Read All About It

A quick blog post to update people on my latest media venture.

A little earlier in the year I was interviewed for Mail On Sunday’s YOU Magazine, and the article comes out this Sunday (22 July).

The piece focusses on my story, talking about my cancer experience so far and how my family and friends have helped me navigate through the toughest journey of my life.

I hope it helps to raise further awareness of what it is like to live with stage 4 cancer, and all the ups and downs that come alongside it. In the article, I talk about my initial diagnosis, treatments so far, my work / life balance and raising money for charities such as Trekstock, who have been a huge help to me over the past couple of years. Nowadays I struggle to remember what it was like to live without cancer, to live my life and not feel as though I am in constant fear every single day. Cancer will always be part of my life, so it’s important to acknowledge that, but it is not all I am about.

If you’re able, do go and pick up a copy and have a read over your breakfast / exercise session / bath on Sunday morning. Thank you so much to the lovely Rosalind, Charlotte and all the team at YOU Magazine.

UPDATE: You can read the online version here

Festive Feelings 2.0

Christmas 2017 is a day away, and it seems like only yesterday I wrote the first Christmas blog post Festive Feelings, but 365 days have passed and a lot has happened over the past year.

On Monday I went on a Christmas trip with my Mum and Sister to Brussels, which makes a huge change from the week before Christmas last year, when had my ninth cycle of Pembrolizumab. So far I have had 25 cycles of the drug and all remains stable, which is more than I could have wished for during 2017. I am pleased to say I haven’t had any last minute hospital dashes or huge scares over the past few months. I am also very lucky that I haven’t had another major operations in 2017. Once again, hospital is the last place I would want to be over Christmas, and am really grateful to be an outpatient, particularly at this time of year.

I often start to worry about the year ahead and the challenges cancer might throw at me. The unpredictable nature of the illness has been a huge part of the anxiety I have been experiencing lately. Melanoma is never far from my mind, particularly during the festive season.

I’m grateful to be well enough this Christmas to enjoy it again, although I’ve been feeling very down over the past few months I know how lucky I am. Overall it doesn’t matter how many presents someone gets, how expensive they are, how festive the house looks or how big the Christmas tree is. There are much bigger problems in life than what films to watch on Christmas day, or what gifts to buy family and friends. What really matters is spending time with people I care about, and trying to be as happy and positive as I can moving forward.

2018 marks a big change for me, I recently got a new job which I am due start in January. I am excited to have a new focus, and for the new challenges that will come with it.

Wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy New year!

The Season Of Good News

Following a recent report from Macmillan, there have been a series of articles in the news over the past few weeks stating that there are now thousands of people in England who have the most advanced cancers, and that they now surviving for several years after their diagnosis. There has been a lot of coverage in the news, for example on the BBC and Guardian websites.

The research, revealed at the National CancerResearch Institute Conference in Liverpool is based on data from England’s national cancer registry. The data captures people who were diagnosed with one of ten different types of cancer between 2012 and 2013 and were still alive at the end of 2015. For me, this isn’t really breaking news so to speak. Two years doesn’t seem like an awful lot of time to me, but its better than nothing, and who knows what the future will hold. It is of course good news! The data shows that new and improved treatments such as immunotherapy mean some cancers can be more manageable, similarly to that of other long term chronic illnesses. Sadly, this is by no means a cure. I still have a terminal illness, and I am still dying, but at the moment the disease progression is slower than I have been predicted in the past.

At my last appointment with my oncologist in Leicester I was told that my most recent PET CT scan was stable, there are no signs of disease progression at present. I ultimately can’t change the path my life has set out on, but I am always so happy to hear those words.

I have been a cancer patient my whole adult life, and stage 4 patient for over 7 years. Last May, after my second bowel surgery to remove melanoma one of my surgeons suggested I should think about giving up work altogether, given my diagnosis. Although that person was clearly incorrect, moments like that really hit home, and are a terrible reminder of how cancer has changed my life irreversibly. It bought me back down to earth with a huge thud. Life isn’t as simple when melanoma is involved.

