I’m not changing the title of this update, because it’s so perfect.

Those of you familiar with Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone know that the Mirror of Erised shows Harry his parents and his family. Harry’s faithful sidekick Ron The Ranga sees himself as Head Boy and being the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain. Dumbledore explains that “The happiest man on Earth would look into the mirror and see only himself, exactly as he is.”

The mirror shows your deepest desires. (Erised – desirE. Get it?)

I have been so looking forward to having a break from treatment, even for just a couple of weeks to go back to sAdelaide, that being able to nick off for a week or so didn’t even cross my mind as a possible thing that could be taken away from me. I was just so certain that I was going to finally stop having chemo for a bit, go and relax in bAdelaide at my parents’ house, and have just a few days where I didn’t have to be reminded that I have a part of my body waging war against the rest of me. As of Thursday at 5pm, I found out that my finishing chemo celebration was a little pre-emptive when my oncologist called me at home to tell me I’m having another two sessions of chemo, before I have my oophorectomy (there’s a new word for you, kids!) in April sometime. I’ve gone from having a plan drafted out in pencil to start some of my travels soon, to having to erase half of it and leaving it blank again. It was such a blow, honestly. I’m still flaming mad about it and it’s four days later. Technically, I can say no, I don’t want to do the additional two sessions, but I think that would just be foolish and stupid. Suck it up, princess, do the chemo, and take a break a little later.

One of the things that has been on the backburner in my mind over the past couple of months has been what I want to do with the rest of my life – what is important to me, what is a priority, what I can let go of, and how I want to be remembered.

What’s important to me right now is just being able to live and do as much as I possibly can in the time that I’m given, without stressing myself out or exhausting myself. As my oncologist said to me the afternoon she broke the news to me about it being metastatic, it’s all about quality and not quantity. That said, I want a large quantity of quality times. Roadtrips, food, exploring, having mini adventures. That’s what I want to do.

I know I want to travel. Y’all know I want to travel. It’s no secret. I have so many plans that I am just waiting for the all-clear and the money to be able to start seeing what I can of the world while I’m well enough to do so. I feel a sense of urgency to get it done sooner rather than later, and it’s frustrating to have to wait and see what’s happening with surgery and ongoing treatment. I’ve decided on the first trip and destinations – New York, Chicago and Niagara Falls – and now it’s just a matter of making it happen and hoping that I’m not in the middle of another round of chemo when I want to go. I want to share my travels with people too. There are a couple of trips that I’m saving for particular people, but otherwise it’s pretty much open season, especially Disney Around The World. I’ll post dates and flight details, and you’re welcome to join me along the trails.

There are dreams of mine that I’ve had to let go of – the biggest one being having my own children and passing this awesome DNA on to another generation. I’ve been single now for coming up to five years, and whilst I was unprepared for the emotional bitchslap of being asked frankly “how important is having children to you” from a fertility preservation specialist, my decision to push on with treatment and not freeze eggs or have part of my ovary removed or whatever else it was they were offering was a relatively easy one. Having luck like mine and hormone positive cancer meant that going through the ovary stimulation process was not an option at all for me. Firstly, it would have delayed chemo by 16 days when my surgeon had stressed that it was important that I start chemo as soon as possible. Secondly, I’m pretty certain that pumping me full of the hormone that my cancer uses to grow just to get some eggs harvested was going to be a bad idea. Thirdly, I didn’t know what my prognosis was, and thinking about potential future humans was the most ridiculous thing I could think of dedicating brain power to just two days out from diagnosis.

As for marriage, if anyone has any ideas about how to date with terminal cancer, let me know. I’m all ears.

I was talking to the psych at the Peter Mac last week about legacies, and rambling at him about half-baked ideas and thoughts I’ve been having with regards to doing something useful with my story. I know from my own readings and what other people have told me, that the way that I talk about my experience is different to other people. I don’t talk about hope, and fear, and those other bullshit useless emotions. As I said to the Aboriginal Liaison when we caught up for a yarn before my most recent oncology appointment, fuck hope. As bleak as it is, at the end of the day, there is no logic to hope in my situation. I have cancer, it’s metastatic, it’s going to come back, it’s going to grow, and it’s going to kill me. I accepted that fact months ago, and I’ve just been getting on with life as best I can in my circumstances since. I had a choice when I was told – I could drown in a puddle of my own tears, or I could swim through them and take a moment to sit on the edge to gather my thoughts and then get on with things. I chose the latter, because the world keeps moving on around me. I can join in or I can let it pass me by. Most days, I choose to join in. I was a wallower as a teenager, more than content to go all pruney in a bathtub filled with my own tears, but that’s not me as an adult. I’m far too practical for that now.

I don’t have the resources at hand to build something like Connie & Sam’s “Love Your Sister” legacy. What they have done and are doing to contribute to cancer research – not just breast cancer, but all cancer – is huge, and to even consider competing would be fucking stupid. Cancer isn’t a competition. I would rather work with them than just do a less meaningful watered-down version of what they’re already doing. I’ve got a couple of ideas – one small, one medium sized, and one larger – to get the ball rolling on my own plans. I’ve been concerned that it’s self-important to want to leave something behind for everyone, and I’ve been reassured that it’s most definitely not. It’s not egotistical to want to leave something behind, to leave something that brings happiness and education and understanding to someone else, so I’m going to work away on things that I find enjoyable that might benefit others, find a way to get visibility and give people a set of different feels about the whole thing. And I’ll ask for help when the time is right.

I try not to get hung up on all the things I won’t get to do, or places I might not get to go because of illness, or dwell on intrusive and completely unhelpful sad things. I just don’t need that kind of negativity in my life. It’s not that I’m some converted “woo” hippie who believes chakra realigning and crystal therapy will cure my cancer or anything, but these intrusive thoughts fuck with my mojo and bring me down. I don’t want to feel all sad and mopey about the fact I have cancer. I can’t change that I have cancer, I can only go through treatment for it, and hope that it gives me as much time as possible, so I can achieve as many things as possible. I’m not hoping that it will miraculously disappear and never come back, because I’ll get hung up on that and won’t cope when the inevitable re-cancering happens.

In the wise words of Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore:

“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that.”

 

(I’ve got a great idea for a reality show – The Terminal Terminal, where a bunch of people dying of different diseases sit in an airport before amazing overseas flights and try to pick up. Couldn’t be any worse than “I’m A Celebrity…”, right?)