I know some people think I’m odd and weird and crazy, for being all smiley for such a sh*tty diagnosis.
Truth is – how I really feel doesn’t really matter, does it? I have cancer. There’s no easy way to say it. I had a gigantic tumour in my tit. It was 8.5 * 7.5 cm – in comparison, the International Tennis Federation (ITF) defines the official diameter (of a tennis ball) as 6.54–6.86 cm (2.57–2.70 inches). It’s not something I can throw away or get rid of. I don’t have a choice in the matter.
I was lucky. My tumour is new. It hasn’t spread and is responding extremely well to treatment. But it’s a sh*tty kind of cancer, I have surgery and years of medication ahead of me, and I have no guarantees that I won’t get metastatic cancer in a year or ten.
I also have muscular dystrophy and osteoarthritis in my lower back. This means that I will never have a functioning body.
It would be a lot easier for me to just give up.
I’m not a quitter. I’m a survivor. My way of surviving this is to laugh and smile and be happy – cos if I start crying, I wouldn’t have the strength to stop. Besides, that’s not going to help anyone, least of all me. I refuse to feel sorry for myself. I refuse to be a sulking, complaining b*tch (apart from when I haven’t slept properly cos of hot flashes during the night).
My choice – to be still smiling.
No. Smiling a a diagnosis is not a sign of madness.
A while back I was ill for a long time with the professionals confused and being no real help.
Finally, well over a year later, I was diagnosed. Having spent so long in pain and fear, having someone say ‘Yeah, that’s what it is’ is a wonderful, blessed release. The final confirmation that it is actually something. That you haven’t been imagining it. That all the people that have been accusing you of making it up can go fuck themselves.
Aside from the fact that you can now start getting care and treatment… Aside from the fact that you can now be pidgeonholed by all of the healthcare services, so they will stop treating you like a liar… Aside from all of that. You finally KNOW that it wasn’t all in your head. It is real. It is something. And you now have a name for that something.
When I was finally told of my diagnosis, the neurologist said ‘Well, you are taking it a lot better than most’. I guess he had spotted the relief and the GRIN!!!!
If you have been in the hell of unknowing for any length of time, finally knowing is a wonderful thing.
Look at it this way… You already had it. Being told what it is you have isn’t going to make it any worse. But everyone knowing what you have means that people can start working on doing what they can to make it better. Being told what you have should never be a bad thing.
Oh, me? I’ve got MS.