Saturday 5 May 2012

Over- thinking?

After several weeks of good, positive feelings and a real sense of making progress, perhaps it was inevitable that something would come along and side-swipe me. The news yesterday that MCA, from the band The BEastie Boys, had died has hit me harder than it ought to. I don't particularly like the Beastie Boys. I'm not a big fan of their music. They don't feature on my iPod. So why did I find tears on my cheeks last night? Because he died of cancer in his parotid gland - exactly where I had mine. If I needed a reminder that this disease is sickeningly evil and destructive, then I certainly got one. I know that each case is unique and you can't accurately predict that two people with the same type of cancer will respond in the same way - and anyway, I don't know what type of cancer he had in his parotid. It could be a totally different type, at a different stage when diagnosed, he could have had different doses of radiotherapy; there are all kinds of things that could be different. But still, I find myself brought up short and having, once again, to confront my deepest fears and insecurities. Already I have asked the ever-patient Neil to reassure me that he'll not leave me, no matter what. He is so good at recognising my worries and calming me down - not that I am hysterical or even a bit distrssed. It's more a sad resignation to the reality, once again brought into sharp relief, that this horrible disease never quite leaves you alone. Even if it's not physically present in your body, its malevolent voice is talking in your head. I can't silence it permanently. I am hoping this is a temporary blip in my otherwise positive progress of the past few weeks. I have been reassured by family and friends that I shouldn't worry about something that happened to someone else, but I think part of the problem, for me, is that parotid cancer is so rare that anyone dying of it is news - somehow, if I had a more common cancer, I could believe that the chances of it being a different strain, a different type, to mine are greater. Des that make any sense? It does to me.

5 comments:

  1. I so understand this... I had skin cancer, years ago... went through the works and have been clear for years :)Then some years later a very dear friend got the same cancer... and fought it, and fought it... and he died. I am still struggling with that today. HUGS! xxx

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  2. Oh Ali, I do understand. I'm not surprised this has knocked you. Hope is such a fragile emotion. It needs nurturing and protecting, and news like this is like a frost on your new shoots. I absolutely believe you will overcome this foul disease. Everything has gone well so far, and with each success and each milestone your self-belief will become stronger. Big, big hug and looking forward to seeing you really soon. xxxxxx

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  3. you've had such a busy time I am sad you're having a blip,but maybe not surprised ... as you say you are just an ordinary person (albeit one who inspires the rest of us)
    xxx

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  4. On the other hand, you are the person that someone else knows who has beaten this type of cancer. Who will give hope to them and their family. That doesn't make it any easier for you right now, I know.

    Xxxxx

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  5. You make perfect sense Ali. Thinking of you xx

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