I've been widowed, endured various types of abuse throughout life. Thought after getting through therapies for mental health issues that id get a break.
Surely some months of respite from turmoil.
Then along came tumoursaurus rex. Where from?
I was healthy, fit, able, working, giving, caring. Now it was my turn to focus in.
Not used to focusing on me. It was hard. But, blood in urine post menopause set off alarm bells.
My late husband had died of multiple aggressive, metastatic cancers. I'd watched him die. I'd had flashbacks of the hospital bed in our house. Would my story be the same?
Never before have I just had to learn to prioritise or to get things in perspective.
Mine was contained, a single tumour. Non invasive, treated, treatable.
