For the last few weeks I’ve been attempted to recover from treatment-related anemia. It’s not uncommon, and someone (including me) should probably have seen it coming, but I certainly didn’t. I haven’t been feeling well for some time, but I couldn’t accept being sick again. I just felt tired; everyone feels tired sometimes, right? So I worked through it until I started losing my balance and was so light-headed I had trouble concentrating. My doctor’s response, after seeing my blood test results, was: “Oh crap.”
Denial is an amazing thing; there may be no force more powerful.
But that said, in the last few weeks I’ve started to really come to terms with cancer. Easy to say: it appears to be well behind me now (just had my 6 month all-clear). I’ve gone through periods of cursing my body for doing this to me, for allowing this to happen, for creating cancer in me. But lately I’ve been turning around on that.
My body found that group of malignant cells before any doctor ever did. And when it found them it started coating the in stone to keep them away from me, to keep me safe. My bod deserves a pat on the back for that.
Things other than my tumour that are 1.5cm: