This was me last Friday night, the day after I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was my friend’s birthday and my kids were at a sleepover somewhere else, so I saw it as a great opportunity for a piss up. And did I get proper smashed…
I don’t even remember my friend taking this picture. Neither do I remember throwing up over the verandah rail right before passing out. I just remember waking up inside, on the couch, wondering how I’d got there. It wasn’t even a little bit fun and I didn’t feel even a little bit good. I thought I’d done away with that kinda bullshit 20 years ago…but I know myself enough to understand it was exactly what I’d planned would happen. I wanted to write myself off, and I did.
Everyone else was still asleep when I woke up, so even though I felt pretty seedy I decided to drag myself home. When I got there I promptly crawled into my bed and had a few more hours’ sleep, and when I woke I felt like a Phoenix out of the ashes. I felt determined. I decided then and there that I wasn’t going to let fear overwhelm me anymore, and I was going to do my best to fight for my life with good decisions about my health & wellbeing. So I’m cutting alcohol right back and working towards cutting smoking right out. I’ve never been a big smoker- except when I’m stressing. So naturally I’d been smoking quite a bit lately. But since Friday I’ve only had 3, so I think I’m moving into the clear.
I recently saw an anagram of fear which read:
I thought it was pretty good advice, so that’s what I’m gonna do. No more hiding, no more running away, getting smashed, being an idiot. I wanna beat this cancer, and more than that- I want a beautiful life for (hopefully) many years to come.