May Contain Nuts

Life after cancer is weird.

Friday night, I went to my first gig in 11 months and I learnt a few things about my new self. I don’t look ill. I look weird, just not cancer ill. I was very aware that people may have been looking at me and thinking – did she actually choose to have that hair cut? I have too much hair to be wearing one of my hats, but not enough hair to have a style as such. It’s thick and bushy and just there. But so is my facial hair! I thought I looked like Noddy Holder…

I realise now that I actually look more like Monkey…

… maybe the eyebrows are not as accurate, but I have thought about wearing headbands and this is all I can visualise.

What I am not seeing is what got me here in the first place. The doctors appointment, the mammogram and ultrasound, the biopsy, the second ultrasound and biopsy, the MRI, the picc line surgery, the 12 rounds of paclitaxel, the 4 rounds of carboplatin, the 8 rounds of pembrolizumab, the 40 tamoxifen injections, the 4 rounds of epirubicin, the 4 rounds of cyclophosphamide, the second mammogram and third ultrasound, the 18 blood tests, the lumpectomy day surgery, the 10 rounds of radiotherapy, the 34 district nurse visits, and the untold amount of pills and creams on top of that (anti-sickness, steroids, thyroid, pain relief, diarrhoea, cooling gel, soothing lotion, daily creams) and all the other forgotten things that got me to this date. The NHS has spent hundreds of thousands of pounds to keep me alive, and all some strangers saw was a tubby woman with a weird haircut. I say tubby woman, a waiter, the other week, directed me to the men’s toilet. So maybe I do look more like Monkey or Noddy Holder?

My point is, I had a brilliant time and no-one, apart from my friends, knew what I had been through recently. Just like we don’t know what those strangers had been through to get where they are today. Some scars are hidden, some are invisible, some have healed so much that it’s hard to see where they are anymore. But we all see our own scars and we all carry them with us. So why are we not kinder to each other?

I’m not an expert on cancer, I’m an expert on what I went through on my journey. My advice may not help someone else, but kindness and thoughtfulness will. They were the things that kept me going during my darkest times. The messages from friends, the cuddles from my family, the gentle touches and hugs from those who came to see me, the gifts, the compliment from a stranger telling me what a lovely colour my hair is, being told that I am in peoples prayers and thoughts. All of it. The human kindness and empathy that I received filled my heart. And this tubby woman is so grateful for everything; especially all the breakfast, lunch, dinner dates, walks, evenings out, evenings in, and those who popped in to see me on their way home from work or who were just passing by. So much kindness and so much love.

What I have learned is how much one small gesture of kindness can mean. It can make the forgotten feel seen, and that can completely change someone’s day. Don’t put off that text/call, do it now. If someone pops into your head, tell them you’re thinking of them. We are all so different and we all have hidden scars that we cover every day, or demons that we battle with. Kindness is universal.

Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see – Mark Twain