The Results Are In

I have now been sharing my story via my blog for almost two years, and luckily in that time have also remained stable on my latest Immunotherapy drug, having had my last major surgery in the summer of 2016.

This week is also very significant as it marks exactly 13 years since I was initially diagnosed with stage 1 malignant melanoma via a mole on my neck when I was only 18 years old. I have now been living as a stage 4 patient for almost 8 years. I was told back then I may not make 25 and now I’m 31, struggling sometimes but I keep picking myself up again. Cancer has been with me my whole adult life, which is something I don’t think I’ll ever be able to accept.

In some ways my stage 4 diagnosis seems like a lifetime ago, but in others not much had changed. Not long after I had started recovery from surgery to remove my brain tumour and lung tumour I moved to London ana went back to work. I’m still living with friends in the capital city and attempting to navigate the working world as best I can. Around three years ago I moved form South West to East London, so it almost feels like London is a new city, having discovered parts I would never have seen before.

I still get too caught up in the moments when I feel well and then book in too many activities, so last weekend I spent a lot of time relaxing and napping in preparation for the week ahead. I had a chest infection and needed antibiotics, which I think have since cleared everything up. I need to be on good form for the Northampton Half Marathon on Sunday to raise funds for The Lewis Foundation.

I had a PET CT Scan last week and travelled to Leicester to get the results yesterday. I am delighted to say my news was all very positive and takes the pressure off over the next few months.

However, no matter how many times I’ve heard positive news over the last two years there is always the fear my world will fall apart again at any moment. In some ways it feels like I’ve been given a golden ticket, but tomorrow I could find out it’s actually fake after all. I am of course relived, but the fear doesn’t disappear over night.

I’m now very used to the three weekly routine and cycle of my treatment, in way it has become staple part of my life up until this point. Travelling to and from the hospital gets me down, it’s mentally stressful and physically exhausting, but it’s nothing if it means I have a functioning life the rest of the time. I need to try and shift my attitude so that I am ‘living with’ cancer rather than all the negatively that plagues me about dying from it.

Here’s to LIVING!

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?

Becoming An Adventurer

I am about half way through my holiday right now, so far I’ve visited Phuket and Chiang Mai in Thailand. I’ve created some wonderful memories, taking me well and truly out of my comfort zone, perhaps I am more of an adventurer than I thought!

The main reason for booking the holiday was to be a bridesmaid for my school friend in Phuket. In total there was a group of about 50 people who had travelled from England to watch the beautiful couple say ‘ I do’. It was so much fun spending time with friends and their families, as it wouldn’t happen ordinarily. Cancer has been very far from my mind, especially sipping coconut water from a real coconut at a beach bar overlooking the ocean! The venue and wedding itself were beautiful, it was an idillic setting, despite the delayed start due to a storm. I can’t wait to see all the photos.

Whilst in Phuket my friend and I took a day trip to Phi Phi, it was stunning however the weather was awful, making the boat journey very scary, however we made it there and back in one piece and lived to tell the tale. Whilst there we took a long boat out from the shore went snorkelling. Not one of my usual weekend activities and very much in my red zone of being scary and unsafe (not the fish, but the boat itself).

I’ve also eaten numerous times on my own, apart from day time cafe jaunts to write blog posts I would never have dreamt of going out to a restaurant for dinner alone whilst in London. ‘Table for one’ just doesn’t seem like the done thing, but when on holiday anything goes!

After my Phuket adventures I flew North and explored Chiang Mai for four days, I’ve found it to be a relaxed and friendly city, and I’ve been able to continue my down time. A few months ago I booked a trip to an Elephant Jungle Sanctuary which feels like a must when in Chiang Mai. As many people know I am not a really an animal person, so getting up close was an interesting experience. You can see form my Instagram photos that I’m pretending I’m not petrified!

Despite having a huge cold (mainly thanks to air conditioning) I’ve enjoyed the time alone; being able to wonder around and not worry about anyone else is a bonus. I’ve slowly been loosing my voice, I’m sure it’s down to a mixture of the cold and not speaking to people very often, I’m just glad it’s nothing more serious.

On paper this trip was one of the most scary things I’ve ever done, I thought spending so much time alone would be boring and was worried thoughts of cancer, dying abroad and my upcoming scan towards the end of the month would take over, not having anyone there to distract me. Two destinations down, and two to go! Perhaps I am becoming more adventurous? So far it’s been a success, I’ve been too busy exploring to think about cancer. All the negativity surrounding my illness is very far from my mind, I just hope it lasts when I get back home.

