This Will Not Define Me

I’m the practical sort, so I need time to process this cancer bombshell. My boys had been waiting for a text from me so too had a couple of friends. I sent them all a version of the truth. I’m not built to lie but I also have to consider my communication so I don’t upset anyone, and I’m not sure a text is really the best way to deliver the news so I sent this:

Mammogram, ultrasound and biopsy done get the results in 2 weeks.

It’s true I do get the results of what version of the big C I have and how they will treat it. But you really can’t upset people before Christmas, there’s no point everyone being brassed off. I need time to reassemble my brain.

So, Cath and I have a cup of coffee in the separate waiting room, I guess prepared for people like me who’ve just been given the sort of news you never want to hear. We were encouraged to stop for coffee because you’re not supposed to drive after a biopsy but trust me Catherine is NOT driving my fabulous new SLK. At the beginning of the year, I’d decided that if the business had done well I’d give myself a bonus and treat myself to one. We’ve had the best year ever and I’d managed to save a lot of money in the business. I’m a bit tight and hate spending what I’ve saved, but in truth, I’d found the lump and not knowing what it was it inspired me to just part with my cash. I’m pleased I did and whilst it won’t fix me it does make me smile. I love cars. I love the acceleration and this beast does not disappoint. Cath’s not the worst driver in the world – but even so, she is NOT driving my new car, cancer or no cancer!

Dinner with Sarah. Poor girl. I’ve no idea what we spoke about.

I manage to pull myself together, nip to the loo and wander round to the car park. It’s a piss take – I have to pay £2.60 for the parking to be told I’ve got cancer, oh the fucking joy… I do think they should make some allowances for stuff like this. Anyway we come home, Cath goes and I have to find the courage to get ready, stay smiling and go out with my friend for dinner. My kids are away with their donor – yes, I know that’s not very nice but to be fair that’s about all we got from their father – so I’ve yet another Christmas on my own. So after music full blast, showered and my happy mask applied, I collect Sarah

Dinner with Sarah. Poor girl. I’ve no idea what we spoke about. I know my communication was disjointed, to say the least, and my train of thought not exactly as rail track straight as it should. Thankfully she was drinking as I drove so I don’t think she noticed. But all I wanted to do was scream in her face, “I HAVE CANCER!” It went round and round and round in my head. I don’t know how I stopped myself YELLING it out loud, except for the impact those three little words would have on her, her Christmas, her family. It just wouldn’t be fair it’s not her fault and I don’t think I’d want to be hairdryered like that.

I’ve had friends that have completely abused their body’s and yet are fighting fit; whilst I wouldn’t ever wish this upon anyone, you do have to wonder who decides.

Now let’s chat about being fair. The big C is not fair. Now don’t get me wrong I don’t want a pity party, a badge, nor do I need a flag to wave. I’m no ‘poor me’. If I was, you’d think getting sexually abused at ten by an overzealous step-grandparent and nearly losing my arm at 21 in a motorbike accident would be enough for me to get a ‘poor me’ badge, but you really couldn’t write this shit. Why me? I know that’s an awful thing to say but why? Jesus, haven’t I had enough to contend with. Ever wondered what you did in a previous life?

And I know this is even worse, but I’ve had friends that have completely abused their bodies and yet are fighting fit. Whilst I wouldn’t ever wish this upon anyone, you do have to wonder who decides. I had this one friend who had a body to die for, proper slim, long luscious brown hair, she drank black coffee, did cocaine, smoked her perfectly pert tits off each and every day to the tune of 20-30 fags, drank like an alky, ate no more than 500 calories a day and she’s fine…HOW??? Again, trust me, I wouldn’t wish this upon anyone, it’s a shit thing for anyone to go through BUT I want to know who picks the recipients because we need a chat!

Sorry, I’m ranting again – right, back to Christmas Eve. After I dropped Sarah off I popped into my friends Nicky and Nigel’s for drinks and did my best to be my idea of normal. Tell you what, it was good to get a couple of glasses of prosecco down my neck and play catch up with my friends. I’ve always been lucky with my friends and have a vast varied collection of people whom I love spending time with. I was vague about the outcome of my appointment. I had told them that I was off to the hospital because I honestly thought I’d have nothing to complain about – got that wrong, didn’t I?

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