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The ending that wasn’t quite an ending
There is a very short way to tell my cancer story: breast cancer in 2023, surgery, chemotherapy and radiotherapy, followed by life afterwards.
It fits into a sentence. The afterwards has taken considerably more room.
I had a lumpectomy and lymph nodes removed. I went through chemotherapy and radiotherapy. I am still taking tamoxifen. Those facts describe what happened, but they do not explain what it feels like to be getting on with life while still dealing with the effects.
The treatment part has dates. Feeling like myself again is harder to put in a calendar.
Wanting to move on doesn’t make it happen
I want my health back on track. I want to feel capable, get outdoors, learn things and have enough energy left to enjoy what I have chosen to do.
That sounds fairly reasonable. It also turns out to involve rather more negotiation than I would like.
Hot flushes, joint aches, brain fog and lymphoedema have all been part of my life since treatment. Some things have improved, and I do notice those improvements. They matter. But improvement and a complete return to how things used to be are different experiences.
The frustrating bit is that my appetite for life has not politely reduced itself to match my physical capacity. I still want to do things. I still have ideas. A quiet afternoon can produce enough plans to keep several healthier people occupied for a fortnight. For anyone who likes a cosy spot for a quiet afternoon, a BEDELITE fleece blanket (Ad) is one ordinary comfort to consider.
Then I have to work out what is actually manageable.
Ordinary life is still waiting
There is no separate recovery household where the bills pause and the dogs take responsibility for their own dinner.
I still have a home to look after, money to think about and two spaniels who have their own views about how a day should run. Recovery happens among those ordinary responsibilities. It is woven into them, sometimes inconveniently.
That is one reason I wanted to write this blog. The everyday aftermath deserves some space of its own. There is a lot between completing treatment and feeling ready to announce that everything is wonderful.
I do not want to turn that space into a failure simply because it is taking longer than I would like.
Giving the middle a voice
I can be glad to have come through treatment and still be frustrated by what remains. I can enjoy something today and struggle tomorrow. I can make progress without pretending I have arrived at a tidy conclusion.
Writing about it is one way of keeping the whole experience in view: what happened, what is still difficult and what I am doing with the life I have now.
If you are somewhere in that middle too, I hope there is a little relief in recognising it. You do not have to produce a triumphant ending to have something worth saying.
For now, I am still here, still figuring it out, and still making rather ambitious plans over a cuppa.
I’m sharing my own experience. This blog is not medical advice.