movie. Perhaps this will happen.
And no, I didn't believe him......

The new year - A new me

So...a new year. Nearly three since I was diagnosed. What has changed recently.
An interesting thing (at least for me) . For some time after I was sick (and before I was finished chemo), I knew I had to do at last something, something which involved being in touch with the cancer community. I don't like the phrase 'give something back' but you know what I mean. The thing is......for over two years now I think I was so focused on normal life again. This is not an excuse but a reality. Married, three children, full time job, the whole bit. I regularly thought about it but, deep down, I just didn't feel ready. I can't put it any simpler than that.
In the last few weeks something has changed in me. For the first time I have a sense of being ready. Like I have matured. This is a strange feeling. The trigger was a neighbour who died from cancer a few weeks ago. I felt this so deeply - seeing him (with my wife), going to the funeral, meeting his wife (whom my children love). While I have always thought about what happened to me every single day, it all came back to me when this man died. And for the first time I thought, yes I can. It's a strange thing - I am an IT professional, well educated, used to speaking to people and for the last two years have been convinced I would not be able to talk to sick people, despite my experience of being sick. Don't get me wrong, I would be a novice (a complete newbie), but for the first time I believe it is something I could do, with time and training.

So I signed up for a national charity day, collecting money for cancer in March. That, however, is an easy thing. I also inquired into the next step - volunteering for the national cancer charity, and whatever that might mean. I've just been told that this involves 4 full days' training in April. And now a new dilemma. Four days out of my holidays seems like so many - can I commit to this, and whatever comes after this. I know I can do it, but can I commit to this? Or will I need some time to take this next step? And will I end up thinking less of myself if I don't this year? There's a voice in my mind saying this would be the most significant learning opportunity I'd ever have - learning in a new way for me (academic has always been easy for me, dealing with people has always been difficult).

Didn't mean to go on. I will decide over the next few weeks. But hey, this is a start.

Fearless

I’ve had an enlightening few weeks.

I had to do an IT certification for work which involved doing a course for a full week (40 hours), followed by some study at the weekend (perhaps about7 hours), followed by a six (yes, 6) hour exam on the Monday. Now, I have long known that I have a huge ability to concentrate. A 6 hour exam with a 70% pass mark (which I passed by the way) demonstrates this I think. However, what I only learned about myself when I got sick two years ago is just how much this mental effort has a negative impact on you, both mentally and physically. It is now 4 days after the exam and I’m only beginning to feel like myself again, after several nights of 10 hours sleep. At one point two days ago I was physically shaking with tiredness.  I awoke with nightmares about physical and emotional threats. Unlike in the past, I now know my limits and rested.

In days like these I think about being sick again. I recently saw (again) the movie Fearless. It made me cry in a way I’m absolutely sure I did not do when I saw it first in 1993. 

There were two moments that will always stay with me. The first is when, after the crash, Jeff Bridges tastes a strawberry. It is like the first time he ever did and you can see on his face the moment, the fact that he is in the “now” savoring every second. I remember that feeling. Every time I came out of hospital I would look out the window into my back garden for hours just looking at the green, literally appreciating the wonder of it like I never did before. I wish I was able to maintain this feeling all of the time. Of course this is every buddhist's dream, but I would imagine it hard getting a day's work done on this basis. But I do feel almost ashamed that I do not have this as much as I should, now that I know the huge pleasure that comes with this.

The other moment was at the end where his wife resuscitates him. He is dying (ironically because he is allergic to strawberries) and she brings him back. He gasps for breath and says “I’m alive”. The joy in that moment was amazing. Of course I had this feeling after I got my all-clear. And I want to have this feeling more than I do. Real life takes over. This is why meditation is so important. It helps direct these thoughts and make them more real.