The Waiting Game

I am now playing the waiting game, having had a PET CT scan last week to check for any disease progression. I am keeping everything crossed and hope more than anything that my scan indicates my cancer has remained stable over the past few months.

Due to a Christmas break and Easter holidays It’s been over five months since I had my last scan, so I’ve had an extra long break from the anxiety that usually comes every three months. It’s safe to say if something is wrong I’ll be kicking myself for not having had a PET CT scan sooner.

Luckily I’ve been fairly busy over the past few days, which acts as a good distraction from all things melanoma related, but it doesn’t make the thoughts and feelings go away all together. I’ve had a few nights where I’ve been laying awake panicking about dying, a very real concern, but a very unhealthy thought process.

Waiting for results is the worst past of cancer treatment, my mind races with so many different thoughts it’s hard to keep on the right track and keep a grip on reality. In the past week alone I had three different medical appointments on three separate days, which in itself is exhausting. Having stage 4 cancer is a full time job and it will always be more important than anything else going on in my life.

My last four blood tests have shown I’m suffering from anaemia, which is not at all unusual for me, but is a bit of red flag. I’m normally boarder line when it comes to my haemoglobin levels, so I’m now taking iron tablets prescribed by my GP religiously in the hope they will help me feel less exhausted. I’m off to the Lake District to do the 5 Peak Challenge for Trekstock next week so I need to be on top form. I just hope it doesn’t lead to a blood transfusion!

When I had my PET CT scan last week I had a problem with my portacath. Over the last 12 months It’s been completely reliable, taking away the anxiety and stress of having a cannula fitted or blood taken every few weeks. Despite the nurses best attempts my portacath refused to bleed back, even though it was flushing normally. In the end I had to have the radioactive tracer for the scan injected via a vein in my arm, which was not ideal, as I have the world’s most pathetic small and thin veins! Luckily it was fine in the end, however there was probably about 20 minutes of failed attempts when my anxiety levels were through the roof (I previously had a couple of extremely bad scan related experiences).

Hopefully my portacath was just having an off day and will flush ok when I go for my next chemo appointment, otherwise I may need medicine to help unblock it! It’s the least of my issues but certainly adds to the stress of the whole treatment process.

Keeping everything crossed for my results!

Down To Earth With A Bump

I’ve taken a bit of break from blogging over the past month, it wasn’t a conscious decision, but a combination of a new job and various busy weekend activities has meant finding time to sit and write hasn’t been at the top of my agenda. When I’ve had some down time, my priority has been to eat and sleep and generally prepare myself for the next few days ahead.

Generally things have been going well, and I am due another PET CT scan in a few weeks time. However, I was feeling almost on top of things until earlier this week, when an unexpected headache lasting almost four days bought me back to down to Earth with a huge bump. However much I try to push it away, cancer always ends up at the forefront of my mind. It’s a reminder that my cancer will never go away, I will not be one of those patients who gets to ring the bell in the chemotherapy suite at the end of my treatment whilst onlookers cheer and clap, celebrating a successful voyage into a life post cancer. I find that whole process very strange, but I know my headache was a reminder this won’t be me.

There are many reasons for headaches, my suspicions says it was due to not drinking enough water, stress and tension; but another part of me will always fear it’s a reoccurrence of brain metastasis. I know too well that this is not an irrational thought, having joked to friends years before that my symptoms suggested a brain tumour, only to find out a short time later that I was right all along. Usually I like being right, but not then.

Having drank copious amounts of water over the past 72 hours I’m feeling much better than at the start of the week, both physically and mentally.

I’d been panicking a lot over the past few days, I know things could be much worse right now, but I also know I’m not ready to die yet, and the thought of having another brain tumour filled me with fear, most likely making the headache ten times worst. It was a huge reality check. My life is never going to be easy or plain sailing, but I am doing well right now, and I must keep telling myself that. There are so many more things I want to see, do and accomplish in my lifetime, even if it’ll be short. I am not ready to go, death isn’t on my to do list in the near future as far as I’m concerned. I don’t think I’m scared of dying, but worried about leaving others behind.

Now I’ve come back down to Earth with a bump, I’m going to take some more time to rest and hopefully start to feel on good form again, even with my next dose immunotherapy just a couple of days away.