My friends and family often comment on how brave I am, and suggest they wouldn’t be able to do the same in my shoes. I just try my best to get on with my life, I have no other choice. There is no other way to deal with the situation, so it’s actually pretty simple, despite my life being overly complicated. I would be lying if I said it wasn’t mentally and physically exhausting to get out of bed every day and carry on like there is nothing wrong; but there is no other path I can take, no alternative route. I feel unwell and exhausted a lot of the time, more than most people realise, but I just have to get on with it.

Lately, I’ve had many more down days than I have done previously, there has been a lot of late night crying in bed. I need to keep positive, but its those moments when I am all alone and more vulnerable that I think too much. I’m not finding baths as relaxing as they give me too much thinking time! When the door is locked it feels like a gateway to my emotions opens up and everything comes flooding out. I am trying to be kinder to myself and allow a few melt downs or sad moments which I otherwise would have brushed off. it is worse to bottle everything up, but emotionally it drains me of strength and energy.

I am still the same person inside, however I am just overly emotional at the moment. I’ve cut down on a lot of social activities in the lead up to Christmas and December is upon us. I am finding sometimes it’s just too much for me, particularly with the seasons changing. It’s so dark and cold outside, I want to go home straight after work and sleep. Sometimes this can be detrimental, as it gives me more time to dwell on negative feelings.

The positive news about my PET CT scan is something good to focus on, as well as all the exciting events in the lead up to Christmas time. It might be dark and cold but T’is the season to be Jolly! Perhaps this is the season of good news.

My Fifteen Minutes Of Fame

Since A Time To Live aired on BBC Two last month I have been overwhelmed by the response from family and friends as well as members of the general public. I’m really glad I took part in the documentary and feel all the stories were really well thought out; it was joyful and touching at the same time, and remained true to life throughout. I hope it may help others who might be in a similar situation to me.

A short clip of my story appeared on the BBC News Facebook Page shortly after A Time To Live aired, and within 24 hours it had been viewed a staggering 1 million times. Yes, 1 million! Currently the viewing figure stands at 1.2 million. It’s crazy to think my story has been seen that many times and shared by total strangers all over the world. The feedback on the whole has been overwhelmingly positive. As I mentioned in one of my last blog posts, Not An Average Morning the decision to take part wasn’t always easy, and isn’t something I would have considered this time last year. Personally I believe that in some ways part of a healing journey and a great step forward for me, helping to distance myself from a lot of negativity surrounding my illness.

I originally decide to start writing about my experiences with Stage IV melanoma for the following reasons.

1) Many people that I know said I should, because it may be therapeutic, and help me to be less angry and upset about the situation I am in.

2) There didn’t seem to be many other people out there doing the same thing.

3) I had never encountered a single person of around the same age who has the same type cancer as me, or even any form of cancer.

4) It would a great opportunity to raise awareness of melanoma.

In the six months since I began writing and filmed my part in the BBC documentary I am proud to say that I have achieved all or part of the above objectives. I’ve had various messages from people over the past few weeks, from old school friends to complete strangers. I’ve had emails, handwritten letters, Facebook messages and telephone calls. I even had a delivery of flowers to my work from a local lady who wanted to wish me a happy birthday. She said my story touched her and wanted to tell me I was inspiring. I haven’t done anything specific, I’ve just been honest about my feelings to a big audience. The kindness of strangers is incredible, and its great to feel my story has resonated with so many others. Last week I was leaving work a lunchtime and a woman who past me in the street stopped me and said she’d recognised me from the film, and proceeded to tell me how great I was. I’ve never received so many compliments, it has been a glimpse of what it must feel like to be famous.

Prior to the film airing I had been feeling very nervous, however I’ve now had my fifteen minutes of fame, and it wasn’t nearly as scary as I thought it would be. Actually, it has been pretty cool. I’m no one special, and there are plenty of other people having an equally rubbish time, but with all the madness happening in the world right now it is nice to see something having a positive impact. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone for the lovely messages of kindness and support, apologies if I haven’t got back to anyone directly, it has been a hectic few weeks. I want to take this opportunity to send love to all those reading this, weather you have been personally affected by cancer or not I really appreciate it. I  honestly cannot put it into words exactly what it means to feel such love and support.