The movie does a flashback to the moment on the plane when he crashed - the feeling that 'this is my time to die. I had a similar moment when I was in a tiny room, alone, waiting in silence for my first PET scan. A sense of panic and lack of control. Total Fear. Unlike Bridges' character, I didn't lose my fear at that moment. But I don't have fear now. No fear about the future. No fear about recurrence of the cancer. Perhaps that's why, like the character in the film, I think the illness (as I had a positive outcome) is one of the best things that ever happened to me.

I used to talk to the birds

When I was sick I used to talk to the birds. On walks on my own, when I could go on walks. "I'm still here", I'd shout, "I'm still here". Of course I meant this in an affectionate way :). I had this overpowering feeling that they knew I was sick, crazy as that sounds. I often felt they were talking to me, supporting me, and boy did I need it at times. Walking among the hedgerows, hearing their sounds, is something I remember very fondly, and deeply appreciate.

There's an old Irish story by Paraic O'Conaire called Eoghnin na nhein (Owen of the birds), which had a deep impact on me when I was 16 (and is the only one I remember as a result). In it, a sickly child waits day after day in Spring for the swallows to return and, after much longer than normal, they return, he talks to them....and then he dies. I find this funny now only because it is typical of many Irish stories of the time......not many laughs. I always think they reflect Ireland of the time so well (early 20th century).....

Anyway, I talked to these swallows and told them that they'd be seeing me next year when they came back. And the year after that.  And they did. Last year and this year I've been running in the same area and give them a wave. "Still here" I shout.

The All Clear

Yesterday I got the all clear. That's two years cancer free.

I knew I was fine. However, I am not naive enough to think that this thing cannot return in a heartbeat. As mentioned in previous posts, I feel better and more positive now than I ever did before.
What was unusual about yesterday was that I can honestly say that I felt absolutely no anxiety whatsoever when going into the hospital for the results. At the risk of sounding like the IceMan (or an equivalent unfeeling entity), I was totally calm. The doctor actually said to me that he had seen a half dozen patients before me that morning already, all of whom were in various states of anxiety or nervousness, even those who had been free of cancer for 7 or 8 years....and I was the most relaxed person he'd seen all week. I remember the way I sat - almost perched into a relaxed but attentive position. I think this reflect my new ability to take things as they come, try to focus on the now. Of course I had thought about a negative outcome, but had rationalised it and broken it down, seeing clearly what that would look like and how I would cope. This, it seems, is the value of my experience. What will be will be. I must say this was a strange position to be in but left me feeling confident and strong, rather than cold.

I drove home at a very slow pace, thinking about what had just happened, playing it over in my mind and out loud. This felt like a lonely conversation. But of course everybody's experience is different, everybody's fears are different and everybody's vision of their future is different. So in many ways, this was a unique experience.

Then I went back to work. Within an hour I was back doing the mundane, ordinary tasks of the day. And later I made dinner and read stories to my children before going to bed.
But that's o.k. Aren't they the things I got better for? They are the things I choose to do...because I can.

"You're looking so well"

One of the things I have faced in the last two years since my recovery is people who have not seen me since I was sick meeting me and saying "You're looking so well".
Now, initially I took this as a complement, bald and thin as I was, and said 'thank you'. However, two years on when it is said to me I sometimes forget I was sick and that they are saying this thing with my illness in mind. I'm regularly stuck for something to say so I often just say, 'thanks, you look great too'. I mean, hey, this is often not relevant (or true :)) or appropriate but I don't know what else to say.

Sometimes these people, who all mean the best by the way, do actually bring up the illness and ask how how it impacted me, how I am feeling now and if I have any symptoms since. After two years this feels like a crazy question but, as I say, it is well meant. I'm polite and am general and generally skirt around the issue before changing the subject. What else can I do? I mean, the truth may not work so well. I could mention extreme constipation, puking, losing my hair, low blood count to the point of not being able to walk, sharing a ward with other cancer patients staring (their) death in the face every day, a million needles, steroids leading to horrendous nightmares and chemotherapy 24 hours a day for 7 days six times over.....all of this is not after dinner conversation....at least most of the time. Just writing that has made me smile as I compare my life now (i.e. free of all that stuff) to then.

