It's a year now since my third diagnosis of breast cancer. Yes that's right, third. Once is unlucky, twice is a shock, third is more wtf! But it's still a primary cancer so bizarrely I feel lucky. But none the less it's been a tough year and over the last few months I'm gradually accepting that this is just my story.
And like most stories it has a beginning, a middle and an end. And this is still the middle, the meat in the sandwich, the arc of the narrative, the -to be continued- rather than the end. Thank goodness. Sort of. Because I don't know the rules for a three times diagnosis. It's not the end that much I know. It's not even the beginning of the end as far as I know. It's more of an oops I did it again and this time meant a mastectomy and reconstruction. A flipping great scar across more that half my body, a reconstructed breast that is quite amazing and a stamina that was left on the operating table.
So this year has been the gradual acceptance of my new reality, a painful back and slight limp at times and an increase in breathlessness when I'm overtired. And a slow return to strength which is feeling more sustainable. And a gradual re-prioritising has shaped my year. I've had really wonderful family and friends time this year as well as been involved with some really great work that I've enjoyed immensely. I've focused on what brings me joy and realised that's not only social time it's also some of the work I do.
If I have one word to symbolise this year it's been connection. Connection to people I love has been a vital, life-giving, force for me. I've found joy in so many things, from dinners round the table, to singing together, to watching sunsets on a beautiful balcony, to fireworks set to music, to a family treat to Rome; it's been wonderful. I'm deeply grateful for those times and how precious they are.
Internally too it's about connection as I'm probably more connected to what's important to me than ever before. I'm trusting myself to follow what's right and letting go of controlling the outcomes of this life story. I'm navigating the waves of the storm more confidently than ever before. I admit to getting sea-sick now and again and weary too but strangely enough I'm not scared.
Finally I'm accepting the words of The Anthem by Leonard Cohen, that wonderful story teller, who I've grieved for this year.
"Ring the bell that still can ring, forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything.....it's how the light gets in."
