At the beginning of all this- cancer, I mean- I used to
be so horrible to everyone around me. Like, so selfish and nasty and would snap
at everyone and get really annoyed if I didn't get what I wanted. I was particularly horrible to family and friends (my folks, mostly) and I do regret that. But I hope that they know it wasn't me. Well, it was. But it wasn't- if you see what I mean.
I think cancer can do that to a person. I was just so
angry at what had happened, so angry that I had lost EVERYTHING- so angry that
I now saw some things that I was perfectly fine with before, but suddenly
didn't accept. I don't think I ever stop to think what other people were losing
around me, or by acting so pathetically that I was causing them to lose ME.
Then when I was given the all clear for the second time,
I had this strange sensation that I was missing something. That I wasn't ready
to let go of the cancer, that I had lived with it for what had seemed an age
and it was MINE, that it defined me. I remember crying, crying because it was
over but also crying because I wanted it back. None of the horrible parts obviously,
like the infections or the pain or the sickness and definitely not the fatigue-
but cancer somehow gave me purpose. Like I had something to fight/fight for
suddenly. Well, until I got a chest pain one afternoon in school and then the
paranoia that I would have to do it all over again kicked in. Didn't love the
cancer so much after THAT.
I suppose when I was re-diagnosed, I had this panic that
I would be exactly how I was before and lose friends because of it (actually, turns
out having cancer loses you friends anyway, no matter how you try to be nice)
or that I would not actually be able to fight it and forever be known as the
girl who was horrible right before she kicked it from cancer. That's why I
decided to be better, to try to think of other people and get out more rather
than lying on the sofa feeling utterly sorry for myself. It was sort of like a
do-over of my cancer experience. I mean, I hated having cancer half the time;
the infections, the agony, the staring in the street, the hair loss, all of it
was horrific and I wouldn't ever wish it upon anyone or ever go through it
again- but it's part of me now, and I'm glad I acted like I did the second time
round (for the most part). Cancer doesn't define me, but it did make me who I
am now. Hopefully that's a better person, a nicer person, but only time against
number of friends will tell that (joking). Right now, in this moment, among
every other moment from now on, I feel like I can fully live without my cancer.
Not without my 'cancer friends' that I met along the way, or without remembering
what it was like, or how I got through it, but just without that tumour and
without the chemo. It seems strange saying how I can FINALLY live withOUT it,
but I think that any way of life becomes normal if you live it long enough- and
although it's nice being better, truthfully I miss some of the days where I
only had to worry that I wasn't going to make it home from chemo in time to
watch the Kardashians, or that my biggest stress was that I had slept through
Made In Chelsea while in hospital and they don't have catch up TV. And I know
that they weren't my only worries- like I had the 'will the neuropathy come
back' or 'will I be sick with this one' or 'will I be in pain forever' or even
the 'will I die' at some points, but all of them seemed normal to me, and
getting back to normal life is much harder than leaving it, I've found.
I'm glad I'm getting back now. It's nice, it's like
coming home after a long trip and being jet lagged and knowing you have to
unpack all the suitcases is overwhelmingly stressful but you're happily tired
because nothing can take away the fact that you're HOME.
In the words of Gloria Gaynor, I WILL Survive.
Love to you all (or whatever is left of you), Befuddled
<3
P.S- I wrote this at 3am so please don't take any of what
it says to be anything less than my subconscious rambling about the silliest
things. Much Love, B x
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