Toughest Mountain Yet

To those of you who aren't aware, in February 2019 I finished 6 months of gruelling chemo for Stage 4 Hodgkin's Lymphoma and in March heard those magical words 'No sign of activity!' Remission was reached and I have spent the last few months celebrating and learning to love and accept this new normal, or as I prefer to think of it 'The evolution of Georgie.' With my 27th birthday fast approaching I had decided that seen as my 26th year went to shit, I might as well redo it! So this year I will happily watch everyone else age, however I shall not. I mean to me, this seems rather logical. I missed a year of being able to grow and experience all my plans to take over the world, so I shall take the laws of the universe into my own hands and stop time. Makes perfect sense.

There was a slight hiccup to my plan... with the Tippex on my passport not even dried yet I received my 3 month scan results. Signs of activity, the cancer is back.

FUCK - FUCKITY FUCK

My immediate thought was shit, I better make myself a bit younger that 26 seen as this year is about to go to shit as well. So just so you are all aware I am turning 25 again and off for some botox to make it believable.

As you would have guessed by now, I immediately resort to humour when I am scared or upset. The reality of the situation is I am devastated, beyond belief. I sat in front of prof all dolled up for the celebratory lunch and my heart sunk to my stomach. I didn't dare look at my parents as I could hear the sniffles and I had to keep my brain working to make sure I could soak in everything he was saying.  The cogs in my head are turning as he shows me the scan results. The cancer is back in my chest, 4 little glowing baubles on the PET scan - it is like Christmas but less fun and I really don't want this present! The only thought in my head was how is Prof going to save me.  I can't imagine what it must be like to be a doctor who has to share this news and know the patient is putting their life in their hands.

Listening intently and holding back tears I hear the initial plan of action. I need a fresh biopsy taken, 3 months of GEM-P Chemo and then a system re-boot of a stem cell transplant. Everything seems so much more severe this time round and that is saying something because the 1st tine there was no mucking around! The biopsy will involve deflating a lung, there is a risk of my cancer being resistant to chemo and I have now seen what cancer does to people close to me. Reality has set in.

The word relapse has circled my mind the last couple of days but relapsing makes it sounds like the same thing is happening again but this couldn't feel more like a whole new ball game. 1st time round it was buckle down the hatches for 6 months of treatment for an illness (which of course is serious) that I wasn't really scared of - I mean I called the dam thing Barry and who could be scared of Bazza. This time round, I feel it. I feel its' evil relentlessness. For the first time I feel it trying to kill me. This time round it doesn't get a cute name, I don't see it as a friendly hitchhiker, this time I mean business. As dramatic as it sounds, it's true. I am a very positive person, a suck it up and find the funny type of gal but I am struggling to find the humour in this. I feel like the cancer has beaten me in this round, it's laughing at me 'Haha human, you tried to get me and failed... my turn now.'

I don't think I will ever be able to put into words how I feel but my biggest mental mountain is to try and get my head around the fact that I was starting to get better, because I guess I wasn't. Slowly but surely I was getting my strength back, my hair was growing, I was exercising and started yoga, I was about to start going back to work, I had holidays all lined up, was enjoying making and being able to stick to plans and most importantly I was just starting to feel like me again. It just feels so ironic that as the chemo side effects are wearing off and I am starting to feel better, I was actually still sick and the cancer was growing inside me. I mean to be honest, what utter bullsh*t! How the monkeys am I meant to know or look out for the cancer coming back if there are no symptoms and I feel better?! The relapse was silent, no signs, no symptoms, just growing silently but luckily spotted thanks to my scan … but what happens when you have no more scans?

I had started to plan and book things in for my life after lymphoma, holidays in the South of France and Thailand, a tattoo to celebrate my remission and now it's all cancelled.... you got to look at the bright side though, imagine if I had my remission date tattooed and then got this news! LOL I have managed to cram in a couple days away as an escape now though otherwise a holiday was looking real far off. I have come away by myself to try and clear my head and mentally prepare for what is to come.

I am guilty of preferring to sweep my emotions under a rug when it comes to how I truly feel, I think I am often worried how others will react or what they will think of me if I go into a full blown meltdown so I always try and make a joke out of stressful situations - nothing like a bit of dark humour to get you through impending doom - but all I want to do is cry and scream and have a full blown toddler tantrum flailing around in aisle 5 of Tescos. Instead of inflicting my crazy directly on others, I use Instagram as my outlet. Like my own daily journal. I try and focus on the positive as if to tell myself if I am outwardly positive then my inner good vibes will grow. This being said I do try and voice my fears as well when I have a better grasp on them. I think it is safe to say I do not have a grasp on my fears at the moment though... I am scared. I am scared of dying, I have never been scared of dying before or of my future but suddenly these thoughts are thrust upon me. What if this treatment doesn't work, what if I don't make it.. that all too familiar negative flow chart just runs on and on and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Cancer is different for everyone and no 2 cancers seem to be the same but I have watched my friend relapse  and run out of options. I saw cancer take what isn't his. Cancer didn't own her, he stole her from the world and now all I can feel is it creeping inside my chest, expanding, flowing around in my blood..... chest tightens... anxiety sets it.

All I feel is an explosion of emotions inside me, some reasonable and some unexplainable but instead of focussing solely on the negative I am going to try and do what I do best and that is to find the funny. I am going to see this as another opportunity to see how much I can grow in the face of adversity. Cancer will not defeat me. Cancer will not break me. Cancer will no define me.

SUCK IT CANCER


My initial tips so far for this relapse malarkey:

• Do whatever the fudge you gotta do - scream, shout, runaway, laugh, cry, joke, shop... you name it, you do it. Every single emotion you are feeling is valid. Embrace it, feel it and then try to move on from it.
• The only beauty of a relapse is it means you have done this before so you know to some extent what is coming and what you need. You will have learnt how to communicate so you must voice what you need. Take time to sit with family and friends to express what you want from them. For me, I don't want flowers and chocolates... I want support. I don't want to feel alone and hopefully the people around me will help me still feel like Georgie (just with a bit of help). I am going to need humans around me now more than ever.
• Speak to a counsellor
• Soak up as much information as your can - NOT FROM GOOGLE! Sadly there are too many of us who relapse but learn from their experiences, connect with people and get some hints and tips. You must make sure they are happy to talk about it first though.
• Hard decisions may have to be made - take your time.