Back in the real world I have a PET CT scan coming up in a couple of weeks so I am hoping for stable results. There will never be a time when I don’t worry and loose sleep about this, I am only human after all. This is the bit that gets no easier not matter how much times passed. You’d think that after nearly seven years as a Stage 4 patient I would be used to it. I am trying to not to loose my mind whilst I wait for the next few weeks to run their course. I have another European adventure panned and plenty of work activity to keep my mind occupied, I also went on a long walk this morning to get some fresh air and am feeling better already.

A New Reality

Two weeks ago I had an operation at the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford which I wrote about in my previous post Another Hospital Stay. The operation was closely followed by another cycle of Pembrolizumab. I didn’t realise how much of an effect a general anaesthetic can have on a person, I’ve had a lot more rest than usual and have been sleeping around 10 – 11 hours a night. This weekend things haven’t gone exactly to plan, having a severe bout of sickness has meant I’ve been on bed rest for the last couple of days, so all my work and bank holiday plans have gone out the window. No mater how much you work towards something, how much time and effort you’ve put in, cancer can take that away from you in an instant. After a couple of frantic calls to the chemotherapy 24 hour emergency helpline fearing that I would need to go into hospital things have now eased off. An unplanned hospital trip is my worst nightmare, and it with it being bank holiday could have been a long ordeal.

I have lots of celebrations coming up in May and a busy few weekends, including a trip to Prague. Its never easy living like this, life isn’t always as it seems from the outside. One minute I’m busying myself with work to distract myself from reality and the next I’m napping for numerous days in a row, or suddenly unwell. I’m either stuffing my face or have no appetite and I’m not really feeling a happy medium at the moment. Situations like this make me wary of making new plans. This summer I am going to six weddings, but I’m now panicking I won’t be able to make it to all of them, no matter how much I want to be there. In the past I’ve missed a number of weddings due to surgery or hospital treatment, so I’ll be hugely grateful if I manage to attend all of these event over the summer months. Cancer is my new reality and I have to take it one step at a time.

I don’t often let things hold me back but sometimes my situation changes rapidly and things become out of my control. Having my operation with one weeks notice was hard, it felt like bad timing, but with treatment cycles every three weeks there was never going to be a good time. I might not always portray it that way, but life isn’t a walk in the part, I struggle a lot with finding balance, I just try make the most of things when I am able to, but sometimes that comes at a price.

I often lay awake at night thinking about my future, and if there will even be one. We all know how this will end, but it’s still impossible to believe! Surely this can’t be my life? Of course the prognosis is bad, but it appears Pembrolizumab has given me a life line for now. Sometimes I don’t know what to think anymore because it doesn’t feel like this is normal. I’m sill working and going about my daily life. How can this really be happening to me? I know I have to accept it as a consequence of being alive, but lately I have been finding that waves of illness and generally feeling exhausted are becoming more and more frequent. It saddens me to think my life has become like this. A new reality.

I know I’m lucky to have lived well for so long, and that despite a few bumps in the road recently, for the most part I am continuing to do so. There are so many people who have been taken too quickly, or far too soon. Shortly after starting my own blog I came across two incredible blogs from melanoma patients who have since passed away, Wrestling Melanoma and Dear Melanoma. Reading these blogs made me realise that I wasn’t the only young person going through such an ordeal, and they gave me the confidence to keep writing about my experiences.

Like many Stage 4 patients I know what’s coming, but I can’t imagine what my family will do when I’m not here anymore. In some ways I refuse to believe it, because for me It would be accepting defeat. I have already been alive for 6 and a half years since my Stage 4 diagnosis, around 5 years longer than predicted. I have learnt that sometimes there are situations which we cannot change, no matter how much we want to. Although we don’t have control over what has happened previously, we are the ones who make our life what it is. I could look at this negative situation and (often rightly so) see nothing but darkness, or I could look and see the glimmers of light which show hope. I guess it is how we deal with these situations shows our true personality.

The bottom line is, it really doesn’t matter what type of cancer someone is diagnosed with, how old they are, or what the overall prognosis is. When your life is on the line and it could be cut short without notice its completely terrifying. Wondering if you are going to live or die or not something anyone should have to go through. It is ok to not have the answers, I know I don’t. Its really difficult to fully understand what goes through another persons head until you’ve experienced that death is there, just waiting for you around the corner. Sadly its a frightening reality for some.

