I'm struggling to think of anything funny about having cancer.
Yes, I've had 'amusing' incidents with medical staff (when my leg suddenly swelled with lymphoedema & my dressings nurse told the consultant 'it looked like an elephant's ***) is one of several 'titters' along my 16 year cancer journey. I also laugh with my fellow cancer patients about my 'Nora Batty' compression tights I wear for my lymphoedema, but otherwise - no, there is nothing remotely funny about cancer & it's treatment in my view - and that's something coming from a 30 year served Police Officer who has the darkest humour!
I was in the waiting area for radiotherapy where they had Good Morning Britain on the TV. They were talking about 'grief' and then I noticed the man in front of me was reading 'The final hours'. Laugh or cry?
Definitely laugh. My son reckons Im lucky having cancer because I get free toothpaste (prescription only) and free parking at the Hospital. I did have a laugh at my first visit to hospital. Finding the waiting room full I sat in the empty adjoining waiting area and wondered why nobody else was availing themselves of all the space. On reading the posters on the wall I found I was sat in the STI clinic. Had to laugh. As with cancer there is still a stigma around this.
When diagnosed I had to have major surgery to remove all the nodes in my groin & pelvis. They had to move my bowel aside to get to the pelvic nodes which meant I was in excruciating pain for 12 hours due to the air that was trapped in my stomach (I was warned this would happen). I couldn't sleep & the next morning I looked like death. An 80 year old lady in the opposite bed had had the same op 3 days before me & recognised my discomfort. In a soft Irish accent this little old lady shouted across the ward 'Angela, if you have to fart, fart!' You can imagine the uproar on the ward & at least it made me laugh!
When diagnosed I had to have major surgery to remove all the nodes in my groin & pelvis. They had to move my bowel aside to get to the pelvic nodes which meant I was in excruciating pain for 12 hours due to the air that was trapped in my stomach (I was warned this would happen). I couldn't sleep & the next morning I looked like death. An 80 year old lady in the opposite bed had had the same op 3 days before me & recognised my discomfort. In a soft Irish accent this little old lady shouted across the ward 'Angela, if you have to fart, fart!' You can imagine the uproar on the ward & at least it made me laugh!
Love it. Someone waits in the VD room and someone farts in a full ward. I laughed. When I got a speeding notice my friend said " write back and tell them you've got cancer". Since then it has become a joke. Jump the queue, you've got cancer etc. A bit more seriously I do think if I didn't see the funny side sometimes I'd just give in. Yes I'm knackered all the time, yes it takes me an hour to change my bedding, yes I'm full of aches and pains but when one of my granddaughters phones and says " I'll ask how you are, you tell and then we can get on to the serious stuff I could kiss her to death.
With something as dire as cancer, we've got to find some humour to survive.
Having had a double mastectomy, I purchased some swimming prostheses and a post mastectomy swimsuit, thinking that I was all set to get back in the water. As soon as I entered the water my prostheses appeared around my waist, as they were so heavy. I would love to have a picture of me coming out of the water that day, as I was too embarrassed to notice the reactions of people around me! Nothing deterred, I purchased lighter weight prostheses, but these filled up with air and water when I was in the pool and left my boobs floating under my chin and the prostheses trying to float out of my swimsuit. The woollen prostheses got so heavy when they were wet that I had to wring them out as surreptitiously as I could as I was getting out of the water. All was trial and some very embarrassing error! That was all 16 years ago and I'm pleased to say that I have finally found some prostheses which behave better when I'm swimming. Looking back now, I have to see the funny side of these antics.
Bet you didn't see it at the time but I really enjoyed your telling of it. I thought it would all be down hill after my diagnosis but I'm told I'm doing well. I'm not sure what that means but I'm happy to stick with that. It's a bit like getting a star for homework, but I have to say chemo, radio and immunotherapy are all tougher than any homework I've done. I haven't ventured into swimming yet but it's on my bucket list, relieved, from your tale that at least I have two boobs. On the down side I'm covered in bruises from the hundreds of blood tests, cannulas and blood transfusions I've had. In a swimming costume I'd look like I'd been in some terrible accident.
Cancer is a tough journey. Fortunately, the bruises go away, although it can be hard to accept that you're doing well. I am glad to hear that you still have two boobs. I may not have any, but I feel fortunate that I am still here despite all the intervention I've experienced. I now look on my scars and feel proud - these are the battle scars that show how far I've come in the past 16 years and they have enabled me to witness many milestones that I never expected to see.
It sounds as if you are a lot earlier in your journey and I sincerely hope that you get to achieve many of the items on your bucket list soon. I am sure that you'll look absolutely fine in a swimming suit - you just need to find the confidence to go for it.