And speaking of horrendous dreams......at the end of each 7 days chemo I would have 10 days off before the next round. The hardest thing during this period was dealing with the 'come down' from the steroids. The doctors had said that this was not common, but by God did I have nightmares for two nights after I stopped. The worst I remember was me as a petrol pump attendant in Las Vegas (Given I live in Ireland the reason for this is not clear) - a car pulled up with two Pandas in the front and two rhinos in the back with Chewbacca from Star Wars and they proceeded to chase me with axes and iron bars. Funny in hindsight, but at the time I woke up in a cold sweat.
Hey, maybe that's the story I tell these people who tell me how great I look. It's got to work better than the truth.

Post Cancer - Regular Scans

Tomorrow I have my annual CT scan. It is two years since I was given the all clear. I think it is fantastic that I am privileged enough to be in a country with a health system where not only was I cured, but I can undertake these scans to provide assurance. There is a train of thought, even among some oncologists, that these regular scans are unnecessary and that they are clogging up the system. I appreciate that point of view but, as you'd expect in my position, I disagree with it.

Statistically, I am more likely to have a recurrence of cancer than other people who have never had it. This weighs on my mind. I was lucky in that I was given a statistical probability when I got sick that 80% of people had full recovery and it never came back. I thought they were good odds back then and gave me huge hope. I still think about this and take succour, particularly as I know the odds for other types of cancer are not nearly so good.

While I feel absolutely fine now, the fact that I was sick is always front of mind. My dedication to looking after my health now is at the very front. As a result, while it is a pain in the ass having to go to hospital, it really is a small price to pay for the reassurance. I am not nervous or anxious. I am way past that at this point, after the experience I have had. In fact, I cannot remember the last time I was anxious about anything.  What will be will be.  This brings to mind the phrase "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger". This has been absolutely true in my case. I would not go as far as to say cancer was the best thing that ever happened to me (because, let's face it, that would be ridiculous) but it certainly has given me a more rounded perspective on life.

Dreams

One of the things I have started to get interested in since I was sick is the idea that your body tries to provide you with messages and signals. This can be as simple as things like being particularly tired -  Before I got sick I used to simply ignore this feeling and keep working until, inevitably, a week later I would crash. Now I listen and actually rest (at least most of the time). It can also mean that dreams are providing you with messages. Now, I'm not talking about the ones where a camel with wings and a buck tooth are chasing you down the main shopping street of town. I'm talking about the ones which are personal to your situation. I started to notice this when I was recovering from cancer. Now it happens quite regularly and more often when I am in good shape (eating well, running, not drinking and doing some meditation). I have this simple theory that the first thing that comes into my head, literally the initial interpretation, about what the dream is trying to tell you is probably correct.

So I had one of these dreams two nights ago. I was sitting around a large table with my family and extended family and we were all singing Elbow's "One day like this" (the significance of which to me was explained in a previous post). Now my family as as not particularly musical, although it has its stars, but sitting around singing songs is not something that happens any Monday afternoon.
However, given that I was about to visit the town where my extended family is about to meet up as part of a local festival this was quite telling for me. I had been thinking about how important it was to connect with friends and family when the opportunity arises and this dream was, to me, indicating that I need to grab this opportunity. Simple? Yes. But when I am actually in this situation (i.e. with friends and family) or about to be, this dream then serves to help me stay in the present and enjoy every moment.
Now this is all fine. However, the same night I had a pre-ceeding dream that I walked out of a door which was on the side of a cliff. I had the choice to try to clamber down (which would lead to certain death) or go back in through the door. This was just a huge metaphor for the cancer journey I had gone through and so I don't think that the fact that the "Elbow" dream that followed it was coincidence. A clear message to myself that I had chosen to live (with the no small help of chemotherapy of course :) ) and I should grab it with both hands........all things I have started to focus on since I started blogging on this subject.

