Going Backwards

It's four weeks since I found The Lump, two weeks since The Lump was cut out and sent off to Imperial College to be part of a student research programme (I kid you not), and another 3 days in limbo before I see the oncologist to discuss "What next?"

In that time I've had the strangest sense of going backwards, of deja vue.

The cancer journey is so spookily similar to the getting-sober-journey that it's hard to believe the timing is co-incidental. It feels like the last eight months have been a warm up to the Big Event.

And the diagnosis hit me at the exact time that I was strong enough to take it. Any earlier than eight months and I'd have been staring at the bottom of several empty bottles of sauvignon blanc before you could say 'malignant tumour.'

Like going sober, dealing with The Big C is a leap into the unknown. It's about learning to live, at least for a while, in a world of uncertainty and fear.

I wrote early on about the roller coaster of emotions when you first quit drinking (see The Sobercoaster), taking you from the pink cloud to The Wall and back again. And the last few weeks have been like that again - just more so.

I lurch from feeling thrilled at just being alive to weeping uncontrollably with the dog in parks (so the children can't see).

(See my post from the early sober days on Weeping)

The tools you use to deal with all this are the same too. You take one day at a time. Baby steps. Try not to look ahead until you know you can deal with it.

Like the early sober days, I find that I have to be kind to myself (see The Importance of Self Care). Sleep in the afternoon for a while if I have to. Have hot baths. Eat cake.

And finding a tribe is crucial. People like you who've trod the path before you and can let you know what's ahead.

I found my sober tribe online because I was too ashamed to look for a real world one.

Funnily enough, confessing to cancer is way easier than confessing to an alcohol addiction, so I'm discovering a few local ladies - Mums like me - who've been through breast cancer and out the other side and can tell me what lies ahead.

I'm also using The Haven. It's a charity funded retreat in Fulham for women with breast cancer. I'm meeting a Macmillan nurse there this morning.

Bizarrely, in my previous life I was responsible for the Macmillan Cancer Support brand strategy, and all their advertising.

It's hard not to imagine the Authors of Destiny sitting on some celestial cloud chortling and patting each other on the back at their clever use of irony.

Am I losing my mind?

Love SM x