21 months

On the 23rd October 2012 I had an MRI which unfortunately showed that I did indeed have a fuckwit and actually, it was a big bugger.

On the 8th July 2014 I had another MRI that would show that fuckwit (and any other hangers-on) had gone and left me with (after extensive treatment) a designer va Jay Jay.

Today Dr Powell, gave me the chance to look at that first scan. And then I was able to see it beside my most recent scan. It helped prove to myself that I’ve overcome so very much, actually, huge amounts, in such a short space of time. That means so much to me, in a period in my life where I’m doubting everything (and I mean everything) I do from the how I’m living my life to how I deal with an email.

I have accomplished something along with an amazing medical team who saved my life.

21 months is nothing. I’m baby terms it is the precipice of the terrible twos. In project terms, it’s the crux of hard work, culminating.
In Cancer terms, its mammoth. It’s a big hairy, wooly mammoth. It’s proving you got through that ridiculously bleak time and through to the other side.

But as I go through each review, I truly feel that the real treatment for the Cancer that destroyed so much is actually happening now. At times, I actually wish I was having the daily trek to radiotherapy or the underlining nausea from that platinum chemo as I dealt with that way better than the dealing with the compelling urge to carry another child or the fact that my Cancer can return.

21 months? Smashed it. Life? Let’s try again. And again. And again.

I’ll spare you a picture of the inner workings of my vagina, but if you did want to see what I beat, let me know 😉

Thank you so very much for all your support, as always, and for the pictures and texts and messages. What a lovely bunch you are x

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Purple Power

Today I asked for some help.
I asked my army to step up and to give me good vibes, prayers and thoughts.

I then went one step further and asked you all to wear something purple. In my head, seeing all those pictures of people wearing purple just for me, spurred me on.

I sat in a tiny office today and Dr Powell’s Registrar, lets call him Dr Awesomesauce, told me (3 times no less) that the scan showed ‘no cancer activity’. Fuckwit wasn’t seen. It’s disappeared.

They couldn’t confirm that a white flag been left.

The nitty gritty of it all is, and I quote, ‘it’s responded excellently to treatment and no activity is shown on the scan, but we will closely monitor you every 3 months’.
I’ve not stopped crying. Every call I’ve made, every text I sent since finding out I’ve just balled my eyes out.

I think we’re still in shock. I feel like I’ve won the lottery. I keep expecting to wake up.

I walked out into that corridor and I screamed like mad. It just had to get out.

I can’t even begin to thank you all. I don’t know where to start. I looked at my phone today and all I saw was a sea of purple.
You will never know how much I feel loved and supported by every single one of you.
I love you all and thank you, thank you, thank you for your continued support.

Now you can have some home leave soldiers, I’ll expect you back here in 3 months for some more purple power.

I am always looking for more recruits…if you don’t sign up, I’m setting this little one on to you…

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6 Months

Exactly 6 months to the day, I was given the worst possible news I ever thought I’d hear.
It turned out to be the start of a such a life changing and heart hurting weekend.

Today, 6 months since I was diagnosed with cervical cancer, I will be having my 3-months post treatment check.
At the weekend we have a family wedding which is something which we are all looking forward to.
I am so desperate to make this weekend a billion times better than that weekend 6 months ago.

Help me out here.
Think of me, of us.
If you have faith in your God, pray for me.
If you have a lucky charm (although not the cereal) give it a nod/wink/rub for me.
Wishing works too.

I love you all for sticking by me these past few months.

Give it all you’ve got now, Army!

Dear Fuckwit

Dear Fuckwit,

So here we are.

Today we are going to see you

Actually, we’re hoping we don’t see you.
In my head, I’m hoping what they find is a little Osama-esque degenerate, fucked off its been found out in his cave but somehow it knows it been caught so just gives up.

Give it up Fuckwit. The search teams are out today.

Don’t mistake these tears I’m shedding or my hand shaking as I write this, as a sign of weakness, for you would be so wrong.
It’s only proving how determined I am to rid you, once and for all.

Never under estimate the quiet ones, for they have the biggest army behind them.

And they are coming to get you.

4 (5) Week Check

Today I had my 4 (5) week check.
The lovely Dr Powell was her ever amazing self.

Dr P: The last time I saw you, you was crying.
Fran: Those were tears of relief!
Dr P: Well, you look really well, how you feeling?
F: I’m feeling pretty good actually.

And I do feel pretty good. If I actually think about it, I already feel better than I did before I was diagnosed. Amazing.

Dr P has given me the go ahead to start swimming, dye my hair, travel…if I needed to and assured me that any other niggles I had will eventually disapate.

