The cancer that came back

 Sounds grim doesn't it?

 

It isn’t really, I was expecting it because of my Lynch Syndrome. It has reinforced my priorities in life. 

At the time of writing, I realise it has been a few years since my last post, I mean, Dylan is a full grown toddler now! 

21st November 2018:

·        Start of a new life.

·        The day I was saved.

·        The day my life would change forever.

·        A blessing.

·        A curse.

·        The day my body was chopped up and mutilated.

·        The day when my mental anguish was lessened massively.

·        The day when my self-image took a massive knock.

·        The day my risk of cancer dramatically lessened.

Answer: all of the above

During the last couple of years I’ve had to learn to get on with my stoma (nope, still doesn’t have a name) and we’ve had to develop a mutual existence. Relationships require hard work at the best of times, this is most definitely no exception.

After surgery, I knew I needed to find a new normal. and I was told it would be 12 months before anything like “normal” would be established.  Last week I was told it is more like 24-36 months – to take it easy on myself and remember my poor body was a tad battered.

10 days later, wheeling his stubborn wife down to the village church to sing carols and turn on the Christmas lights!
SO… come on Debs – find the light…
Here is a better Question…

Hard work is the result of  4 surgeries in 1 – a long recovery process from losing major organs, creation of stoma and losing my botty!

Like potty training a kid, I had to go back to step one to learn how to control my new body as much as I can whilst in extreme pain. Thank you mr. morphine!  Daily stoma routines are much easier and quicker now, and I could probably change my bag with my eyes shut (I won’t try though!).  I have learnt triggers and what to (and not to) eat and things have settled down in a way I could not foresee this time in 2018.

It feels so long ago that Dad / Uncle Aaron was with me as they wheeled me into the operating theatre – so much has happened and you've all played your role in making me feel better. 

Walking, sitting, moving – all of that was tough, but our bodies are resilient – give yours a little faith! Here I am at the end of a charity challenge where i have run for 66 days in a row for Colostomy UK!

Then we have had to get our heads around this new body, the everyday physical and psychological challenges of living with an ostomy.   This bit is hitting now and the past couple of weeks have been building up a bit in my brain. We had our first clear CT, the end of #Stoma66, the stomaversary – all been building up a bit. Damn! We need some fun this weekend!

An ostomates life is a life that is different from what is “normal” – for 41 years my body worked how it was designed to, then it changed forever.  Sometimes it feels like I’m watching someone else,  sometimes I feel part of a “club”, sometimes I simply hate it. Sometimes I realise I am lucky – if Lynch Syndrome meant I would get cancer again, at least we caught it and I am lucky enough to be under constant surveillance.

Many of us ostomates are likely to feel different to you muggles, but this is because our realities are now different.  I like to try to think positive and believe that with the gift of a stoma there is a gift of a little magic. No matter how grumpy I may get, how much I look at my stoma and think it is ugly, how I may long for my smooth perfectly imperfect tummy again, I have seen darker sides of life, and now try to focus on the light. 

People have stoma’s for very different reasons, but all serious and life threatening ones.

Do we have the upper hand?

Do we see the magic in life when we can, a chance to live, to laugh, to cry, to struggle, to triumph, and another chance to live life to the fullest?

So sometimes sad or bad things happen, but it is how you deal with it that will make the difference to your happiness. We can only control how we react to things beyond our control - please always see the positive xx