And there we go. 18 months done. I saw the lovely Dr N again on Tuesday. After scaring her about being written about in this here blog (Hi!), she examined me and we chatted about Centre Parcs and compared Mulberry bags, and then she said that my Moo looked good apart from some scar tissue, but otherwise a-ok.
But we already knew that didn’t we. This was a ‘phoney’ appointment afterall.
Another thing that Dr N did though was make me cry. Well, not intentionally, and she didn’t pinch me or anything but we were chatting and I burst into tears. Call it the culmination of 10 days of anxiety, call it not having your rock with you (Pete lost his card in an ATM so then couldn’t get money out to get a train so couldn’t come up. He later found his card in his wallet, the numpty), call it whatever. But, cry I did.
I cried because I’m stressed out with work and simultaneously bored. I cried because I’m trying so hard to lose weight but I still look like an oestrogen bloated lump. I cried because I’m sad. I cried because I’m just down.
It could be hormones (most definitely is part of it) or it could be just hitting me now what I’ve been through.
Dr N and I agreed that counselling is the way to go and a review of my hormones. Maybe a step back from work (yea right!).
As soon as she said it, I knew I had to talk to someone.
I need to get this out. I need to get out of my head with a complete stranger and talk it alllllll out. Family and friends are fab but I often try to hide most of it for fear of terrifying them.
I had counselling when I was being treated (remember steroid rage? Jaysus, THAT was interesting) but we need to focus on the future now and my change in path.
I spoke with the wonderful Phillippa (a great oncology nurse and has been with me through everything) and she is going to refer me to a cancer psychologist. I kept her talking for 20 minutes so I know I need to get this out now. If you can call sobbing and snotting ‘chatting’.
I might be 18 months down after treatment, but I guess it never really ends.
I have a long way to go and I need to address my sadness, my guilt and take hold of my future. I need to look after myself a bit better.
No one suits relapses.
And Dr N told me to be kind to myself.
One thing at a time Doc.
Thank you, each and every one of you for your unrelenting love and support.
It means more than you’ll ever know.
And in case you didn’t see it…
Here’s to dealing with it. Cheers.