Halloween marks two years since my engagement to Serge. Last year I wrote a post dedicated to Serge – it was heartfelt and loved up (you can read it here). I am too lazy for that nonsense this year! Instead, I thought I would answer the question that you often ask – how did Serge and I get engage?
Read MoreThe battle of words
For those of you that follow the Dear Melanoma Facebook Page, you would know that I do not like using the terms ‘fighter’ and ‘warrior’ when referring to my journey with melanoma and terminal cancer, nor will you ever hear me refer to another person using these terms. This is purely personal, as I know many gain strength from such terms.
A few days ago, I was discussing this with a friend and it prompted me to write a blog about why I do not find strength in these words, but instead frustration. I am not asking people to stop using these terms, but it is important for people following my blog to understand why I may hesitate to be part of awareness activities or conversations that use these labels.
However, most importantly, I want people to leave this blog understanding that everyone’s journey is different. Everyone responds to their diagnosis, or their loved ones diagnosis, in different ways. Everyone has a different way of coping.
Read MoreThe year that was
I thought I would get in early and reflect on the year, and what a year it has been!
As I always say, most people would consider that my year has been the epitome of shitty, but gosh there was a lot of joy shoved in there.
It was January 6 when we found out that my treatment was not working and the cancer had spread to most of my major organs. And it was on this date that I asked my doctor how long I had to live, and the response was only months. We were told to go and do what we had to do and to live… you know its not good when your doctor gives you that kind of freedom!
With this news, we entered 2014 with the need to make memories.
Read MoreA dedication to my husband. Serge
In January, I was sitting down with a palliative care team discussing how I wanted to die. I did not ask about what I could expect. I didn’t ask about the pain I would feel. I did not ask about how I will lose my independence. I already knew what to expect from my last months or weeks of my life.
Instead, I told the palliative care team what I wanted. I told them how I wanted to die. I wanted to die in my family home. I did not want to spend my last days in a hospital. I wanted to die in the bed I share with my husband. I did not want to be forced into a single hospital bed away from my husband.
I know that my last weeks aren’t going to be nice and I am either going to be in pain or out to it on painkillers, but all I can wish for is an ounce of control. Control that cancer would slowly take away from me.
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