So the conclusion for me is that I am very in touch with what is going on in my mind or that I have completely lost my mind.

Stress and Cancer

I've been catching up on my Horizon episodes this week as I'm on holidays. As usual, it is insightful in the extreme and often seems relevant to what is going on in my life.

The episode I watched last night was "The Truth about Fat". It is mostly about what causes people to overeat and what can be done for obese people to change their eating habits. All very interesting. However, what I found of most interest was a study by Prof. Tim Spector from King's College, London  on identical twins. They are genetically identical in every way but the twins he is researching have a marked difference in their weight as adults.  The presenter, Surgeon Gabriel Weston, said that "Stress can create parallel but different destinies. Spector stated that "When they were put under stress they reacted differently" (i.e. the one with more stress put on more weight due to the relevant gene 'switching on' and that "It is not set in stone - you can reverse whatever signal has taken place to switch a gene on."
Now, I have blogged before about my firm belief that I caused my own cancer as a result of the environment I put myself in (i.e. stress). But that is all it was, a belief, a feeling I was right. What this program has hinted is that there is more direct scientific research to suggest that genes can be switched on and off as a result of environment. This may not be news to some people but it was to me. I have a science background and had always assumed that genetic predisposition is exactly that, set in stone at the moment of conception. My oncologist said that what happened to me was a 'genetic blip', not caused by environmental factors which causes some cancers (e.g. smoking, drinking excessively etc.).  While this makes sense, I have recently believed that this 'blip' had a trigger. Stress, I believe now, was that trigger, despite some of the things which I have read that suggests this is unlikely.

So the upshot of this for me is very positive. It is even more reassuring that reducing stress in my life, obviously along with eating healthily and taking exercise, will definitely reduce the likelihood of cancer in the future.  It has also driven the need for more personal research in this area to understand what kind of stresses may have a genetic impact. Any pointers would be much appreciated.

Elbow - One Day like this

Last night I watched Elbow on the Olympics closing ceremony singing "One Day Like This". I cried.

When I was recovering two years ago, when I had been told that after four of the six chemo sessions that the scan showed the cancer was gone, I used to listen to this song every day. I remember going through the last two chemo sessions and listening to this song as it was a symbol of the light for me at the end of the tunnel. "Throw those curtains wide" was like a message for me - live every day to the full. It helped me get through those last two sessions with a positive outlook.
I cried last night not just because it reminded me of this time but because in the last 6 weeks or so I have, as suggested in previous posts, had a rekindling of this positive view, literally seeing things in a way I have not done for two years. It was like a reminder to stay on this path.
Incidentally, I have been listening to Elbow's last album recently (Build a Rocket Boys) and the more I listen, the more I think it is inspirational too. Lyrics that are so gentle. If you have not had the pleasure, trust me, it's worth it.

Stress

A few years ago I saw a great documentary on BBC2 by Stephen Fry on depression. It was largely about his own difficulties with depression and how it impacted his personal and professional life.

As usual with Fry, it is has total honesty that endears one to him (I read his autobiography last year and was astounded by this). Anyway, he also interviewed other people who had depression, the most notable of which for me was Richard Dreyfuss.

He described how he has regular serious depression - the kind where he took lithium on a regular basis. He said that the most productive time in his life was in the late 70s and early 80s when he had very few bouts of depression - and then his career took a nosedive as he relapsed and working became so very difficult. What was most interesting to me though was how Dreyfuss described stress (which came from the depression in his case, but his comment was general). 

He said that when you are stressed you literally cannot function like you normally do. It is exactly that lack of stress which allows you to function, be productive and have normal healthy relationships. Now this may sound like common sense but we all find it difficult to cope with normal life when we are stressed due to children, work and other commitments (like taking too much on).

