Friday, 16 March 2018

Molehills and mountains

Well it's been nearly two and a half years since I was diagnosed as having "months not years" to live on 21st October 2015.

The many mountains I have climbed (metaphorically speaking, I am a rubbish walker) have been well documented on this blog. So this post is dedicated to the myriad molehills that I have overcome since that momentous day. The little but ordinary things that make me feel 'normal'. Here are five of them...

1. I finally lifted my two-year-long self-imposed photography ban. I have not only appeared in photos, I have also initiated the capturing of my normal-sized head in a selfie. This was long overdue as Dean's new colleagues were convinced that I was too grotesque to be captured on film, kept out of sight in a dungeon or even worse, that I was entirely fictional.

2. I have had a bad hair day. Well, a few actually. My post-cancer hair looks fantastic when I've just 'stepped out of the salon'. However, I wake up in the morning looking like an 80s tribute act and on occasion, have terrified the postman.

3. I have thrown away the crocheted hat that I used to wear whilst I had no hair (exacerbated by a face the size of a small planet). Wigs and migraines proved to be a pretty horrible combination, so I bought some fake hair from the Cancer Centre and my wonderful friend Lucy made some silk hats and attached the long blonde fake hair. Amazing!
Me with a bald head, a wonderful hand-made silk hat and fake hair from the Cancer Centre.

Disclaimer: Not actually me. My face was twice this size.


 4. I no longer attract sympathetic looks. There's a subtle, but noticeable reaction that a person who is unusual in some way evokes (a bald head, a head-scarf, massive cheeks etc.). It's a double-take combined with a dose of curiosity and a pinch of sympathy. This is multiplied by ten if it's someone you know but hasn't seen you lately. There's a shock phase, then an embarrassment phase and then an over-exaggerated trying-to-hide-your-horror phase. Now, it's a more favourable "don't you look well?" comment, unless I've just come back from a run and I'm red-faced and huffing and puffing with the exertion.

5. One molehill I still struggle with is cancer advertising. I think that cancer gives you an empathy booster switch and I can't watch a cancer ad or programme without crying my eyes out. I watched Stand Up 2 Cancer's celebrity bake-off including Bill Turnbull, knowing that his cancer had spread, but also that he didn't know about it at the time of filming. In the video at the end, he was so lovely about his family and endearingly candid about the spread of his life-limiting cancer, inspiring others to act rather than ignore their symptoms.

So, if you're suffering from cancer and have a huge climb ahead, just be assured that it's amazing on the other side, and that you too will soon bemoan the multiple molehills of normal life! And, if you have any unusual changes to your body, speak to your GP. Early detection of cancer gives you a significantly better chance of recovering from this hideous disease and getting back to a gloriously normal life.

Amanda




3 comments:

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  2. Enjoyed reading this. Thanks.

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