A year ago I wrote a post about how great it was to have survived cancer and to go back to the normal everyday things. When I now read my last post I struggle to remember how that felt because now it’s two years on and everything seems so different.
I guess I thought that everything would be changed; that I would see the true purpose of life, I would make the effort to do wonderful things, not waste time, and have amazing adventures. How I wish…
But it hasn’t. I’ve slipped back into old habits, worries and that dull comfort zone which probably contributed to the disease in the first place. I think it’s a common problem; your friends, family and work colleagues give you lovely treatment in the aftermath of bereavement, divorce or serious illness. This helps you on the road to recovery, and soon everything seems fine, but these are all long processes.
Two years on and I’m still thinking about cancer every day; every glass of wine, every chocolate bar, every hour spent on the sofa, every stressy work day, every funeral, every glimpse of the scar. I’m not feeling sorry for myself; I am cross with myself that the post cancer wonder-world I experienced hasn’t lasted, and that I still have exactly the same faults that I had before this whole shebang started.
Not to mention the poor old NHS.