Being Dealt A Bad Hand 

My stage 4 cancer diagnosis means that I miss out on so much, having serious health problems means there are many things I will not be able to do in my lifetime, which I find really upsetting. I have been dealt a bad hand in this life and at the moment I’m not coping very well. I’ve had sleepless nights over the past couple of weeks just wishing things could change.

People talk about elite members of society being the privileged few, but It feels like a terminal illness makes me part of the unprevileged few, not able to have opportunities like others can. All I want is a future. Why do bad things happen to good people so much? So many unasnwered questions!

I am so grateful for everything I do have, and that at the moment my treatment appears to be working, but I do get upset over the loss of opportunity that plagues me every day. So often people talk about life goals or future plans, but it’s sad for me, as I know cannot make those plans, as I won’t be able to achieve many of the things I wish for. It isn’t fair, It really isn’t. I don’t want people to think all I do is compain, but It’s hard not to be sad when I feel as though I’m staring down the barell of a loaded gun 24/7. I feel as though Ive been forced into playing a game of Russian Roulette. It takes all my energy to get out of bed in the morning and sometimes distracting myself from the horrendous situation by cooking and baking just isn’t enough.

I lack control over so much of my life, it’s frustrating that other opportunities and options do not come more easily. As a disabled person it’s great to get subsidised travel and free NHS prescription, but it’s a high price to pay. The opportunities to work full time, pay off my student loan etc are non existent which is hard when all I want in life is some stability amongst all the uncertainty. Just a small amount of control. Seemingly small things such as not being able to get a life insurance policy makes me feel like someone is telling me my life is worthless.

Each hospital trip fills me with dread and anxiety, I keep thinking that out of nowhere I could easily be signed off sick from work for weeks. The negative thoughts and worries constantly fill my head with the ‘What If’ secanrios. The sad thing is they aren’t irrational thoughts. I didn’t do anything to deserve this awful disease, but yet it found me regardless.

Society tells us we should have achieved a whole host of things in life by a particular age; from going travelling, establishing a career, perhaps getting promoted, finding a soul mate, getting a house together,  getting married, and then start thinking about a family. Although nothing in life is a guarantee for anyone, I feel I am not able to achieve these goals, and it makes me feel like an unworthy outcast. I know others might think differently, but I do see my health issues as a huge barrier. I’m so happy for others, but its still really unfair. I wish some of these things would be made easier for disabled people rather than harder. I wish more than anything I was able to do something to change it, If only it was simple. I want to run away from life’s problems and stick two fingers up to society. Sometimes society makes me feel like I’ve failed. Big time.

It’s amazing to see new lives entering into the world, and I admire my friends for their amazing parenting skills, however, for me it’s tinged with sadness as I know I won’t be able to have children myself. I just wish I had the choice rather than feeling like I have been robbed of the opportunity.  Similarly with feeling settled in a house, another constant reminder of all the options that are off the table for me. Travelling back and forward for treatment and not being able to put my mark on somewhere or save to put roots down is frustrating. I want my independence away from treatment, but it’s becoming more apparent I can’t have both, I’d just like to feel as though I have a future ahead of me like my peers and more choices.

The phrase health is wealth feels very apt, having a disability makes me feel like options are servelry lacking for me. I’m plagued by fatigue more and more every day and it makes doing things really difficult, much more so lately. I feel worse than I did when I started pembrolizumab a year and a half ago. I can feel so alone even in a room full of people who I know are my family and friends and care about me.

Of course, nobody knows what lies ahead, and naturally no one can have everything, but the grass certainly looks greener without stage 4 cancer. I’d like to be in anyone else’s shoes but mine just for a day, so I didn’t feel like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders. If there is someone upstairs looking down on us they clearly don’t like me very much. Sometimes at night I think about everything and get so worked up I can’t breathe and feel so overwhelmed with sadness it’s too much to bear.

I think mentally I’d be able to sustain this treatment and find some form of contentment if I knew cancer wasn’t going to kill me in the end. It’s so exhausting fighting a battle I know I am going to loose. I’m full on stress and anxiety with my next set of PET CT scan results just over a week away.

I want to be able to wave a magic wand and take the pain away. I wish I could win the Euro millions, and use it to do good and find a cure for cancer but until then I just have to keep going.

Why do bad things always happen to good people? I wish I was the quiz master with all the answers. I just want someone to hug me and tell me it’ll all be ok and teach me how to play my cards right with this terrible hand I’ve been dealt.

