Hello! I'm back from a whirlwind adventure in Rome, and let me tell you, the Eternal City has left me rejuvenated. But whilst I’ve been away, I’ve been thinking about the ups and downs of life after cancer. It's not exactly the topic you'd expect to crop up over a plate of pasta, but bear with me. See, I've been mulling over the highs and lows of post-cancer life, beyond just the medical stuff.
I mean, sure, cancer leaves its mark in more ways than one. There's the physical aftermath, the emotional scars, the constant worry about what might come next. But – amidst all the chaos, I’ve had moments of positivity. Call them "glimmers,"– those little sparks of joy.
So, let's unpack the ups and downs, shall we?
First up, the downs. Cancer didn't just waltz into my life and leave quietly – oh no, it made itself right at home, causing all sorts of chaos. Take, for instance, the two marathons I had to say goodbye to this year. Talk about knocking you when you’re down. Sure, in the grand scheme of things, I know I can lace up my trainers and tackle those miles another day. But I want it to be on my terms, not cancer's. Is that too much to ask?
And don't even get me started on social events. The dreaded gatherings where small talk reigns supreme and my social battery drains faster than my phone on low battery mode. I have gotten better at navigating these situations (check out my previous blog for the saga of ordering a drink!), but let's be real – I'm not the same Shikha I used to be. It's like my mind and body decide to throw in the towel simultaneously after a few hours, leaving me feeling like a deflated balloon. Still trying to crack the code on that one.
But wait, there's more. Cue the biggest buzzkill of them all – the fear of recurrence. Every little twinge or pang in my stomach sends my mind into overdrive, conjuring up worst-case scenarios faster than you can say "A&E." And let me tell you, trying to plan for the future with this constant cloud of uncertainty looming overhead is pretty horrible.
Now, let's flip the script and focus on the silver linings – because trust me, they're there if you look closely enough.
First off, can we talk about confidence? Post-cancer me is a whole new ballgame. I’ve found myself in meetings at work, surrounded by pretty senior people, and when I know the answer, I don't just sit there twiddling my thumbs. Oh no, I speak up – loud and proud. Gone are the days of second-guessing and psyching myself up for a simple comment. Nope, now I'm all about seizing the moment and letting my voice be heard. After all, what's the worst that could happen?
Then there's the exhilarating rush of seizing the day. I had an early morning escapade in Rome. I woke up at 6am, laced up my running shoes, and hit the streets in search of the Trevi Fountain – in the hope of no crowds. Spoiler alert: it was still bustling, but that didn't dampen my spirits one bit. I’m not sure I would have done this before cancer – I would have probably come up with 101 reasons why it’s not practical to try and fit in a run on a 3-day holiday. But, in fact, it turned out to be one of the highlights of my entire trip. My sisters joined me at the fountain, and we had one of the tastiest breakfasts I’ve ever had. It's moments like these that make life worth living.
Last but certainly not least, let's talk about gratitude. Cancer has a funny way of putting things into perspective, of stripping away the noise and leaving behind only what truly matters. Suddenly, the little things – a sunny day, a warm pastry, the laughter of my family, my dogs running around in the garden – take on a whole new meaning. Sure, I still stress about work and all the usual stuff, but I've learned to let go of the trivial worries that used to consume me. Cancer may be rubbish, there's no denying that, but through the recovery process, I've discovered a newfound appreciation for the simple joys of life.
So, there you have it. Life after cancer isn't just about surviving – it's about thriving, finding strength in the face of adversity, and embracing every moment with open arms. Cancer is confusing - the diagnosis, the process, the recovery, every single part of it. You’ll feel fine one day and horrendous the next. It's not about trivializing the struggle at all. But on the more positive days, I try and find the beauty in the battle. And let me tell you, there's beauty to be found if you're willing to look for it.