One year on

Today is my 'Cancerversary' it's exactly one year to the day since I was diagnosed with breast cancer.  I have felt emotional about this recently, going over the memories of that day when I got the news.  I knew I would feel this way, I could feel it bubbling under the surface for a while now, since the summer finished and November approached.

I decided the only way to combat the feelings is to turn this day on it's head and celebrate, this time last year I didn't know the extent of my cancer, I didn't know if it was curable or incurable, I didn't know if I would still be alive right now.  Even in the last year whilst having treatment I actually thought twice about buying a 2014 diary, I wasn't sure whether to waste £70 getting my passport renewed. But here I am, still standing after 6 months of treatment, sometimes it feels so surreal, like it all happened to somebody else.

A few months ago I met Sarah, a brilliant woman who writes the best blogs about what it's like to experience a cancer diagnosis as a young person.  I'll quote directly as she describes it so perfectly:

It's "Not a journey. Not a rollercoaster. It's a whirlwind. 

It's unstable, turbulent, dangerous, damaging. You'd like to think that there is some sort of predictability to what will go on, some sort of pattern, but actually the whole experience is very unpredictable. And the whirlwind itself is accompanied by various other storms too. Your world, that you spent your life building and creating, is suddenly ripped apart. It happens out of the blue, and fast. Before you've even had chance to comprehend that a whirlwind just struck, you're seeing a ground zero in the place that used to be your world....

So now you have a choice. Sit around, helplessly looking at the mess, mourning everything you lost. Or, occasional meltdown and tantrum aside, take it as an opportunity to build a fucking ace new world. (I am going with the latter. Obvs.)

Rebuilding is a big job, hard work, takes time, and of course there are points when you're tired, in pain and overwhelmed. (That's when you need those friends with the first aid kits, blankets and cups of tea.) But it's also a really exciting challenge. You get to create a new world. One you can design from scratch, that is perfect for you, that you love to be in. It will be stronger than the last one - you've learned from experience that whirlwinds can strike so you can be much better prepared for any future storms. It will be fit for purpose - you have a much clearer sense of what you want from life and what is and isn't needed for that. Most importantly it will be a beautiful and welcoming world with plenty of room in it for all the other people that you know will make it even brighter, warmer, happier. 

As for yourself... A few scars. A few lessons learned. A bit stronger. A clearer perspective. A bit more faith in yourself. A lot of love for a lot of people. A precious life... and this time with an understanding of just how precious it is"

You can read the whole of Sarah's Blog post here, she writes some brilliant stuff.

So today I'm celebrating life, and love, and family, and being alive. Tonight I'll be with my sisters, parents, nieces and brother in law; drinking champagne and setting off fireworks. Living in the moment, appreciating every hug, every smile, every tear.  Having been faced with my own mortality I am now incredibly grateful, grateful that my treatment has been successful, grateful for everyone in my life who has helped me through it, grateful to simply wake up every morning.  I don't know how many more times I'm going to get the opportunity to celebrate 11th November, so I'm going to make this one count!