Tuesday 15 March 2016

Mortality

The thing about all this relaxation, and having so much time on your hands, is that you inevitably start thinking.

In my case, I keep being sideswiped by fear of mortality.

This isn't a bad thing - I guess I have to deal with the whole issue eventually, so I might as well start now.

You see, the thing about hormone positive breast cancer is that it can come back. And you can't ever feel safe, because it can lie dormant for ten, fifteen, even twenty years, and then rear its ugly head again.

And the problem is, it can crop up anywhere, but most often in your bones, liver or brain. And when it does, it's incurable. Terminal. End of the line.

(And it's a horrible way to die. Not that slipping away gently in your sleep, wearing your most glamorous nightie and full make up, that we all wish for.)

They can keep it at bay with chemotherapy, but usually not for more than a year or two.

When I'm busy I manage not to dwell on it much, but the fear is always lurking somewhere.

So, here's how I try to think about it:

You know how they say that the definition of madness is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result?

Well, I figure that if you get cancer it's often a sign that you were doing something wrong. (Sometimes, I guess, it's just bad luck). And if you carry on living life exactly the same way, it's much more likely to come back.

When my tumour started growing I was filling my body with toxins every single day. The link between alcohol and cancer, particularly breast cancer, is becoming increasingly clear. One day it'll be the new tobacco, and there'll be health warnings on every bottle of wine.

Now I drink water, green tea and smoothies. (And Becks Blue, obviously). I've made not just a tiny adjustment to my lifestyle, but a whopping great U-turn.

The other thing I try to remember is that any of us could be dead in ten, fifteen, twenty years. There are no guarantees. Nothing is certain.

And the flipside of the fear of dying is the joy of living.

When you realise that life might be short it makes you properly appreciate every single day, and not want to squander a second of it.

So, if you're still prevaricating about quitting alcohol and starting to properly live your life, just get on and do it now. Carpe bloody diem. Don't waste any more precious time.

Love SM x

16 comments:

  1. It's funny how 'carpe diem' used to be the excuse to overindulge and do exactly what we wanted but now it's something totally different. I feel the same and that is the main reason I stopped. I want to be here for my kids who are still so young x

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    1. Oh and a favourite saying of their's is YOLO!!! 'Come on mum YOLO!!!' You only live once x

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  2. I love where you end up with this. I'm never sure I live my life as to the full as I should but then whatever - I don't waste time being maudlin about the fact that in the end I will die some point.
    I've had a minor health issue recently - I've just had my lunch - vegetarian lasagne and salad... now a few months ago that would never have been the choice du jour! I drink far far less fizzy drinks either those with loads of sugar or those with loads of awful chemicals to replace the sugar! I drink much more water

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  3. When my mum got dementia and then died (a year and a half later) I got obsessed with the idea of an old age where I wasn't mobile, didn't have awareness,etc etc. I totally get where you're coming from. And to be honest, haven't got round it yet. Add to that empty nesting! SM, you write so wonderfully, and I don't want to take anything away.. but isn't there something about some cancers being completely random? and there's a helico circulating around which always makes me think of a lost child and therefore losing it...

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    1. Hi mlf! I'm so sorry about your Mum. Dementia is a terrible disease. You're right, some cancers are totally random (esp childhood cancers), but recent research suggests that 80-90% are related to 'lifestyle factors' - smoking, drinking, diet, obesity, etc xxx

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    2. PS your hotel sounds wonderful - have googled it!!

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  4. I can't pretend to know what you really are going through, but my mom survived breast cancer at 69 and is now turning 75. She lives her life with smiles and hugs. I think this is a very strong preventive measure on her part. "Just do it now...", such great advice.

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  5. What really stands out from this is the enjoy the joy of living - leap in, embrace it!

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  6. How timely your post is once again SM. I have always had a fear of death but at the moment it seems to be off the scale!
    I am trying to keep rational with plans to live life to the fullest but the fear has other ideas....
    Hoping it's all part of the big flush out still continuing at week 12 AF. xx

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  7. SM, it sounds like you are in a beautiful place to practice mindfulness, to embrace the joys of the sun, the sand, the birdsong and the waves. Mortality will still be waiting for you on your return, for now, seize the joy of living with both hands and dance the night away. xx

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  8. Having been a hormone positive Stage 1 breast cancer survivor for 11 years now, I can tell you that you will not always think about your mortality. Your diagnosis and treatment is all very recent for you. I promise you that, one day, it will not be in your thoughts each day. After a bunch of years had gone by since my diagnosis, someone asked me to sponsor them for a breast cancer walk. I said "what a great cause!" Totally forgetting in that moment that I had had breast cancer! And this, even while still taking medication to keep the beast at bay! And 11 years later I am still taking medication. You know, if your recurrence risk is 4% then you have a 96% chance of NOT having it come back! Still, a healthy lifestyle probably even makes that an even better 96%!!! xo

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    1. Thank you! I love that sponsorship story - I've been hanging onto it! Xxx

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  9. Hi there: I have to totally agree with Sober at 53. I had stage 2a hormone positive breast cancer with just enough evidence in three nodes to buy me six months of chemo and a bilateral mastectomy (the only upside of the whole ordeal -- bigger boobs!!). That was eight years ago. You're less than a year out, and at that point, I thought I would never, ever get free of the fear again. But now, days, even weeks go by and I don't think about it. That said, I truly believe there is an element of PTSD that goes with the territory. It is such a random disease and hits most of us out of the blue. I think I spend a lot more time thinking that every twinge or bump is cancer than most people. And it was a few years before I felt good about making long term plans (I thought it tempted the cancer gods). That said, I drank before, during, and for six-plus years after the treatment, and my ability to come to peace with the damn disease (or at least a nervous truce) really didn't come until I put down the bottle. Only then could I get where it sounds like you are now -- appreciating this moment. I'm not sick right now, it is beautiful outside, I have a nice place to work, etc. Yes, we will all die, but I am not dead right now. And, because I am sober, I am able to enjoy and experience this alive time right now. So, besides the physical health benefits of not drinking, I think your sobriety is probably allowing you a level of mental/spiritual healing that too many survivors don't and might never have.

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    1. Hi Kate, and thanks so much for your words. It really helps hearing that the fear fades. I am truly thankful that I quit drinking before the diagnosis. I never could have done it afterwards, and I'd be a really big mess right now ;-) Thanks again xxx

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  10. SM I can't imagine how you must be feeling. To paraphrase the Peanuts cartoon, one day you will die, but on all the other days you won't. Enjoy your holiday with Mr SM who I hope is spoiling you rotten.

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