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.

Learning To Let It Go

All my friends know how organised I like to be, I love a plan, and don’t like going into situations without having a clear picture of what to expect. My work often revolves around waiting for people to get back to me before I can spring into action. Having as much information as humanly possible makes me feel like I have done my part, It’s a way of my being in control of a situation. Having cancer has meant that I am seriously lacking control and plans can change at the drop of a hat. I often joke that I am borderline OCD, however this means I can get stressed easily, and it feels as if I am going around in circles most of the time. The thought of disease spreading throughout my body, and of having no control over it makes me feel physically sick and anxious. When people ask how I am, I’ll say I’m ok 90% of the time, because it’s too difficult to articulate my true feelings over brunch or a quick text catch-up.

Cancer is lonely and even with incredible amounts of support from family and friends it is still a huge challenge. I don’t want to be the friend that nobody wants to hang out with because they are always feeling negative, so I have tried to keep some things to myself over the past few weeks, in the hope I will help myself and others around me. I want to enjoy time with friends focussed on other subjects, the ones that ordinary twenty-somethings talk about.

Dealing with such a bad diagnosis out of the blue has taught me so much about others, seeing both the positive and the negative. I have learnt from my initial Stage 4 diagnosis back in 2010 that some people will be there no matter what, they will show you what it means to be a true friend. The good eggs will laugh and cry with you, and be there for you even if it means that they have to listen to the same story 100 times (we all know I love a story). They will let you rant and rave about life first, even if they have something really important to say. They will make you four different types of tea just to make sure you have the one you want, they will sponsor your 10k charity race, run it with you, or cheer you on in the cold at the finish line. They will travel from far and wide to see you even when you tell them not to bother, and remember when you have your hospital appointments, even when they are living in another time zone. I am forever in debt to these friends. I have no idea how I would react if I was on the flip side, so this is a shout out to my awesome friends both near and far. Thank you!

A couple of weeks ago I received results from my latest PET CT scan, and luckily everything is currently stable. I didn’t tell many people that I was having the scan, as I was trying not to talk about it so much in order to focus on other things. Yay for Pembrolizumab! For now I keep going on the same drug regime and I will have another scan in around three months time.

Somehow, I am going to learn to let go of what I can’t control, and focus on all the positive aspects of my life. I am still here aren’t I? I’m still alive, and by all accounts doing really well.

The Travel Bug 

Over the past 12 months I have been abroad numerous times,  and have certainly been bitten by the travel bug. My 2016 trips have included a holiday to the USA to visit Austin, San Francisco and Minneapolis last January, and various weekends away to European cities, including Lisbon, Gothenburg, Berlin and Venice. I have been trying to visit as many cities as possible whilst I feel able, and I’ve enjoyed some wonderful adventures with amazing friends.

Sadly, I didn’t go travelling during my ill planned gap year. In retrospect, I wish that I had, but I can’t change the decisions that I made, or didn’t make, at 18. I could not imagine the path which lay ahead of me then. I assumed that I would have many more opportunities to go away and see the World. Nowadays there are numerous obstacles which prevent me from going on trips which are more adventurous than the Eurostar to Bruges, but just being able to escape for the weekend is good enough for me. It would seem that the World may no longer be my oyster, but hopefully Europe will be for a good while longer.

I am keen to make good memories whilst my health is not completely against me. It probably appears to others as though I do too much, which is often the case, but I am trying to squeeze as much as I can before I’m unable. I know some places are now no go zones, where I’d be likely to pick up a bug of some sort even if I was a 100% healthy person. I think Egypt is out of the question as well as a fair few others, but you never know what the future may hold. Being faced with my own mortality had certainly made me look at things in a very different way.

I have spent far too much time in bed recovering from operations, or just being generally too exhausted to move to last me a life time. I need rest but do not want to look back and wish that I had done so much more. There have been times over the years when I have been unable to get out of bed, or been in too much pain to to put on a t-shirt, or even brush my hair.  Of course, working part time has certainly had an impact on my travel wish list, but budget airlines like Ryanair and EasyJet make it possible, even if for just one night in Copenhagen with school friends. Who is going to turn down £16.99 flights each way?

