138. I seem to be on a roll...

This should be compulsory reading for anyone recovering from cancer treatment or living with someone in that position: http://www.workingwithcancer.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/After-the-treatment-finishes-then-what.pdf

Don’t panic. You’re not expected to read it but there may be someone in that position who’d like to read it, hence the link. Plus I show off that I know how to do a hyperlink. The gist for me is that everyone’s expectation is that, now treatment is more or less over, you just get back to normal. However, in addition to all the reminders like the frustrating side effects that linger and really want to put down roots, all the medication, exercises and check-ups which keep you in CancerLand, there is an additional factor which you can’t escape from - the possibility of it coming back. So the article is very reassuring about how to look ahead regardless. It needs several reads from me and maybe the occasional revisit as the next paragraph shows.

I had the strangest dream last night which didn’t feel at all out of the ordinary. I dreamt I watched my mother open a letter printed on beige/grey A4 (St James’s Hospital paper), her face drop and then she passed it to David, my older brother, who had a similar reaction.

Each time I passed, their voices would drop. Eventually I confronted them because I knew the letter was for me, or about me, as I was probably about 15 judging by their appearances. I was furious with them for keeping the truth from me and used all the usual arguments like ‘It’s my body’ and ‘You’ve no right’ but they assured me I didn’t want to know. Of course, I sneaked the letter from Mum’s pocket and they were right - I didn’t want to know. I woke up to C’s words in her email: ‘What’s read cannot be unread.’

This blog isn’t the place for analysing ancient family dynamics but it was good to be in a dream where I was the focus of the attention, albeit unwelcome/unfortunate, where I felt I mattered because I always felt invisible at home. It wasn’t so good to know that my dreams are reflecting that belief that cancer is going to come back. Where is my ignorance and numbness that stopped me thinking about this stuff? Where are my protective strategies? Where is my confidence that it’s only a disease? Suddenly it’s become a bit of a monster, occasionally with a paw on my shoulder. Let’s keep it that way - manageable.

I’ve almost finished the FutureLearn OU course on Start Writing Fiction. Ok, I’ve done it three times now, in fact it may be four, but I really needed it to get me back into creative writing. Last weekend’s Flash Weekender course was a real stimulus so I’m all guns firing, raring to go, champing at the bit - just showing I can write really badly. However, I am working hard at not using the exclamation mark so liberally (it is quite painful - I feel an ache in my palm as I hover over the keyboard - but, as with the bc, I shall conquer it).

Take off the beanie and this is so me and how I write.