World Mental Health Day

World Mental Health day took place this week, and I saw lots of long posts on social media about the importance of looking after all aspects of our health. The day aims to draws attention to the importance of mental health and increase education on the subject which people often shy away from. Having stage 4 melanoma has hugely impacted both my mental and physical wellbeing. Knowing that I am dying, that something inside my body is killing me, and I’m constantly having to fight it off is often too much to process. 

Receiving a diagnosis of a serious illness such as cancer can have a huge impact on a persons mental health, and I have felt this over the past few years, particularly since receiving different chemotherapy and immunotherapy treatments. Thanks to my terminal diagnosis It is normal for me to experience huge levels anxiety, worry and fear on a daily basis. I touched on this previously back in April in a blog post called Maintaining Mental Heath, which focussed on the importance of exercise, It’s amazing how much a little exercise can help mental wellbeing. I sometimes take part in the occasional Parkrun, my time has actually gotten worst since I first went, but I do feel better for taking part. I tend to walk / jog the route, but its better than not doing it at all. I’m focussing my breathing rather than all the other negative thoughts that cloud my mind every day.

Having cancer is so draining, and the frequency of doctors appointments and hospital visits often adds to my anxiety and worry. Over the past seven days I’ve been to the GP twice and the hospital once, and I’m due to go in for immunotherapy tomorrow. Sometimes it just feels like too much! I’d love to escape somewhere for a few weeks with no hospitals around.

I’ve read a lot about Post-traumatic stress disorder and the effect it can have on cancer patients. People experience flashbacks and panic attacks as a reaction to exposure to very stressful and traumatising events they’ve experienced in the past. I’ve truly never really appreciated being mentally well, and the impact being unhealthy can have on a persons life until mine completely changed. I’ve always been a stressed person; school and studying at University were huge challenges for me, constantly worrying about deadlines etc, but that’s nothing compared to the way I feel nowadays. I once tried to see a psychologist when I was first diagnosed with stage 4 melanoma, but back then I felt worse for it. It was another trip to the hospital I just didn’t need! All my friends were embarking on new careers whilst I wasn’t well enough to get out of bed in the mornings, let alone go to work, and talking about it felt like a constant reminder of what I had lost. Years later I tried to seek counselling, and was fortunate enough to be referred by my GP to a local service in London. The idea with the sessions meant I had to commit to seeing someone for at least twelve weeks, however as I was about to mention this to my work I found myself back in hospital undergoing life saving surgery.  I never managed to make it to my first appointment, and since then I haven’t attempted to try again.

I know that I will always continue to experience these negative feelings and sadness because I am still having treatment. I am about to undergo my 23rd cycle of Pembrolizumab. There is still no end in sight, my treatment will continue, and I know I have to try to accept this. There is no being ‘out the other side’ of cancer.

Being in the know is very helpful when it comes to my diagnosis, I like to have as much information as possible so I feel like some things are within my control. I had a PET CT scan late last week and will get the results in three weeks time. I hope it will be ok, but I don’t think I can ever be that confident it will be. Ultimately it won’t be ok, and the longer I am well, the closer I am to becoming unwell again. Yes, it being mentally draining is an understatement! I live my life in cycles of twelve weeks, so I am really hoping I can continue on Pembrolizumab and refocus after I received the results. I really want to enjoy Christmas and New Year.

As I get older I find mental health problems seem more common than I once thought, but perhaps that’s part of being an adult and being more aware. Sometimes it’s ok not to be ok, I know I have both good and bad days, and have to accept that. Tomorrow is a new day as they say! I’m sure there are some people reading who have or will be effected by mental health during their lifetime, either themselves or by knowing family or friends who have struggled. Luckily I have a strong network of people around me to talk to, as well as using this blog as an outlet for my feelings.

The Fear Of Missing Out 

The past few nights I have struggled to sleep and have noticed there is a lot of tension in my jaw and I’m constantly clenching my teeth. On the whole I’ve had a few bad days but have tried to put my struggles to the back of my mind, but all in all I’ve been feeling a mix of emotions over the past few days. I think feeling fatigued and the lack of sleep can often make me very sensitive, almost bursting into tears and the drop of the hat about the injustice of my situation.

I have been part of lots of celebrations this summer, as well as exciting trips including going to the Edinburgh Fringe, but it doesn’t automatically wipe out all the negative feelings I battle with daily. I have felt very down and emotional at times. It has struck me how different my life is to that of my peers, over time this has become more and more apparent, and leaves me feeling angry and upset. I’ve mentioned in previous posts but I think my friends are more likely to attend my funeral than my wedding, and that is hard to accept. I’m envious of everyone who had a future ahead of them, or is about to embark on their next big adventure (which feels like everyone at the moment). I am genuinely happy for everyone who is travelling the world, getting married or having children, but it doesn’t mean I don’t feel sad for myself that I’m not doing those things, and it’s actually really really hard.

