How are you? How are you, really?

Looking back to 6 months ago, I realise how far I’ve come.

6 months ago, I posted this on my personal instagram feed. It’s nice to see how far I’ve come.

How are you?

I am SO lucky that so many people care enough to ask me how I am. And I always answer, ‘Yeah I’m really good. Getting used to my new normal’.

Social media would have you believe that I’m totally fine, doing amazing even, post cancer. I’ve just done a triathlon and a 10km trail race and got myself an age group podium in both. I’m super happy and proud of myself. It feels good to prove I’ve still got it. For an old bird.

But the reality is I’m still a long way from being me.

Cancer is the hardest thing I’ve had to deal with and I’m tired. My body is tired. My brain is tired. I don’t remember what it feels like not to feel tired. And rest doesn’t seem to do much, other than make me feel lethargic and grumpy. So I push through because it makes me feel better. But sometimes it feels exhausting.

I’m also scared. Cancer is never far from my thoughts. I feel I’ve done everything I can to prevent it coming back. But recurrence is a real risk - for the rest of my life. I’m not frightened of dying. I’m just so scared to leave my babies without a mummy.

My brain doesn’t work. I used to pride myself on being sharp and ‘on it’. But now, unless I write it down, I literally can’t remember anything. It’s almost funny that I regularly forget my best friends’ names. Except that it’s not. It’s called chemo brain. It’s frustrating and concerning and it makes me feel not like me.

But the worst of it is my feet! My feet hurt a LOT. It’s the most difficult and surprising side effect of the hormone therapy drugs I take. Sometimes it’s totally manageable. But some days it literally feels like someone is twisting a knife into my heel bones. I’m not ready to give up running or climbing yet, even though I know they make it worse. It’s too much a part of who I am. So, it’s a battle.

So in answer to the question : I am really good. Honestly. My life is amazing. But I just wanted to say I’m also not ok. Cancer doesn’t stop when the treatment stops - it’s going to take a long time. Thank you to my family and friends for being patient. X

I’m proud of how far I’ve come in the last 6 months.

And now, 6 months on?

I’m really good. Genuinely. I have better days and less good ones. But when I look back on the girl who wrote that post, I feel like a different person.

For a start, I’m a lot less broken. I’m no longer dog tired, exhausted, and trying to push myself to snap back to my normal self.

I don’t need to go to bed at 9pm every night and need 8 hours sleep just to get through the next day.

I’ve eased off on breaking myself and pushing too hard to get back to previous fitness. I am totally proud of myself - and a little bit astonished - that I managed to stand on two podiums within a year of finishing chemo. But I shouldn’t have put so much pressure on myself.

I don’t think it did my feet any favours. And I’ve now been forced to take a 3 month break from running, which I have definitely not loved. But on the plus side, my feet a feeling a lot better than they were. Not fixed - yet - but on the mend. I’ve recently started little runs again, so fingers crossed that will continue to improve.

I’m no longer all consumed by fear of recurrence. I’ve had a lot of therapy time around this subject as it was crippling me. And now? I genuinely don’t think about my cancer with fear. Of course, it never goes away, it crosses my mind every day. But I’ve learnt to accept that it’s a part of my life story. And to live alongside - and at peace with - the fear. Mostly!

And the chemo brain. My brain still doesn’t work as well as it used to. I still rely heavily on lists. I frequently forget words. But the full on debilitating memory loss and persistent fogginess has definitely lifted. Social events don’t cripple me like they used to. Working motivates me rather than terrifies me. My kids no longer beat me at memory games.

I feel capable and normal again.

I can trust my own judgement.

I am learning to love myself again.

It’s still a process.

I’ll let you know how I’m doing in another 6 months.

I’m finding a more settled peace with myself and my new body. It’s taking time.