Now the bit you all want to know about… Fuckwit.

I’ve already got some adhesions which Dr P broke down but I really need to start work on the dilating. Dagnabit.

From the last time she came face to face with Fuckwit during brachytherapy she told me it has shrunk further. I’m still sore internally from radiotherapy and will be for another couple of weeks.

She walked out of the examination room and told Pete ‘Yep, it’s all going in the right direction’

And that’s good enough for me.

MRI in 8 weeks and back for 3 month check at the beginning of May.

And breathe….

…And Many More…

This is pretty much my life right now….

Tea? Check. Mac? Check. Cape? Check

Tea? Check. Mac? Check. Cape? Check

The lovely @luckylauraQ asked me:

I didn’t know you pre-fuckwit, but I wondered how it changed your body image? Do you see your body as having a different function now & do you feel differently towards it?

Good question Laura. I shall answer it through my birthday letter to me…

Dear Frannie,

Today you turn 29. At 21.05 tonight, you will officially be in your last year of your twenties.

When you look back on what you wanted to accomplish by this age you’ve done pretty much everything you set out. You wanted to be married to a lovely man, you wanted a baby, you wanted to be successful in your career.

Two out of three aint bad…you’re working on the last one now.

6 months ago, this date was filling you with dread. You were in a job that just about paid the bills, with an apprehension over you about some health concerns, the last thing you wanted to think about was your birthday and *gulp* getting older.

But 3 small months ago you were delivered news that at that moment in time questioned whether you would even reach your 30th birthday.

Sudden that little number didn’t seem so scary.

It actually became a goal to reach.

All your life you have tormented yourself about your body.
You’ve ranged from size 6 as a teenager to at your biggest, a size 14.
You are now a comfortable size 12.

I can’t believe it took being told you had Cancer to make you realise that actually, your body is awesome. It defied odds and carried a baby to term, it dealt with horrendous pain and turmoil every month.

And now?

Well now, its beating Cancer. It’s taking control over something which is imposing. The stupid fuckwit.
You lost 22 pounds in a very short time and admitedly, you wouldn’t wanted to have lost it in this way, but it’s given you the boost you needed to accept the new shape you have.

Proud of the pooch

Proud of the pooch

You have a little tummy pooch, which will probably always be there.
A reminder of the trauma it went through to make sure you see your 30th birthday, but more importantly the roundness to prove you did in fact carry a baby.
If the toddler playing on your Mac wasn’t enough proof already…

Mama? Issa mac, yea?

Mama? Issa mac, yea?

But I am proud of you. You have given up your hang ups with your body.
As your blog proves, you are not ashamed to explore your body and the problems you have had. Being more aware of your body made you realise there was a problem in the first place.

Well done for listening to it.

Today you turned 29. You’ve got a few more wrinkles round the eyes. You have a constant ringing in your ears from the chemo nerve damage and your left hand still gets pins and needles from the sheer volume of canulas and needle pricks.

But you’d take it all again if it meant you got to see your 30th birthday.

I hope you can see all the love out there for you. People from all around the world have been reading your blog, spurring you on, keeping an eye on you.

Remember this in the times when it gets hard to bear.
You might not have any more children, you will go through the menopause and you might have a few more stumbling blocks to go through with your cancer journey, but there is someone out there, who is rooting for you.
And it’s not just the lovely Man on the sofa with you.

Today you turned 29. You have realised that you are an individual person, with your own opinions and views and you are now not afraid to express them.
You are sharing your writing, which is in itself a massive V-flick to Cancer.
Cancer likes the quiet and dark. You are bringing it out of its comfort zone showing it up for the coward it is.

Cancer is the coward. Not you.

Today you turned 29. Next year you will be 30. Lets show everyone how many more birthday’s you are going to celebrate.

Happy Birthday Frannie. And I wish you many, many more.

Never stop laughing like this. Ever.

Never stop laughing like this. Ever.

Second chance

Sitting on a train into work, headphones in, iPhone out.

I look just like the other commuters. Hum drum expression, a sneer at the slow moving cattle truck.

Against advice I’m back at work. No money unless I’m back. I’m not back, not really. I’m might be there physically but not mentally and my body certainly isn’t ready for this drudgery.

Outwardly I look ok, subtle make up helps.

I don’t want this. I want more. I want more for my family. I want them proud I’ve gone back to work for something other than that I had to.

It’s like the last couple of months haven’t happened.

But it did happen, it was the hardest months of my life.

I have an idea. I have a couple of ideas. I need to get them into life and stop being just ideas.

How can I do this, can I do this, of course I can do this.

I am not going to waste this second chance.

I will not let cancer take away anymore from me.