It’s not necessarily missing out now, but the fear about what the future holds, rather than the excitement I should be feeling. Everything is so restricted when you’re living on borrowed time.

I am able to compartmentalise my life, but only to a certain point, cancer and treatment is in one section, with all the negative emotions and thoughts. The rest of my life in others, but it doesn’t mean my sadness and grief for the life I’ve lost disappears. Lack of sleep certainly makes this worst, which I’ve felt over the past week.

In recent conversations I’ve noticed a few times people assume I work part time because I have children; so it’s often hard to continue the conversation, how do you explain you have a terminal illness?  Sometimes, when people ask what other creative endeavours I indulge in during my spare time I brush it off and say ‘oh not much’ because it’s too hard to tell the truth. The automatic thought is that I have a family, or I’m someone who works part time to moonlight doing something else I’m really passionate about, like volunteering or teaching yoga. The only thing I’m passionate about right now is staying alive!

A few weeks ago I was travelling during rush hour on the London Underground  wearing my Please Offer Me A Seat badge, its was really bush and a lady across from me assumed I was pregnant and tried to start a conversation with me that then became very awkward. I should have had ‘leave me alone’ written on my forehead. I told her I had a lot of health problems, but didn’t divulge too much. It made for a pretty awkward journey for the next few stops. Even if I were in a relationship and I wanted children I couldn’t anyway because of my treatment. So even if I’m lucky enough to meet someone who wants to be with a dying girl It’s never going to happen (thanks to that lady for the reminder that life has dealt me yet another blow). I know she had good intentions, but I thought it was very insentive, she has no idea about others struggles – it could be a really sensitive subject for anyone! I guess at 30 I am missing the boat on these options.

I’ve got the fear of missing out when it comes to future plans, which I previously touched on in my post My Greatest Fears earlier in the year. With everyone else moving forward I don’t want to be left behind. Life is unfair, and I spend many anxious hours awake each night trying to make sense of it all. Mentally, it’s overwhelming and very taxing. I used to get the fear of missing out over small things, like birthday parties, but now I feel the fears are much bigger and more justified. I know I don’t want these future options right now, but it would be nice to have the choice.

#FOMO

What Having Cancer Has Taught Me

During the past few weeks I’ve been thinking a lot about my situation and what I’ve learnt from it. Being unwell has taught me a lot, including some valuable lessons. Of course, I would change this all in a heartbeat if I could, but I can’t turn back time.

Cancer has taught me It’s ok to be upset.

Over the past 11 years I’ve tried my hardest to put a positive spin on things, even when feels like there is no hope and I am loosing control altogether. Over the past couple of years, particularly since starting active treatment, I’ve established that that it is fine have down days. I am often my harshest critic and I have to remind myself of this from time to time. I often have days where I feel very emotional, when I wake up in the middle of the night with bad thoughts running through my head, it leaves me feeling emotional and exhausted.

When I wake up in the mornings there is sometimes a brief few seconds when I’ve forgot about having Melanoma, but that respite is all too brief. I reminded of this almost instantly, and I’m constantly plagued by thoughts of cancer and illness throughout the day, about how unfair and cruel life can be and that I can never turn back time. I know It’s ok to cry and be upset, I spend a lot of time holding it in, sometimes it helps, but I don’t think it will do me any favours in the long run. I often think I have bouts of depression, but figure that its understandable considering what my ‘normal’ is.

Every day I have moments that are constantly preoccupied with thoughts of dying, but then then I do my best to move on. If I didn’t my anxiety levels an my heart rate would be through the roof every hour of the day. No one likes being surrounded by negativity all the time, so I try to keep my distance from it.  It’s awful, yes, but right now it could be much worse and my life is so much more than having cancer.

Cancer has taught me a smile goes a long way.

Having a series of regular appointments for treatment means I’m all too over familiar with Leicester Royal Infirmary’s Oncology Suite. It’s a place I know like the back of my hand, and I hate the way it’s not unusual to me. There is an all too familiar smell in the air; of disinfectant, drugs and school  canteens. I feel like I come away at the end of a treatment day smelling of hospitals. When I go to the gym, I don’t even like putting a wristband on because it reminds me of being a hospital patient.

