Whoaaaaaaah, I’m halfway there….

Whoaaaahhh,

My first big measurable milestone – I’ve now read half my height in books! I’m properly chuffed – I genuinely didn’t think I’d stick at it this long.

Here’s the stack!

Some reflections:

· I can now watch a whole film from start to finish without needing a break.

Sandie 1 – 0 Post-chemo Brainfog.
I’ve been doing other things to help with attention and mindfulness too like puzzles, bullet journalling, walks, and grounding (although encouraging me to run around in my bare feet is not exactly hard) and this is starting to pay off.

· The ban on tough themes has been lifted (but there’s still a long way to go in representing the cancer journey)

2021 was littered with a mixture of safe favourites, books that had been pre-googled using ‘cancer’ and ‘death’ as additional keywords to check for safety, and many books that were abandoned as they were just too much. In this month alone I’ve managed to read about domestic violence, mental health, infertility, death and – my Kryptonite – cancer.

Cancer = you make it or you don’t, right? I made a point of using the C word as much as possible to normalise my diagnosis so it’s not the topic itself that upsets me, more the fact that cancer is EVERYWHERE in books, TV, films and has two outcomes: a) the person dies b) the person is told they are cancer free (this is Most Definitely not what you are told) and go skipping away to live their life happily ever after (I’m over a year post-treatment and this hasn’t happened yet). Cancer is so horribly misrepresented. When I was diagnosed, my mind went straight to the image we’ve all seen in a 90s film/TV programme – the patient is ghostlike, throwing up, unable to get out of bed and generally looking a dead shade of grey. You don’t get to experience the realities: work, the ridiculous amount of new vocabulary, finding a bloody bra to fit, navigating a hospital, knowing what to ask, staying away from Dr Google, and The Utter Hell that was finding a thermometer and a pack of paracetamol during a pandemic. Before surgery, I actually had to google what my scars might look like, as I’d never actually seen a breast cancer surgery scar before. Then, once you’re finished treatment, there’s navigating chemo hair, dealing with chronic pain, jumping at every twinge or bump and learning how to make a sandwich again all while grappling with the thought you should be grateful you’re alive but you aren’t. Cancer’s so prevalent that it really should be written about a lot, but the finality of ‘the end’ has to go. There’s a whole heap more to it than that.

· There’s more to talk about.

Here’s my favourite metaphor for cancer recovery: thinking of your life like a filing cabinet. At first, cancer is the only file you can look at, as it’s the only one there. After a while when you start to do more things, there are more files in your cabinet and while the cancer file still comes up you find it gets filed towards the back more often. I look forward to the day my metaphorical cancer file looks dusty.

Cancer makes your life pretty small. Books have added a nice dimension and response to ‘so what have you been up to?’ and I’ve had some fabulous late-night chats with friends. You know who you are, fellow night owls! A most wonderful human sent me two books to help with my goal which made my day. The power of kindness.


· I’m actually proud of myself.

Self-worth is so important, and cancer strips you of it completely. I’m allowing myself a pat on the back for the reading milestone, and another for recognising this.

· Last but not least: fuck cancer.