I’m back! 

Hello, it’s me again. You might have thought I’d stopped blogging as it’s been a while. But I’m not going anywhere. As I have said before, the times I will blog will change as I continue to progress on the cancer train. 

So where am I now? I’m 36 years old. I continue to work full time as a primary school teacher, and I remain a long standing resident of the cancer world. I have been living in it long enough that I seem to occasionally make the odd joke about it now. Shows how comfortable I am getting. 

I would urge people to remember that residents of the cancer world might seem fine, but we don’t often show you what we’re feeling on the inside. That is cancer survivor mode for you. Just take a moment to remember that we don’t really move on but we learn to live with the pain, heartache, fear and perpetual worry. 

My life has taken so many twists and turns since that dark, scary day in 2016 when I heard the words: ‘You’ve got cancer.’ My family has grown, I continue to flourish in my job and my cancer diagnosis has allowed me to meet incredible people and do incredible things. 

I live fully in the knowledge that my cancer train could continue to see bumps along the way, and I would be lying if I said that this isn’t scary and sometimes hard to manage. But in those tougher times you remind yourself the best way of dealing with  living on a cancer train is survivor mode and celebrating every day. Every clear scan is more time to be me, to embrace life, to enjoy and love my family and continue to help other people. 

I think that’s why I approach life with the attitude that you have to cherish every experience and do all the things that you want to do because you don’t quite know when it will be taken away. I don’t let anything  or anybody hold me back. Whilst this is a mantra that we could all live by, it feels that little bit more real when you live your life in the cancer world and have been forced to get up close and personal with the idea of dying twice. I’ve come to terms with living in that world. You don’t ever really have the chance to stop living in that world when your cancer has re-occurred. 

I think that’s why I  enjoy talking to other patients as I wait in the waiting room every two months to be reviewed for the  next two months of my medication. It is comforting to speak to others going through different treatments. It’s also why the friendships I have made with other people with diagnosis are so key. They get it. They understand. Together we don’t feel so alone.

Bumps and hurdles are not just the fear of cancer returning. I never thought that we would get point of my oncologist discussing the possibility of coming off my medication. It was only something I dreamt of. But I never imagined this conversation would be one of the hardest I have had on my cancer journey so far. 

Here’s the dilemma:  off my daily medication with the uncertainty of what might happen in terms of ovarian cancer, or remain on my medication in the knowledge that my pills could one day cause leukaemia. The doctor does not have the answers. They can tell me that it’s really positive that nothing has reared its ugly head whilst being on the medication for the last five years. But they don’t have a crystal ball. They don’t know if it’s the pills that are keeping it at bay. This it without a doubt the hardest choice I have had to make. If I came off the medication and my ovarian cancer returned, I would regret my decision to stop taking them. If I stayed on my pills and found myself fighting leukaemia, I’d be so angry at myself for not stopping. It’s like a battle that can’t be won. 

For now I remain safe on my pills. I keep the possibility of stopping in the back of my mind, but I’m not there. I would have to be ready and sure before I took that leap. My pills are my safety blanket because I know that it is a daily dose of magic that has got me this far after having the first recurrence. When I have a side effect, I don’t let it take me down. I just think of the bigger picture. 

And as if that wasn’t enough, a pesky lymph node has been presenting in a slightly different way, which resulted in me having to have more regular scans. The medical team, who I view as extension of my own family, explained to me that they just had to keep an eye on it. This is because they needed to ensure it was in fact a benign. That doesn’t stop your mind running away with you and thinking of the worst case scenario. Thankfully, they are now confident it is just a benign lymph node so three monthly scans have gone back to six monthly. That doesn’t stop your mind running away and thinking of the worst case scenario. I found my ways to deal with it. These included building lego and late night cleaning! Both things kept the fear, pain and tears at bay. At the next hurdle I encounter, I will bring these out of my tool box of strategies, full well in the knowledge that they might not work again, and I have to find another tool. That’s the nature of the cancer world and all that it brings with it.

I know I’m safe with the Marsden team and they will always be the ones who mastermind incredible ways to help me keep on living. I could sit each day and feel sad and think, why me? But at the end of the day, why not me? Cancer doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t care how old you are, what your name is or where you’re from. It could get any one of us. It’s true that there are really ugly days. There are days where I get cross and where I struggle, but I put my heart and soul into life and try to enjoy every element of it. I am now blessed to do that and be able to call myself a mummy. I sometimes never thought that would happen and sometimes have to pinch myself and remind myself that it is real. My son is a gift and a blessing. I look forward to seeing him grow and to help him to understand the importance of embracing every element of life and doing the things that make him happy. He has bought so much light onto my cancer train. Introducing him to the important people in my medical team was a hugely emotional moment. It reminded me of how far I have come and was a moment to celebrate where I have got to. The girl who was handed a terrifying diagnosis is defying pessimistic surivival statistics or, more accurately, she’s sticking two fingers up at those statistics.

So I continue riding on my cancer train. Yes, it’s scary. But it’s also exciting because everything I’ve been through and continue to go through has shown me that life is for living. I now get to pass that knowledge on to my beautiful little boy.