Wishing I Was Anonymous

As I come to the end of my two week holiday I’m looking forward to getting back into a routine. As much as I love being away and exploring new places there comes a point where my fatigue kicks and I am ready to rest in my own space and sleep in my own bed.

One of the best things about being on holiday is being anonymous. I travelled alone for seven days after my friends wedding; a whole week where nobody I encountered knew anything about my personal life, to them I was just an ‘ordinary’ person travelling alone, but for me the trip meant more than that. I didn’t have to feel the need to explain myself wherever I went, which was a welcome break for me. I’ve spent the last year worrying that my illness would mean that somehow I wouldn’t make it on to the flight. When I first booked the trip I kept thinking that if I die in the next year, would my family be able to get the money back I’d paid so far?. Morbid but true!

This holiday helped my realise I need to try and stop letting cancer define me. Like it or not it happens to me every day. I can be who I want, sometimes it isn’t always possible, but there are occasions when I can be completely anonymous and free from the poison chalice that is my terminal diagnosis. Even if it’s for a few hours it feels so nice to feel I fit in to the crowd. Looking well is a huge bonus in this situation as there are no questions asked. I enjoyed being a typical tourist exploring a new city.

For the first few days of my solo trip cancer was very far from my mind, however a few days in I received an email confirming my next PET CT Scan at the end of the month, so I am back in purgatory for the next few weeks whilst I play the quarterly ‘will or won’t my cancer be stable’ waiting game. You’d think after almost 8 years since my stage 4 diagnosis and approximately 4 years of active treatment I’d be used to this, but I’m not!

During my trip I noticed some spots of vitiligo getting worse, which I think could be down to overall sun exposure whilst away. Although I wear sun cream constantly I spotted a new area appear on my neck which made me feel really low. This change in skin pigmentation is a side effect of my treatment. Most of my vitiligo is in my torso and legs so not easily spotted by others, but the new area, along with the huge scar on my neck from my original melanoma is much more obvious. I also had a couple of nose bleeds, but I think this is likely to be down to the huge head cold and sore throat I got whilst in Chiang Mai.

When I look in the mirror I see I scars or marks of cancer treatment at every angle, the mark on my neck is another to add to my collection. I have scars on every part of my body from different operations, some more obvious than others; I have a protruding portacath for my immunotherapy treatment, vitiligo, raised scars, tattooed eyebrows and a slightly lazy eye. I had the last eye as a child but it got progressively worse again a couple of years ago so I had it operated on for the third time. The surgeon told me he thought it was very divergent considering I’d already had surgery twice, and the shift could be down to optical nerve damage that may been cause by my brain tumour a few years before. Although this is not necessary why, I can’t help but feel my tumour had something to do with it, because nothing is ever simple in my world. My left eye still remains slightly lazy, another reminder of all the crap I’ve had to go through. I so wish these things didn’t have an impact and I didn’t care, but I really do.

I should look in the mirror and be proud of my body, I know this because it has been so strong and fought back at every opportunity, but there are days when its difficult. The last few days have been hard, with no one there to help distract my thoughts about plans for the day or if the breakfast in the hotel will be good.

I really try not to let cancer define me, not to let it win, and It’s certainly not going to destroy me. When I feel low and depressed its not necessarily one particular thing that I can put my finger on, but a combination of the whole living with cancer package that throws me into turmoil. It’ll be something seemingly small, such as spotting the vitiligo earlier which will push me over the edge and then makes me feel down again.

All the scars and marks remind me there is a extremely unwell person staring back at me. That person is asking for the magic cure to fix everything. I have to dig deep for the mental strength to and carry on, only wishing I had the answer my reflection is looking for.

Being positive and picking myself up each day isn’t always simple, I try to see the good in situations and hope one day I’ll have the answers. I want to feel happy but it isn’t always the case. It goes without saying I’ve had an amazing couple of holidays over the last few weeks, I had a chemotherapy break, so when I go next week it’ll be the first time in six weeks, which is a rarity. America and Asia have been so much fun, but my reality is still the same as it was a few weeks ago, and it’s always hard come back from a good place mentally knowing it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Can I go back to being anonymous please?

5 thoughts on “Wishing I Was Anonymous

  1. Hey lovely. I smiled so much when you talked about being anonymous whilst away – it made me wonder if you could build that into your life as regularly as possible, little short local trips on your own to be somewhere new where you are also new? Top up your cup so to speak😊

    You spoke about not letting cancer define you. There is a highly recommended book “Man’s search for meaning” which I’ve only just started but am already inspired by, and I thought you might take inspiration from it too:

    “A prominent Viennese psychiatrist before the war, Viktor Frankl was uniquely able to observe the way that both he and others in Auschwitz coped (or didn’t) with the experience. He noticed that it was the men who comforted others and who gave away their last piece of bread who survived the longest – and who offered proof that everything can be taken away from us except the ability to choose our attitude in any given set of circumstances. The sort of person the concentration camp prisoner became was the result of an inner decision and not of camp influences alone. Frankl came to believe man’s deepest desire is to search for meaning and purpose. This outstanding work offers us all a way to transcend suffering and find significance in the art of living.”

    You are incredibly strong to have been through so much and you should indeed be extremely proud of your body. You have won every battle thrown at you, and even in your challenging days I still hear your determination.

    From following your blog I’ve learnt a lot about Melanoma, and despite what I’ve learnt I seem to fully expect you to live a long life, just somehow because of who *you* are.

    I hope you read the book ❤️

    Xxx

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Thank you Jo, very insightful as always – it’s so very hard when MM invades, takes over and you become identified by MM, cruel and indifferent identity fraud… Very brave of you to go on this solo adventure, another scary challenge accepted and successfully achieved! Well done you! Sorry you now have to return to the MM treadmill… Good luck!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Thank you for sharing. So great that you had a good trip. It sounds a very reflective time. You are a very positive person & keep pushing forward, yet you are entitled to express your true thoughts & feelings. You are a true & genuine inspiration💚

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Hi Jolene, Another erudite and thought provoking blog,yes it would be nice to have a magic wand and just wave it and everything would be ok, but as you know, it’s not. I think your attitude and mental strength are amazing although understandingly they sometimes flag a little. It’s like l always say there’s always love and support out there for you, l don’t know if it helps, but that’s all we can give you. Bob xx

    Liked by 1 person

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