Thursday, August 21, 2008

And so, here is where it comes to an end. I can't believe I decided that running 14km, mainly up a piss-wreck hill that I thought would never end, was a great way to move from then til now.
But it worked!
I did make it and I have made it - shattered and wrecked and vowing to NEVER, EVER run anywhere again (not even to catch a cab!) There were some parts where Paul had to physically drag me along and other times where I just wanted to sit down and cry - it was too hard and too many parts of me hurt (I've had cancer for gods sake - didn't you know???!!!) There were also times where I was a powerhouse, pushing myself along just so I could get to the end. Running through the finish line was like running from what has been to what is now to come. And it ended just as it all started - with Paul, going through the battle with me and making sure I make it.
The voices have gone from my head that used to remind me of cancer every day. I am no longer an imposter in my own life.
I will always have the reminders of what I went through - from the blue dots tattooed onto my thighs for radiology to the memory of exactly what I went through in order to be well again.
So it's enough of this now. No more.
I am Fiona. I have made it.

Saturday, August 9, 2008

Now It's My Turn

For the past year, my life has been ruled by cancer. It has decided when I sleep, where I go and how I feel. It has stripped me back to the lowest possible level of living and made me question just what it is that makes me, me on a daily basis. It has brought on extreme bouts of angst and tears every time I have had to go back for a check up or a scan. What if that test was the one the ologist looked at my results with a frown and said 'hmmm, that doesn't look right'.
Cancer has made me feel like I am going mad because every time I get back on top the doubts creep back in again. What happens if I get sick again, what if people are fed up with having to work around my idiotic ways because my memory has gone that day or I just don't feel like I should be here. What if I get to a point where I just can't keep up the struggle anymore.
Well, tomorrow is my turn. Tomorrow is where I get to take control of my life back on my terms. Running 14km, up a hill and quite possibly in the rain is a pain I can handle if it means I prove to myself that I am most definitely alive. I can handle 2 hours of pain and breathlessness and aching and struggle because I have been through worse. Living the rest of my life in this sub-human day to day existence is what I can't stand. I am not waiting for cancer to decide when I get my life back on track, I am in control and it is my choice when I draw a line in the sand.
I will still have another 4 years of tests and scans and doubt to deal with but that is fine, because it will be on my terms.
Running 14km is a small price to pay to kick cancers arse and let it know that it's lease has come to an end - don't forget to shut the frigging door on your way out either!
The finish line tomorrow will not be a finish, but a start. Everything that has held me in this place for the past year is going to be left behind, in the middle of the road, on its own so that the rain can just wash it out to sea.
Just as this whole fiasco started with Paul being right beside me, it ends the same way - with him making sure I don't get ahead of myself, watching me like a hawk, clearing all of the roadblocks so that my life is easy, and calm, and sane.
I think every home should install a Paul!