10 years ago today I discovered my cancer had returned for the third time. Reflecting on this I felt an overwhelming sadness at what the past 10 years have meant. I wish I had kept my writing going because I know how much I’ve bottled up. I never truly gave enough credit to how cathartic this out pouring had been for me. Tears pouring down my face as I type this might be a giveaway. It was over 7 years ago I last wrote here about being seen. I think shortly before covid and suspect that might be why. As in, what am I whinging about. Interestedly I never cancelled this account. I think I knew one day I would return. I would need to. For me. To figure out how it really has been. Navigating these past 10 years after all that was done to me to keep me alive. Without much concern from those keeping me alive for what that might mean long term or whether it was necessary to be as brutal. It’s been fucking horrific. And yet I smile at being alive. Cancer is the gift that truly keeps on giving. Or rather the attempt at obliteration of it does. I think it’s important for everyone to know and understand even at your lowest, you have agency. You can decide your future. And do not let the fear we all feel at the mention of the word cancer, take that from you. It nearly did from me. Well it did. I thought I had a handle on it. And I bear the consequences. Would I make different decisions now. I think so. But hey, I’m here. I am still so very grateful for that.

And I have a few things to say.