This is something I have become even more conscious of since I have been sick. I am not saying I am never stressed (well, I'm rarely as stresses as I used to be) but I regularly notice the lack of stress now - I recognise it when I am "fully present", which happens more often than it ever did. This has helped me make some decisions recently about helping to remove sources of stress (and potential sources). I stop when I am tired now and don't try to do everything or be all things to all people. I think I'll always have to work on this though as it does not come naturally to me. But as you might expect, I am a strong believer in a link between stress and cancer so this is my motivating factor.

Lance Armstong

When I was sick two years ago a friend of mine bought me a book by Lance Armstrong, the (many time) Tour de France winner who had cancer in the late nineties. It covered how he got sick, what happened and how he got back to health. Even though I must say I was not crazy about him as a person (I thought he was quite arrogant), I was hugely encouraged by this book at the time and would recommend it for anyone who has cancer now or indeed has gone through it and come out the other side.

He was hit by the same issue I had during chemo, a serious decrease in white blood cells which meant he found it difficult to move about (and cycle even a short distance which he found very difficult). I was also inspired by the title, 'My journey back to life' because that is exactly what I felt I was going through, literally trying to get back to a life which I considered to be on hold.
I bring this up because today my wife bought me a running top which is from his brand with Nike, some of the money from which goes to his foundation. She said that felt it would help keep me encouraged when running considering where I had come from two years ago. I think it just might.

And of course I bought a bike when I was at the end of the chemo. But instead of a bike to race on, I got a touring bike to out my two year old on and cycle around town. A much better idea and I have got great use out of it. Only problem now is that he'll only get on the bike with me if I promise to buy him sweets on the journey -it's no longer the pleasure of the spin for him. Can't have everything I suppose.

Two years ago......

At the moment I'm saying "two years ago I..." a lot. Yesterday, I said 'Two years ago I had to stay with my parents for 2 days as one of my children was sick and so the doctors advised me to get out of the house in case I picked up the illness and I'd be in trouble. I went to my parents' house and could hardly walk to the end of the street. Today I went for a three mile run in my parents' home town and then went for a few pints with my Dad". I'm finding that doing this comparison is healthy for me and helping me appreciate the individual moments of a day.  It is helping me remember just how much I used to push to always be doing something productive. It seems crazy. Now I can simply 'be' and enjoy it.

I'm reading a book called 'Running with the mind of Meditation' at the moment, a gift from my brother. It is fantastic. It is basically about the balance that a life with both running and meditation can provide you. An easy read. There's a good Youtube clip which illustrates what the author is about and it's not too heavy. Hey, these things are aspirations and are not easy to reach but I am feeling that it is a good aspiration for me to have. I'm not taking it too seriously but I think the central message about the link between mind and body is what is so poignant for me given that I believe that this disconnection was what caused me to be sick in the first place. I see it as a therapy to ensure this does not happen again.

I met a guy last year who spoke like this as he told me that he, some years ago, had cancer twice. He "didn't learn the lessons the first time" he said. This was such a powerful message to me and one I have never forgotten.

Children

Two years ago when I had Cancer my children were 9, 6 and 2. I would imagine this paints a difficult picture. And it was, but as I've said previously, my wife handled it so well and things were as normal as was possible. The only things I think they noticed was that I was not at work and helped to get them ready for school in the morning and the fact that I was bald. A neighbour's child, a friend of my then 6 year old daughter, used to come in every day and nonchalantly say "hello baldy", which I loved. Being bald never bothered me in the slightest, an advantage of being a man I expect. It was when the eyebrows went that I looked really strange which took a little longer. Then I really did look sick.

Anyway, my 9 year old boy was at the age where all he cared about were his friends and his nintendo (which is even worse now), the 2 year old was too young to know any difference. But the then 6 year old girl was a revelation. She was acutely aware of what was going on, always watching me out of the corner of her eye..."are you alright there Dad?", "can I get you anything Dad?". At 6 this was astonishing but I suppose I shouldn't really be surprised as girls (and women) in general are better at that than us.  One of my favourite memories of that time was when she fell off her bicycle (bare with me). She came in howling with two cut knees, two cut elbows, a gash on her chin and all the blood that  minor cuts can pump out. In the middle of this she started yelling "I don't want to die, I don't want to die". I love this. In the middle of my cancer nightmare, between chemo sessions and coming off steroids, she was saying this. This is one I'll be bringing up when I'm making a speech at her wedding to ensure her husband (or wife :)) to be knows what their getting into.

