I've stared Death in the Face and Punched it in the throat ??

Happy Anniversay!!!!! Yes today I choose to celebrate rather than commiserate. Today is my 3 year cancerversary, yes that's right, 3 years ago today I collapsed in pain after feeling discomfort and pain for a couple of weeks leading up to the collapse. I remember it vividly, I was staying in a hotel with my then partner and he had gone to a chemist across the road to get me some hay fever medicine.

I fell to the floor, pain shooting up my abdomen into my throat, taking my breath away, thinking fuck this is it, something bad is going on here, something I can't talk my way out of, I'm in trouble.

I couldn't avoid it anymore, I had to be honest with myself, I had to face what I had been actively avoiding, I had to go to the doctor to confirm what I was already suspecting. I'm not going to bore you with the ins and outs of a ducks asshole , i've been through all of this before in a previous blog, long story short, the cancer was back and it brought lots of friends with it this time.

I have been through so many things since being diagnosed terminal, told I would have weeks or months to live, operations after operations, chemo's, radiation, immunotherapies, numerous emergency department visit's, a couple of ICU stays,
near fatal tumour bleeds, rendered unconscious from too much morphine being administered by the ambulance officers, bladder has stopped working, left foot stopped working, living with 24 hour pain and it goes on and on.

So many tears have been shed over this disease, so many hearts have been broken, friends and family have rushed to the hospital in fear that they may not make it there before I pass, many an hour has been wasted by those I love, pacing cold hospital hallways or sharing bedside vigils, the Priest has sat at my bedside and performed the last rites.

This roller coaster ride has not been my own, those I love and care about have been dragged almost kicking and screaming into this relentless battle with this bastard of a disease, not knowing from day to day if I'm going to have that final bleed, that one that the doctors and nurses have told me I will most likely have and not even know it.

Imagine your body turning against you, your own body trying to kill you. I've often looked at myself in he mirror, studying my scars and thought how could this happen? I'm not meant to be getting cat scans at my age, I'm meant to be getting ultrasounds to tell me the sex of my baby, not scans telling me that my tumours have grown or remained the same. I'm not meant to be picking out hymns for my funeral, I'm meant to be picking the song for my first dance at my wedding, I'm not meant to be parking in disabled parking spots and hobbling like an 80 year old with a dodgy hip. So many I'm not's, so many it's not fairs, but sadly this is my story and it's more of a horror story than a fairytale.

We make the most of every day, I stare at my niece and can feel the love she has for me, I love the moments when she just walks up to me and hugs me telling me she loves me and these moments happen often, unprompted little moments of pure honest love, the type of love that compares to no other.

My parents are meant to be my parents, we're meant to meet up on a Sunday for a family dinner, I'm not meant to be living with them and they're certainly not meant to be my carers, no parent should have to see their child in excruciating pain or witness their child's eyes roll back into their head and not know whether they're dead or alive, no father should have to carry his daughter into an emergency department, not knowing if she is bleeding to death. No mother should have to go through her daughters belongings to see what she would like to receive in her will or inject her daughter with painful sickness meds to the point that she sees her daughters ass more than she's seen her own.

My brother is meant to be a groomsman at my wedding, not a pall bearer at my funeral, his wife is meant to be a bridesmaid and not be reading a prayer at her sister in laws funeral.

All of those doctors who've seen my reports before they've seen me and already determined that I'm as good as dead and spoken to me like I already had an express ticket to the big pearly gates in the sky, to you I say "never judge a book by its cover" and "thank-you for not giving up, even though you probably should have".

Bald as a badger, skinny as a rake, fat as a heifer, bloated and swollen as a zit about to pop, pale and pasty, scabbed and scarred, bruised and battered, rashes and burns, deep vein thrombosis, nerve damage and memory loss, name a side effect and I've had it, name a treatment I've done it, find me a cure and ill take it.

3 years today and I am celebrating not commiserating. I'm celebrating the fact that this disease has been trying to knock me off this whole time, I'm staring death in the face and every time I've gotten back up and punched it in the throat. This isn't going to be one of those posts that ends with"and I wouldn't have it any other way", anyone whose gone through this shit and says that they wouldn't have it any other way is kidding themselves and bullshitting you. I would rather have it any other way.

I am proud of myself for starting this blog, years after I should have and I am grateful for you fabulous rockstars who have embraced my story and me as if they were your own. I love the messages of support and guidance I receive, I especially love the ones that tell me they are thankful that I put these thoughts out there, when so many others wouldn't and for that they feel they are not alone in their journey, whether they have cancer or not. I love our terminally fabulous family, you lift my spirits when they are at their lowest and give me strength when I need it the most. Just as I am thankful for my family and friends, I am thankful for you my terminally fabulous rockstars and don't forget to stay fabulous ❤️🤘🏼