The year that was

I saw my brain today. It gave me a fright, and left me feeling a bit shaken.

There it was - sitting on the screen of Dr Hamilton’s computer for my follow-up appointment. And the star of the images... that big, glowing white ball.  

I hate that thing.

It is one year exactly since I called my mum telling her I had a headache and my eyesight was a bit blurry. November 18. It’s about time I write something.

Survivors should be happy, right? Celebrating every single breath. And survivors should be strong, Fearless.

These feelings weigh on me when I realize I’m often afraid, a little cynical (am trying not to be!) and get frustrated about not knowing what I’m doing with my life.

For after all, I was reminded today that anaplastic oligondendroglioma’s typically come back within 5 to 13 years.

I just don’t want to know this.

I came home today and sat down. To be honest, I felt a bit bewildered. I walked like a zombie to the kitchen (okay it’s only two metres away from the ‘lounge’) and had a few big bowls of cereal in lieu of the healthy, cancer-kicking dinner I had planned in my mind. 

Now my head pounds. Yes, it had sugar in it, which I haven’t had in almost a year. It gives me an awful headache now. It may well be all in my mind (pun not intended), but can feel the pain emanating from my right frontal lobe.

Now I’m wondering what the issue really is. Is my life not wonderful, and so privileged? Yes, I know it is. 

I think I feel guilty. I feel guilty for people admiring me, thinking I’ve dealt with this all so well, “oh, I don’t know how you’ve done it,” “you’re so positive, strong,” etcetera. 

"Misleading the public" is what they call it in journalism.

It’s been a big year.

(Writing that last sentence just brought tears to my eyes.)