anneiskeepingbusy

Yesterday, I threw away Moving Forward: Living With and Beyond Breast Cancer, the folder of information I was given over two years ago, when I finished my cancer treatment. It had sat of the shelf, largely unregarded, both a symbol of hope – the living beyond breast cancer bit – and a slightly menacing “what if” threat – living with breast cancer. Even though I haven’t actually used the information, it took a bit of courage to decide I could do without it. I don’t like to think of myself as a superstitious person but, as I’ve said on this blog before, when push comes to shove, it’s strange the things you are prepared to believe have some power.

So, an update. Despite believing in the power of an information folder, I am not as bonkers as I was two years ago, or even this time last year. Which is good. I worry less, which is also good, although I still have my moments (ask the good Russell, who has recently talked me out of having hip, toe and ear cancer).

One of my techniques is to try to avoid things to do with cancer. This may be cowardly; it’s also tricky. Over this last weekend, for example, we’ve had:

1. Selfies without makeup and the subsequent fuss about whether they are an appropriate way to raise money for cancer research (and, for the record, yes they are – not one of those good ladies was saying that going without make up is the same as having treatment for cancer).

2. The headline on The Sunday Times today, plus the campaign they are now launching.

Good news here is reading that almost 80% of breast cancer patients survive for over 5 years. Bad news, I do not want to be “betrayed” by the NHS (which is a stupid, unhelpful word anyway and certainly not what happened to me).

3. A link on Facebook about a group of women who shaved their heads in sympathy with a friend who has cancer. You can see it here – it’s nice, very moving.

4. Critics Choice in the TV guide for Wednesday 26th March is “Kris – Dying to Live“, about an amazing young woman called Kris who has late-stage breast cancer, cannot be cured, and who is now running a breast awareness campaign called CoppaFeel. I urge you all to go the website and do what it says.

I have a dilemma here. I know that breast cancer has such good survival rates because women before me made a huge fuss, and that continuing to make a huge fuss, and not just about breast cancer, is good for those coming next. I know that I benefited from a great deal of support (although, friends, I didn’t see anyone shaving their heads for me #disappointinginretrospect). On the other hand, everyone, just shut up. Two and a half years on from diagnosis, and I still feel weak and feeble faced with the mention of the word, cancer. It’s why I still haven’t watched Breaking Bad, why I couldn’t watch Halley dying on Coronation Street and why I heaved a huge sigh of relief when Ruth in The Archers was shouting at everyone because she was pregnant and not because her cancer had returned.

It’a all on the one hand, but on the other. This may help to explain why, although I could throw out Moving Forward, I still have my wig in its pink box, lurking under a cupboard, like one of those big worms in Tremors, waiting to snap at me. A bit like this:

Of course, thanks to Kevin Bacon and co, the bad worms were beaten, which is what we all want from the general and ongoing cancer narrative. It’s probably all worthwhile, and I just have to get on with it.

And now I’m going to stop. I think this Tremors analogy has gone as far as was ever useful.