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Sam Rose - writer, geek, music lover, cancer survivor, optimist, Buddhist.

Category: Cancer Survivorship (page 2 of 8)

note to self

Note to self, and other selves who try to put their own feelings on shelves hidden behind a curtain, where they’re certain it won’t occur to other people to look.

4,000 miles

4,000 miles away from my own doormat, after a long day of co-ordinating the salt in my nails with the sand in my teeth, I whisper “please, no letters” into my American pillow, as if there were anything it could possibly do to stop the consultant, to stop the admin clerk, to stop the sorting office staff, to stop the postman, to stop time.

Medical Update!

Oh, hello there!

I thought I should blog as I haven’t in a while, and things have been happening. The annoying thing is, things are still happening and things will still be happening for the foreseeable future. Though I am not thinking too far ahead, so there isn’t much of the future that is foreseeable right now.

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IHadCancer.com Top Cancer Blog Runner Up!

The results are in for the IHadCancer.com Top Cancer Blogs of 2017! I’m very pleased to be named runner-up in the creativity category. It is an honour to be mentioned among so many other awesome blogs. I think everyone who is out there writing about cancer is pretty brave. And not brave for having cancer – because that is what it is – but brave for putting it all out there, for being a source of information and empathy, for sharing something painful and personal and contributing to a community. These awards are really cool because they introduce us to new sources for all of these things, and remind people that they are not completely alone. Congratulations to everyone!

More on Body-Self Disconnect After Cancer

The other day I wrote a blog post about how I tend to think of
my body as something separate from myself, rather than part of me. I had a bit of an epiphany and now I think that the narrative I’ve been using to describe my body and my relationship with it has been harmful. You might want to read that before wading into this nonsense – it’s really a series of tweets, and it’s not very long. Basically, cancer has fucked me up in terms of how I think about myself and my body. I’m sure other illnesses can do the same, so if any of these even vaguely relates, keep reading.

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I need to forgive my body

Note to self: There is a difference between seeing a health problem as something external that is threatening your body, and seeing your body as itself as the problem. Your body is not a threat. The illness/problem is a threat. Your body is on your side.

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Pebbles and Immovable Rocks

Hospital appointment on Wednesday – first of three different ones but I’m still waiting for the others to come through. I’ve been feeling quite content and at peace today and yesterday, considering, but I’m feeling a tiny bit anxious this evening. Which is illogical, because nothing has changed between then and now. Goodness knows how I will feel when I wake up in the morning. Some days I wake up feeling worried and other days I wake up feeling chirpy, and there is no discernable reason for either. It’s a lottery. I’m held hostage by my feelings. I know the Buddhist answer is to watch them come and go without attachment. I guess I could try harder at that.

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Too much medical

In the space of two weeks, I have:

– Been to see a gynaecologist due to weird MRI results, and told everything is fine, that they can give me a hysteroscopy if I want (just a camera check-up thing) but I said if it’s not totes necessary, don’t bother

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The ups and down and madness of cancer survivorship

It’s all mad. Absolutely fucking mad. I did okay through Christmas, until about 30th December, in anticipation of this appointment with the gynaecologist due to the MRI I had. Spent that evening curled up with my boyfriend crying, and the days leading up to yesterday weren’t much better. Anxious, freaking out. Distracted. Wednesday night my belly was flip-flopping all over the place, doing somersaults.

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2017 in review, sort of

Home alone, feeling reflective or otherwise emotionally riled for no real reason, and in possession of a lot of Jack Daniels. Four bottles, in fact. Obviously I’m only going to have like two glasses; it’s just interesting that I have so much in the house at the moment. Good to know it’s there, I guess – though I will have to pick a different alcohol when I eventually go to the supermarket to do my “will I still get ID’d now that I’m thirty?” test.

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