Monthly Archives: March 2020

I Wage War

Lower back pain & intermittent bleeding
Struggling to justify these peculiar feelings
Weeks turn to months, the time has come
I visit my doctor to see what can be done.

The plethora of questions and additional tests,
A hospital referral to meet a specialist is best
Scans begin – PET, MRI and CT
I start to panic – what is really wrong with me?

It’s not long until they discover the answer.
“Sit down” she said “I’m afraid you have cancer”
“You’ve got it wrong! I’m 27 & worry free.
There is no way this is happening to me!”

Revealing the news is the hardest part
I feel like I’m breaking my family’s heart.
I want to protect them & somehow assure
But regrettably – for cancer there isn’t a cure.

A treadmill of appointments pick up pace
The treatment plan is put in place.
Chemotherapy, Radiotherapy and Bracytherapy too.
How do I prepare for the hell I’m going through?

Physically exhausted, deep breathing, I’m traumatised.
Yet somehow I’m still standing – I’m beyond surprised.
Scanxiety returns. Awaiting results, a vicious tease.
I can’t believe my oncologist when she says ‘No evidence of disease!’

Let’s party! Champagne! It is time to celebrate!
But quickly that euphoric feeling evaporates.
Vulnerable, fatigued and emotionally drained
I survived but I’m struggling, and I feel ashamed.

Pelvic pain, infertility & menopause
Just a few of the long-lasting treatment flaws.
I long to return to my life before cancer
But that’s impossible and creating a ‘new normal’ is the only answer.

Determined with courage I set my ambition:
Thriving with passion is my life mission.
I set myself targets on what I want to achieve
Adoption, fundraising and live happily.

Four years go by – I’m strong and succeeding,
Confident and able, I have a new found freedom.
But then I wake in the middle of the night
Paramedics surround me – it’s a formidable sight.

They take me to hospital where they try to ascertain
What caused my seizure? What’s going on in my brain?
They identify a lesion, a tumour in my head.
‘We think it is brain cancer’ – is what the doctor said.

Adoption is cancelled, life is on pause
Beating cancer is my focus and priority cause.
Surgery is planned – an awake craniotomy
One more challenge, life throws at me.

Cancer ghosting, an unfortunate affair,
When friends hear the ‘C’ word and then disappear.
I wish they knew I don’t expect them to have the right words to say.
I just need them to be here and not go away.

Side effects of surgery revealed:
A debilitated side & reduced visual field.
Knock down seven times, stand up eight!
My vigour for life won’t dissipate!

Two more operations & impressive scars remain.
Radio and chemotherapy – I’m back on the treatment train.
My head has lost its hair and I’m starting to feel weak.
I realise I’ll never be a mother and my future now looks bleak.

I lose my temper, I’ve had enough.
This cancer game is far too rough.
My head is down & I’m feeling withdrawn,
But here come my true friends to remind me ‘I’m strong’.

My cellular demon – an unwelcome foreigner.
But I’m the perfect opponent – a tenacious warrior!
Call it a battle. I wage war!
I’m ready and know what I’m fighting for!

The combat continues and I‘m still alive.
I’ll do everything it takes to ensure I thrive.
I’ve overcome the grief and let go of the anger.
I move forward forever saying FUCANCER.