I won’t say I wasn’t a little shocked when the cancer was confirmed. I was. But really only a little! I swear I knew… some say I would have known my own body and could tell that something wasn’t right. Some say the fact I’d had no energy for several months (years) was an indication but I say it was all down to the lady who did my ultrasound. All normal one minute and then just a flicker of change in her tone before she reverted back to normal again. (I like to think I’m quite good at reading people and I read her!)
Once the news had sunk in and I had told the necessary people (and a few unnecessary people) I was confronted with a text message: ‘I know you must be so angry right now, asking Why Me?’ Nope, I thought. I had actually been thinking why not me? If one in every seven or eight women are to get breast cancer then why wouldn’t I be one of them? I was in actual fact looking at strangers in the street thinking- you’ve probably got it too, you just don’t know yet. I think of cancer as a bit of a lurker in that way- I look at others and wonder where theirs will be! Morbid? I had started thinking the exact opposite of what had been text to me. I’d even compiled a mental list of all the reasons I actually made a really good cancer candidate! (Imagine if you will, the beginning of The Apprentice… but instead of why I should be Lord Sugar’s next apprentice, I list my cancer surviving attributes!)
Firstly and by far most importantly… the hair thing. I have had really short hair before- through actual choice! I know what I look like with very little hair. This can only be a good thing when being faced with losing my hair. In your face other candidates! I always want to change my hair style and have had many many different styles over the years… baldness is just one style I hadn’t been hoping to add to the list!
Secondly, (and in a serious way, most importantly) my husband! I’ve stood at the school gates so many times and listened to other mums go on about how useless the fathers of their children are. They don’t help around the house, they don’t cook, they don’t do night feeds; the list goes on. I’m happy to say that none of this is true of the wonderful father of my children. (I’m a little ashamed to say that this is not something I let on at the school gates- I even join in with the moaning about the other halves sometimes- It must be peer pressure I think!) My husband is ‘capable’ and thank god under the current circumstances that he is! It sickens me at admit this but whilst I struggle to control temper tantrums, clear up sick and change nappies as well as maintaining a tidy house with three meals on the table, my husband seems to do all of the above with ease! (Annoyingly he even seems to find time to enjoy it! Bleugh!) I do know how lucky I am to have a husband that copes so well. And if I ever forget how lucky I am, I just need to keep an ear out on the next school run or pop along to mums and toddlers to remind myself!
Thirdly, I was never that feminine anyway! Old friends will tell you how at school when playing imaginary games I was always Adam. I was always always always the boy. I hated dolls, dresses and pink. Once at middle school we had Barclays School Bank and much to my sister and her friend’s amusement Barclays confused me with an actual boy and sent me statements addressed to Master E Rogers ESQ. I could later admit that these tomboyish tendencies were actually a ploy to get closer to boys and hide the fact that I was in actual fact just flirting!
Finally, there is my personality in general… I love a drama. I actually told my mum before this thing was confirmed that if she had been wondering where the next family drama was coming from I thought it might be me! Some people are very private, particularly about personal issues… not me! Oh no I love to share… not a private bone in this body. Don’t care if you screw your face up and make it oh so clear that you really don’t want to know- that just makes it more fun to divulge the embarrassing details! And then there’s the fact that I’m very faddy. (Yep- how long will this blogging really last?) I love a new project. In the past it’s been ebaying, sewing, the gym, tap dancing, baking cakes, some of you will recall touch rugby! Even some boyfriends would be better described as a fad! I’d recently felt I was done with the baby thing and was wondering what new direction my life was going to take when cancer landed in my lap (or in my boob- twice). So this was the new project? Surviving cancer. OK I’m up for that! Shame it’s not a fad that can be dropped as easily as rugby or an ex-boyfriend… it turns out that cancer is slightly more of a commitment than your average fad- if it wasn’t I’d probably be on to the next thing by now!
(I have just realised that there are a certain few that may think it’s funny to add fiancés to my list of fads- total over exaggeration so I’m setting the record straight before the funny comments start!)
Finally finally-Thank goodness my boys are as capable as my husband… hate to brag but they are fantastic sleepers, eaters and on the whole I’m really hoping they are just too young for this to affect them at all.
Now, I’ll just end by making it clear why it should not be me… I’m too young, I have tiny children to look after, my husband deserves the healthy wife he married and above all before this I had fab boobs! (When those mums aren’t moaning about their men they’re complaining that their boobs are too big/small/droopy.) Mine were ace and should not have been at all cancerous! Ha! Said it!