29 April 2024

‘A merry heart doeth good, like a medicine’, Proverbs 17:22

I’ve decided that I’m bored with cancer. I prefer normal life, thank you very much. I have just had the most wonderful weekend imaginable, the fourth and final one celebrating my 50th (I worked out that if I count each birthday event as a year, then I’ve already reached 55: result!)

Saturday was a very special day and a chance to put my glad rags on for my birthday lunch at the beautiful Brocket Hall, organised by my totally amazing school Mum friends. I felt like a princess for the day, or maybe a character from A Midsummer Night’s Dream…

I knew that it was going to be lovely but it was so much more than that; my friends so generously surprised me with an array of wonderful things including the beautiful accessory for my hair (I hadn’t let myself even consider hair styles in the lead up as I was expecting my locks to succumb to their threatened fate at any moment), the most gorgeous balloon, and a cake that literally blew me away.

During the course of the afternoon I smiled so much that my face hurt, and golly did we laugh. And laugh. And laugh.

Sunday saw the final birthday fling with my brother James and his lovely family, featuring gorgeous English sparkling wine (I must say I’ve reaclimatised myself to bubbly particularly well), a duck main course and passion fruit cheesecake with unicorn candles (what else?) for the final chorus of Happy Birthday.

Presents were something I didn’t really want to think about this year. It seemed wasteful to consider getting any new things, given my prognosis. I really wanted a special watch for my 50th, not having had a working watch for ages, but decided against it, not knowing how long I would get to wear it for. ‘You could do with a new phone, though,’ Steve pointed out. Yes, my battery is a bit rubbish now, but: ‘It’s fine,’ I told him. Instead, I opted for things that could be enjoyed in the here and now- hence the London treats with Steve, and Centre Parcs with the children.

However, my family and friends were both thoughtful and creative, coming up with incredible and meaningful gifts. To highlight just a couple, Michael bought me a web domain and intends to put all of my music on it (I need to get on with the transcribing and editing..). My mother-in-law Christine had this beautiful box personalised for me, featuring one of my favourite early photos of Steve and I:

And if present-buying featured in the Olympics, my brother James and sister-in-law Emily would win gold every time. They always manage to choose presents that you didn’t realise you wanted or needed until you open it. This year they gave me a Care Bear, a gorgeously soft PURPLE bear that I will be able to cuddle at times of need and in the absence of a suitable human to hug, but also hugely significant to me as I used to adore my Care Bears as a child.

When James and family had left, we walked down to the park at the bottom of our road for a spot of fresh air. I’m not sure that we have been there since my diagnosis, given the terrible winter weather.

‘Let’s play It’ Isaac declared automatically: playing tag on the huge play structure is what we have always done.

‘So sorry, Isaac, you know I can’t play It any more,’ I had to tell him.

NOTTTTT!

‘Yay, It, come on then!’ I cried, jumping up on to the climbing frame.

Yes, I climbed, and slid, and ran (just about). Because as I said, I’m bored with cancer. Now, if only cancer would decide that it’s also bored with me then I’m sure we could come to some arrangement…

I’m so glad that I have such wonderful memories of the last few weeks as they will be needed very much as we move on. Chemo looms again tomorrow, and then Superprof has decided to do another scan before any further cycles, earlier than planned, as I’m still having intermittent abdominal pain and he wants to check out exactly what is going on. In a way I’m glad that the scan isn’t after the full 6 cycles, so there may be less pressure for particular results, but on the other hand anyone that has cancer will tell you that ‘Scanxiety’ is a real thing. I feel so well, yet have to be ready to be told that I’m really not well, all over again…

All I can do is keep at the forefront of my mind the Bible verse: ‘Be anxious for nothing’. Nothing. Not even a scary scan and scarier results. Nothing. I will focus on the now, the joy, the love, and leave the rest in the hands of a God who does all things well.

‘Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus’. Philippians 4:6-7