Anniversaries as we know them tend to be occasions to mark and celebrate something joyous, or at least that’s what I use to think. But what I’ve discovered is that once you been through a life changing trauma, anniversaries serve as an awful reminder.
Today, the 28th of August is an anniversary for me. One I wish I could forget but has haunted me for exactly two years, the day I was told I had cancer. I still remember it like it was yesterday. I remember when I was given the diagnosis, I remember the excruciating walk out of hospital, I remember phoning Ade from the car – the hardest phone call I have ever had to make and I remember breaking down like I have never broken down in my life. I remember going to my parents house to break the news to them that evening, I remember the look on their faces and I swear I could hear the sound of their hearts breaking. To this day I can remember every single detail and sometimes when I close my eyes, I’m forced to relive it and feel that same pain all over again.
There’s a common misconception that if you’re as lucky as me, you come through and all is good again, but this awful disease leaves a legacy that you never get over. It’s like a death of a loved one, you never get over the trauma, it becomes easier to live and deal with. I’m ok now, I have my moments, mainly due to the consequences of the treatment I’ve had, but I’m handling it much better than I thought I ever would. But for my family, particularly my parents, it has taken much longer. My mum has been so strong and she still does so much for me to make sure I’m not overdoing things despite the fact I’m working full time and I’m back to being active – she treats me as if I’m made of glass. My dad still blames himself for my illness. It’s so irrational and off course it’s not his fault at all, I was just unlucky but I understand why he feels the way he does. Cancer doesn’t discriminate, it doesn’t matter if you’ve been a bad person or a saint all your life, it will get you if it wants to. But for someone like my dad, he struggled with the ‘why me’, he needed a reason as to why I was the one who got ill. I remember the day after I told my parents, I was admitted to Accident & Emergency at Southend Hospital, my dad came into my room and broke down, he kept saying that he had been a bad father and that he shouldn’t have disciplined me as a child, he should’ve been nicer to me and paid more attention to me. It broke my heart to hear him say that and to see that he believed what he was saying. I had an amazing childhood with the best parents anyone could have, but this is the nature of such an evil disease, it didn’t just screw me, it screwed my family as well.
It’s taken a while, but two years on, I have beaten cancer. I’m in a much better place now with a better outlook on life. My family although scarred, have recovered too. The ghosts are still there but we’ve all learnt to accept that they will never completely go away. I’ve just got over a nasty chest infection (turned up just after I got over the Shingles) and I feel fantastic. I had my best pool session in over two years, and I’m on course to do my first post-cancer triathlon next week. At the end of September, I should be exorcising the ghost that is the Ealing half marathon – the event that I had to withdraw from in 2012 as I was having my first ever chemotherapy treatment.
So, although this is an anniversary I wish I could forget, it’s here to stay but I’ve marked it by being “normal” (don’t laugh). I went to work today, I had a great session in the pool and I’m ALIVE!
As usual, I’m finishing this entry off with a few photos, but not before I thank my amazing family and friends for getting me through the last two years. Special thanks to my husband Ade for being with me every step of the way, to the donor who gave me a second chance by selflessly donating their stem cells to me, for my employers at the BBC for having faith that I would recover and return to work, and also my personal trainer for helping rebuild my strength, fitness and confidence.