Passing Cloud

All Kinds of Magic

I’ve been in hiding for the last few days…I’ve felt like I’ve needed some down-time and an opportunity to reflect on a couple of things. Last week was the two year marker on the colonoscopy that identified my primary bowel cancer, and the CT scan that revealed the secondary liver metastasis. Most days I can hardly believe what has happened over the last two years. Sometimes I still can’t get my head around the fact that I have a terminal illness.  I think about dying pretty much every hour of the day. I wonder how quickly my body will deteriorate and I fear for an unknown level of discomfort and pain. I remember asking my oncologist this time last year how I would die - my main concern was that the lung tumours would grow so huge in size that I would struggle to breathe. She told me that it was most likely my liver would give up first and that when it was time, I would simply ‘slip off’ into a deep sleep and not wake up again. I can still hear her voice telling me those words - every day.

In the last two years, I’ve heard other cancer patients say that they’re not afraid of what happens to them, they’re afraid of what they’re leaving behind. I too am more fearful for those I will leave behind. But I will admit, I am afraid of what happens to me. I am scared of dying. I’m really really terrified.

So, because of the time of year, and because of being reminded that it is now two years that I’ve been trying to treat my disease in the hope of being cured, I feel I dwell on how it all began even more than ever.
Every week the newspapers are full of health stories - people sharing their experiences or a journalist writes of a new ‘wonder cure’ that is often based on 0% scientific evidence. I’m finding it all a bit tiring now…
I’m just not a fan of all the negative energy.

I was 19 when I first started to visit GP’s about my symptoms. For four years I was told I had irritable bowel syndrome. During this time my cancer was growing and spreading. While I was at university, I had cancer and I didn’t even know. I was in constant abdominal pain, I was passing a lot of blood, I was bloated like a hot air balloon…and every time I went back crying for help, I was ignored. Being fobbed off by people who are paid an insane amount of money to identify what the problem might be, and them failing to take me seriously, has cost me my life. I could be angry about that. I could scream and shout and rant and rave and tell the world in every newspaper known to man until I’m blue in the face…and it ain’t gonna give me my life back. I can’t go back in time, I can’t undo what’s already happened. All I’d like to think is that somewhere, someone who has had similar symptoms will persist to be taken seriously by their doctor.

Sometimes I wonder if it is possible to think so much that you actually end up going mad. Perhaps I already have?

Aside from all the thinking and the over analyzing and the philosophical pondering, I’ve been feeling more at ease now that my shoulder pain appears to have vanished. I’ve spent the last 3 months hobbling about the house with heat packs etc trying to combat the pain. Even my opiate patches haven’t given it any relief. BUT, apparently for the first time in months, it’s decided to give me a break! So, those trial drugs better be doing some good in there!

The rest of the week will be a series of appointments and tests in preparation for next weeks treatment - cycle 2. It’s come around quickly, but I still feel dedicated to continuation of the trial. It could be doing all kinds of magic! who knows.