People asked us, "did you tell the children what was going on?". And we did. We were very open with them. We first suspected things were not going in when the 6 year old came home from school one day and said she had told her teacher that her Dad was sick. When asked what was wrong with him she said "Alcoholic". Me thinks something got lost in translation.

Then, about 2 months after everything was finished we were at dinner one evening and we asked the 9 year old and 6 year old to remember the Summer and asked what had been wrong with Daddy. Totally blank faces resulted. We started laughing and pushed saying, 'you do remember Dad was sick?'. They did. A few minutes later the 9 year old said "Malaria". The only reason this came into his hear he later told me was that he thought I had the same sickness as Cheryl Cole, who did indeed have Malaria that Summer.

So my conclusion is that my sickness has no impact on my children. Well that's something anyway.

Hospital - what a place!

To back up a comment from the previous post about hospital being a terrible place (despite the wonderful people)......
One weekend between chemo sessions I was rushed in due to a rising temperature, potential danger...the whole palaver. I ended up isolated for 24 hours followed by spending 2 days and nights in a Heart ward as there were no other beds in the hospital. It was both a sad and a funny experience at the same time. There were 8 guys in a room, at least 3 of whom had no idea where they were due to age or drugs or both.  Anyway on the second night I got chatting to this old man and we exchanged war stories about surgery and illness. He then said something that will stay with me forever - "I am 88, more than twice your age, and I want to get out of here just as much as you do." I love that. The simple drive for normality has no age boundary. The abhorrence of sickness has no age boundary. He made me smile when we agreed that to go for a pint was the normal thing we both wanted the most......I already knew that alcohol has no age boundary.

Learning

So what have I learned about myself after all this?
Firstly I learned that I'm a "bit" wired at times. I remember being in the hospital and being quizzed about my lifestyle from a nutritionist and she just laughed at me....not because of all the healthy things I was doing on top of all the work, but the fact that I had been hiding the fact that I was doing a Masters degree from my wife (see previous post).  She had heard of guys going on benders or playing too much golf and pretending to be at work, but omitting  masters degree from a wife's list of 'need to know' was new to her. With hindsight, this speaks volumes really - the fact I didn't tell her indicates I knew she would think I was taking on too much and try to prevent me. Of course this simple logic was not front of mind at the time....and this 'wired' factor has decreased on the last two years.

Secondly, it reconfirmed what I knew already - that I am very focused and driven and can put my mind to anything.    Of course the chemotherapy did the job on the 'thing' but I like to think my determination played at least a part. It certainly did in relation to enduring the chemo.

Thirdly, I have an amazing family - my wife and parents and siblings were my rocks. My wife is a seriously strong person - Samsonlike in her determination to ensure the kids' lives were maintained as normal.

Lastly, I learned that it is important to remember it. It puts everything in perspective. I always say that the worst day at work is a million times better than the best day in hospital. I know it is hard to keep this front of mind when work and normal life is difficult, but it really helps to consider it on those days.

How did I end up in that situation?

