The transition from 23:59pm December 31st to 00:00am January 1st, was an emotional one. We saw in the New Year as a couple, with a quiet home cooked meal, a sofa and the London Fireworks on TV. I'm not one for attaching unwarranted significance to ordinary events and I didn't feel particularly sentimental earlier in the evening. With my active treatment finished in August 2018 and my Herceptin not scheduled to finish until March 2019, there are no changes in my cancer treatment around New Year. Music and fireworks, however, are a powerful combination for creating a sense of occasion and as the BBC display came to a climax and the gongs of Big Ben rang out from our TV screen, it suddenly felt significant, the end of my year with cancer. I surprised myself when tears rained at midnight. My logical mind believed the occasion did not warrant them, but I embraced the tears anyway because crying has amazing healing powers and I welcomed the release of some emotional tension.
After the excitement of Christmas and the unexpected sentiment of New Year, the first week of January has felt like a bit of a trudge. There are several reasons for this and none of them are very compelling ones.
1. I caught a cold on the first day of the holidays, I eventually began to feel a little better, then immediately caught another! For a cancer survivor, I'm surprisingly wimpy and grumpy about colds!
2. Christmas is my favourite holiday and when its finally over, I always get the post holiday blues.
3. The jammed packed Christmas schedule has meant a holiday of not managing my fatigue very well. I have swung wildly between doing too much and crashing with exhaustion.
4. Dave went back to work on 2nd Jan and due to my fatigue, I struggled to find the energy and motivation to do fun stuff with the kids, cue massive mum guilt.
5. I had planned to keep up my half marathon training over the holidays, but I haven't done any running at all. First week of January, when I tried to run, it showed.
My list of complaints isn't really any different to anyone else's at this time of year.
The annoyance of the cold, the sadness of Christmas ending, the frustration of fatigue, the guilt of not being supermum, the disappointment of not managing to run; individually they seem small, almost petty, but together they brought me down quite low. I felt despondent by the end of the first week of January, but I had faith that the emotions would naturally come to pass, I wasn't too worried that a couple of low days was going to stretch into a period of depression. Aware that exhaustion makes everything feel worse, I indulged my bad mood and stayed in my PJs until noon, it was Sunday after all! My husband skilfully managed to persuade me, that a shower and a walk with the kids might help lift my spirits, so I dragged myself to the shower.
It was during that shower I found a proper reason to be grumpy; I found a changed mole on my ribcage. I knew that a change in size, shape or colour of a mole can indicate melanoma and this mole had all three of these changes. I sobbed in the shower. I showed Dave, he agreed it looked worrying; I cried some more. I got on the internet and started researching; I cried some more. (Google is both friend and foe in these circumstances!) I vented on social media and then, finally, I went for a walk with my family. It didn't lift my spirits!
The following day I went to the doctor, to have confirmed what I already knew, the changes in my mole are red flags for melanoma and do qualify me for an urgent referral to the hospital. The lovely GP did tell me about a benign condition which presents very similarly to melanoma and hopefully that is what I have. This gave me something new and less alarming to google! Still, I can't deny that facing another wait to find out if I have cancer or not, is bloody scary.
Knowing what to expect, knowing that the waiting is the hardest part, doesn't make the waiting any easier. Cancer is never far from my mind, but for the first 2 days after finding that mole, it consumed every thought and tainted every minute. What I have learned this year, which has been useful this week, is the power of accepting my emotions. Accepting my unwarranted grumpiness rather than taunting and berating myself, allowed me to keep those feelings in perspective. Accepting the fear and anger and grief that came after finding the mole instead of fighting, hiding or pushing those negative emotions down helps too. It doesn't make the feelings go away, but it makes them seem more manageable; fighting your own emotions is exhausting and fruitless.
I went back to work today, and because I'm a teacher, my job is capable of engaging 100% of my attention. Today I've had a lovely 8 hour break from thinking about cancer and I'm now feeling ok this evening. The grump has lifted, the fear has subsided to background noise and for now, I feel more like me again. Regarding my mole, what will be will be. If I get cancer again, I won't be #inspirational or #brave, I will be pissed off and gutted and scared. I do have confidence, however, that I have the emotional resilience to cope with what ever lies ahead.
Fingers Crossed!
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