If anyone knows of any good travel insurance companies who don’t run a mile when they hear the words ‘Cancer’ and ‘Stage 4’, then I would love to receive some tips or pointers. I cannot take out insurance without declaring anything as this would be void should I actually have an issue which needed addressing. I am now in a position I cannot risk anything, I could fall ill at any time, and I need reassurance and peace of mind that I’m covered for any eventuality.

From what I can gather from online research it seems to be impossible to get travel insurance for America, so I doubt if  I will be going there again anytime soon. I have travelled to a fair few states, so it is a shame that I feel that I am unable to return. It wouldn’t be a great place to be if my health took a bad turn. I just need to remember that I was lucky enough to be able to go in the first place.

Here’s to more adventures in 2017! I’ve planned trips to Lille, Warsaw and Rome so far, but new suggestions are always welcome.

Why I Make It Work

I recently took part in an online Facebook Live Q&A on behalf of Trekstock with Barbara Wilson, the founder of Working With Cancer. Work has always been a very important to me since my initial diagnosis, and over the past six years it has offered me a sense of purpose and an opportunity to focus on something outside of the relentless cycle of hospital appointments.

Since graduating from University, I have moved jobs a couple of times and was, until recently, in full time employment. I started working part time in July 2016 when I began receiving Pembrolizumab, which requires hospital visits every three weeks, rather than my previous cycle of once a month. Although it was devastating to reduce my hours as I felt as though I was letting go of control of my situation, I knew that it would be for my own benefit. I am pretty sure that nobody on their death bed has ever said that they wish they had worked harder during their lifetime. The work / life balance is much needed in order for me to cope with the treatment cycle and also to do things for myself. Asking the questions on behalf of the Trekstock Network reminded me of just how important this is for me.

I am certain that without the focus of work, I would not have had the determination to bounce back so quickly from operations and treatment. This has made the prospect of work even more meaningful than before. Over the years I have had various stints of time off work, the longest being when I was initially diagnosed with stage 4 melanoma in 2010. I left my first graduate job for a period of six months to recover from having both brain and lung tumours removed. I needed to be at home with family whilst I got better, but I yearned for a sense of normality, and looked forward to returning to a familiar routine, and having my independence reinstated. I had only been employed for a very short time before I had to take this time off, so I felt very short changed. As mentioned in my first post 11 Years, It was not the post graduate success story that I had set out for myself. Despite not having known the team for very long, returning to work made me feel as though I had never left, and they  became some of my closest friends. I found the transition back a huge challenge on both a physical and mental level.  Despite any distance that may have come between us over the years, we shared an experience which has sealed our bond of friendship forever.

Once again another six months of my life has been so easily swallowed up by hospital visits and cancer treatment. This is it. This is my life and my future. Most people get bored of their work routine, but for me it makes me happy to have a reason to get out of bed three mornings a week; a reason completely unrelated to my illness. I want to live as normal a life as possible.  To be someone who goes to work just like the majority of the population my age is key. I like living in London and enjoy my routine, sometimes it can be a little boring, but it beats living at home with one of my parents and not working. I feel that if I had decided to stay at home long term after my operations six years ago, my attitude and outlook would be very different. Work is a huge factor in this. My job might not be rocket science compared to others, but it certainly keeps me sane. Why should my life be any different? It helps me to feel needed and as though I make some sort of difference. I know that when the time comes for me to give up work completely I will know that I am on a downhill slope.

Whilst recovering from  my second bowel operation in May 2016, time seemed to go really slowly, and yet looking back, these last six months as a whole has seemed to pass me by with no clear definining moments other than those which revolve around illness. It sounds negative and depressing when written down, but If anything It has made me realise what really matters and what I most value. Most of the time I don’t feel depressed about it, just determined to put it all behind me as quickly as possible. I know that I can never fully move on, as I will never be cured of cancer, but I would like to try and finish one chapter and start another which I am hoping will not be as bad as the previous one.

Of course, starting a new chapter is dependent on what happens when I have my next PET CT scan which will be towards the end of January. I do know that I will keep working for as long as I am able, I am certain about that. I make it work because having a job is an amazing outlet for me, and makes me feel relatively normal.