Many people may think that asking that question is crazy after two years. Why did I get cancer? I was healthy and fit. I was only 38. I didn't smoke and I drank in moderation. I ate very healthily. All in all, I felt I had the 'balance' I mentioned in previous posts. Well, with hindsight I know that I had the farthest thing from balance. At the time I was sick I had a family, with 3 children under 9, a full time job which was quite demanding. I also had taken on two assistant lecturing positions at the open university, increasing from the single one I had six months earlier. Oh, and I was also finishing a Masters degree. So, what I now know is that I thought I could do everything. I'm smart (well, smart enough) and capable....."why couldn't I do all of this?" was my attitude. I actually remember thinking this.
So in summary I fully believe that I made myself sick. This may be a controversial view to some. My doctors called my non-hodgkins lymphoma a 'genetic blip', literally an accident of genetics. And that's fine. But I believe that this blip was triggered by my situation. I think this because of what I have learned since. I have read alot about eastern medicine and meditation and they indicated the strong links between mind and body.  I believe I pushed myself so far and so hard for so long that something had to give. And it did.
So this now explains my search for balance. Sometimes the old me rears its head.  I recently got it into my head that I wanted to do a doctorate and got all the information on what I needed and thought through the logistics over a period of weeks. Then one day I realised that this was the old me. I had this feeling that this idea did not feel right all along. I meditated on this last night and made a clear (and amazingly quick) decision that I will not persue this crazy idea at this point in my life. The clear lesson I have learned is "JUST BECAUSE I CAN DO SOMETHING DOES NOT MEAN THAT I SHOULD'.  For years I always felt capable and I fully believe that I can do anything I put my mind to, a feeling I have even stronger now I've been through cancer. However, wisdom is about knowing when not to do something and finding the balance in your life. This is a hugely positive step and decision for me and I will take this learning into other parts of my life.

Even more why….

So there are other reasons for me to blog about my experience.  It will certainly keep it in mind. I’m sure some people would think it would be great to forget and time is a great healer. But I don’t want to forget because I believe having it front of mind (or at least somewhere in my mind) will help me enjoy life more. I have a tendency to get stresses out at times, the main reason being that I take on too much and stress inevitably follows (of which more later). These periods don’t last long but I would like to minimize them if at all possible. This is a choice, a conscious decision to take more control and be more positive. Ultimately it is about balance – the ying and the yang. 

This idea of balance is something  had in mind well before I was sick but did not maintain it…..and this lack of balance is what I believe made me sick (of which much more later).

I think one of the other reasons I think it is important is that, hopefully, other people who have been what I was through, or indeed are going through it now, will take some comfort and hopefully have a giggle at some of the stuff I come out with. I would love to interact with people who have had a similar experience. I was 38 when I was sick and I certainly knew nobody else that young who had cancer. So I would like to communicate about this as I believe it will help us all.

So why blog?......revisited

It struck me some weeks ago that I was so determined to get back to reality two years ago, and subsequently determined to get back to work about 4 months after finishing chemo, that I have missed out on some of the opportunities which the experience has afforded me. By this I mean the realisation of how lucky I was (and am), how much I have in life and how I can use this to ensourage my sense of wonder and appreciation. I remember that nearly every time I was in the hospital for a week and came home, completely whacked from the chemo and the steroids, that I had a sense of wonder for days. I would literally look out the window and marvel at the green grass and flowers. Corny as that may seem now, I had been staring at grey walls in the hospital for over a week and to see something different was fantastic.  To see my children laughing (and fighting) illustrated the life around me as I had shared a ward with some of the sickest people imaginable. Getting back to reality has removed some of this. This is inevitable to some extent I believe as the strains and stresses of normal life return. I mentioned before that when I did alot of meditation earlier this year I felt this appreciation return so I intend to take this up again. But I want to have this sense of appreciation during the day also, to literally make me a better person for having gone through this experience. It was so all encompassing that I believe it can be the driving force for pushing me in new directions. Of this more shortly as I need to work out what these directions are....hence the blog. I think it will help me get my thoughts together on this.

So why blog?

So why would I bother to blog on this subject after 2years? Well, things have moved on. I was so determined to get back to normal, back to exercise and most of all back to work, that I forgot what I went through. For a long time I threw myself into work. About year later I "discovered" meditation, which really helped. But after 6 months I dropped it....I intend to start back soon. But I need to remember more so I can appreciate all I have. Blogging about this will force me to think. More later...."..