Celebrate every cancer milestone however small, each one gets you to the end goal… beating it
The Sun Online's columnist wants to hear from you... the things cancer made you say, the good, the bad and the ugly
I HAVE high expectations in life. Sometimes too high.
I get over excited about birthdays and dream up the perfect surprise party in my head.
I dream of beautifully romantic evenings down to the finest detail.
And more than anything, I imagine one day standing holding a sign saying "my LAST chemo, I've BEATEN stage 4cancer".
Needless to say, I'm often disappointed.
Not due to a lack of trying or others failing to put in enough effort, but all too often the anticipation is better than the reality.
I'm the one that ends up missing the enjoyment of a party and being "in the moment" because I'm too worried about if there's enough booze to go round, or that something might get broken.
'Life's most rewarding moments are those you don't plan for'
I'm sure most of us will agree that most often the rewarding moments in life are those you don't plan for.
The ones that just hit you, in the most mundane but beautiful way.
Those nights out that start as a quick drink with a mate and turn into the party of the century.
While cancer doesn't grant many unexpected pleasures, or magical moments, reaching milestones - even unplanned ones - and celebrating each and every step, can shine a little light into the darkness.
While cancer doesn’t grant many magical moments, reaching milestones – even unplanned ones – and celebrating each and every step, can shine a little light into the darkness
And it can help provide that much-needed boost to get you over the next hurdle.
'With cancer, celebrating every milestone - no matter how small - helps you through'
This week, I have an excuse for one of those mini celebrations.
OK, it's not that moment when I can wave THAT sign telling the world I've beaten cancer, but it's something!
I've made it to the end of this chemo regime.
A year down the line and 21 cycles of nuclear chemo completed.
After the low point I found myself in last week, where I just wanted to hide away in my cancer cave, this is one of those times to stop and pat myself on the back.
'A year ago as a chemo virgin, I had no idea what to expect'
A year ago this week, I started chemotherapy.
The nuclear beast that I hope will give me more time.
While recovering from my bowel resection op and trying to get my head around cancer, I was scared.
I didn't know what to expect, and even the word cancer sent shivers down my spine.
Last Valentine's Day was spent with a wonderful team of dedicated nurses and doctors, who talked me though all my concerns about chemo, and explained the process in great detail.
'The plan was simple - 12 cycles of chemo and I'd forget about this cancer blip'
As the first drug went in and the red button was pressed, the crash team came running as I went into full panic attack mode.
I was calmly reassured that everything would be OK, and I could do this.
The plan was simple, 12 cycles - one every two weeks for six months.
Then I would go on my merry way and forget about his cancer blip.
I'd order that "straight out of chemo" T-shirt, get the champagne on ice and book a holiday to celebrate.
'But that didn't happen... I cried at cycle 12, I felt cheated'
After a few cycles of chemo, doctors found my cancer had spread to my lungs.
And what had been a chemo regime with a clear end in sight quickly became a case of "let's just take this one step at a time".
I ploughed on and cried at my 12th cycle, I felt cheated, like someone had just moved the finish line after a marathon.
I didn't know where the finish line was anymore.
People ask me how much more chemo I have, I tell them I'm likely to be on it for life, prompting nervous laughs.
'Chemo is tough, I put myself through to stay alive'
Mentally chemo is tough.
It takes all the willpower I have to drag myself into a chair every other week, knowing how rubbish the drugs will make me feel.
I lose my ability to speak, I feel sick, I shake, I feel generally screwed over.
But I put myself through it because I want to live.
I want to throw the kitchen sink at this cancer, and come floating back up.
Hands up, the last few months have been hard.
My body is beaten from the nuclear drugs and the side effects are getting worse and worse.
My body needs a break and so does my mind.
'A year of chemo, 21 cycles DONE and finally it's over, for now'
And then it happened.
As I rocked up last Friday, like I do every other Friday, a nurse said to me: "So you're here for your last chemo of this regime today?"
EXCUSE ME?! Did someone just say that?
I mean I've talked with my oncologist about getting to this point and then deciding the next plan of action, but suddenly I realised, that point had arrived.
It was this unexpected magical moment I hadn't let myself plan for.
After my drugs had been administered, I walked out without an appointment for my next chemo session.
'I was nervous I'd jinx it by celebrating'
It feels weird. At first I didn't want to celebrate.
I mean the stats say I'm going to be back on another regime soon enough, knowing my luck.
I don't want to jinx anything.
I hate the idea of a big "thank you", and then ending up back in the chair to do it all again.
I just got a stable scan, but I know I can fall off the cliff at anytime, I have stage 4 cancer.
Next up, it's ablation. That means doctors will try to burn away some of the tumours in my lungs over the course of a couple of ops.
And then it's back to waiting and seeing what happens next.
'But, it's important to remind ourselves how kickarse we can be'
But, I have a window. Yes, it's a small one but I've made it to this point.
And for that I should celebrate.
So I did, wine in hand and with my babies of course.
It's not the celebration I dream of everyday, but it's important we take stock to feel proud and recognise all we have been through.
It's important to remind ourselves just how kickarse we can be!
It's celebrating the small things that really matter in life, not just looking for the big, grand gestures.
It's not about lowering expectations, but being realistic when cancer is coming at you, full steam ahead.
It's recognising that just because there may not be a clear finish line in sight, every mile you cover is a goal reached, and a cause to celebrate.
MORE THINGS CANCER MADE ME SAY
'Celebrate every step that gets you closer to your dream end goal'
So, pat yourself on the back, if you're like me buy that new lippy and have a glass of wine.
Whether it's in celebration of your first cycle of chemo, your last, being a year down the line, or 10.
Whether it's walking after an operation, or just getting the first good night's sleep, acknowledge your achievements in getting that far.
It may not be the big milestone you want to be celebrating, but each small step will get you closer to that dream.
Come join the I’d love to hear from you about #thethingscancermademesay.
Tell me your journey, show off your scars, share what keeps you smiling, or how you are giving two fat fingers to cancer (or anything else for that matter!)
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