My appointments in the chemotherapy suite for my Immunotherapy often last all day, literally! Being out of the house for 12-13 hours every time is exhausting. Essentially I have to go to get my bloods done, see my Oncologist, and then as long as my team are happy with my bloods I’m ok to have treatment. Due to cost implications the pharmacy at my hospital make up the immunotherapy drugs in large batches, once all the patients who are receiving Pembrolizumab are ready for treatment. It can be very frustrating having an appointment scheduled for a time that is essentially completely fluid depending on other patients and how well staffed departments are that day. Currently I have Pembrolizumab with the same cycle of about six or seven other patients, so I know I’m not the only one playing the waiting game. Being at the hospital is a stark reminder of reality, and it’s challenging being surrounded by other unwell people all day. The staff are great, but the mood on the ward is often very somber. It’s like we’re all on the waiting list for an exclusive club that we don’t actually want to go in or be part of. There are a lot of unhappy or sad looking faces on the ward. In these circumstances I’ve learnt that a smile goes a long way and can often make the world of difference to me when having treatment. It reminds me I am not on my own.  I’m pretty sure every patient there would be somewhere else given the choice, it isn’t a place we get excited about visiting, there are millions of other places I’d rather be.  I try to smile as much as I can, a joke, an offer of a sweet or a smile back from another patient or nurse makes it all a little less painful.

Cancer has taught me to be kind to my body.

Cancer has taught me I need to be kinder to my body than I perhaps once was. Good food, rest and sleep are all key, especially during a treatment week.  Naturally, this doesn’t always happen, but they really go hand it hand with one another, and the combination often makes me feel so much better. I know I shouldn’t underestimate the power of rest, my body needs It. I try to go to the gym regularly, but have decided not to go in the week after I’ve had treatment. It only makes me more exhausted and it’s not worth it. I’ve had rest week during my last two cycles and I think it works well, going to work is a challenge, but it’s doable, so I don’t need to make any more difficult by going to the gym and meeting friends in the days following. Since trailing this, I’ve felt almost back to normal after about six days and ready and energised for whatever is thrown at me. Being kind to my body, and allowing myself to cut it some slack has been really beneficial. What better excuse to have a lazy week and use the cancer card anyway? I need to try and keep my diet varied and healthy, but sometimes this can be easier said than done. I’ve given up chocolate and fizzy drinks over Easter, just to see if I have the will power. I’ve had my moments but on the whole I’ve cut back which is a great.

Cancer has taught me knowledge is power.

Knowledge is power when it comes to feeling in control of my treatment. More often than not I overhear conversations in the Oncology waiting room with other patients and their familIes who seem as though they aren’t necessary as clued up on their treatment and how it’s going as I am. As the youngest person there by at least 30 years maybe it’s a age thing, or perhaps they don’t quite accept how ill they really are?. I like to know where I stand, and what options might be open to me later down the line so I like to keep abreast of developments in cancer treatment in the media. There have been a few breakthroughs in the treatment of Melanoma over the past few years, with Pembrolizumab being a drug I read about prior to recieving it. I sincerely hope they are more to come. On the flip side, there are the Daily Mail type articles which suggest anything and everything have the ability to give you cancer, or stop you getting it in the first place. I’m all for a fad, from chia seeds to my latest discovery of bitter apricot kernels, I agree that every little helps it if makes me feel like I’m doing my bit to help, including cutting out the sugar, but I know eating broccoli everyday isn’t going to cure me. Nothing will cure me now. Call my a cynic, but if one food such as broccoli really was the elixir of life we’d all be getting it by the shed load on the NHS wouldn’t we? Perhaps an annual broccoli jab?

Cancer has taught me I am a strong person.

The most valuable thing I have learnt since having cancer me that I am stronger that I think. Cancer is a huge part of my life but it’s not everything I am about. It doesn’t define me. I am a sister, daughter and friend; I am an aspiring traveller, dance and theatre enthusiast, brunch lover, keen writer, documentary fan, wannabe chef, and a sometime gym goer. I know that I am not really a good runner (despite my best efforts), I am not an avid fiction reader, cyclist, or confident swimmer (I’ve never really been sporty, it’s the lack of coordination, you won’t catch me doing the London – Paris bike ride) I’m not a coffee drinker, or a master at arts and crafts, I can’t hold a tune and I don’t really have a good sense of direction. I am strong though, and right now that is what counts.