Early in the year, someone close to me, someone that should know better, someone that should be one of my biggest supporters, sent a text saying something pretty horrific…
‘You have been dying for two years, it is no longer an excuse.’
Ok, everyone, pick your jaw off the floor and get out those awkward giggles that come out when you just have nothing to say.
This horrible comment was said in the context of their unhappiness with Serge and I not visiting THEM enough or not calling THEM enough. Obviously I can only put my side of the story forward, but this is someone that seems to have forgotten that they have a car and phone.
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It is hard to believe that it has been three years since I was told that I had Stage 4 Melanoma – terminal cancer.
Within a few short months I had gone from a young woman, diagnosed a year prior with Stage 1 Melanoma, to a 22 year old with Stage 3 Melanoma, to finally hearing the worst news possible – I was Stage 4.
I was 22 years old and had already explored and worked in some of the most isolated places in the world and with the most exciting future ahead of me, to a 22 year old stripped of all my hopes and dreams and left to face my mortality.
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A few weeks ago, in the midst of total physical and emotional exhaustion, I found myself binging on Netflix. I have no idea how I managed to live life before Netflix? What did I do with my free time?
I got through the most recent season of Pretty Little Liars and was really struggling to find something else to watch. I stumbled across Chasing Life, an American show about a 24 year old with cancer. I normally avoid shows and movies about cancer, but I was desperate and thought I could justify it as research for the blog. I was expecting to pull it apart and criticise how ridiculous it was or I was setting myself up for lots of crying. I was so wrong on both accounts.
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My birthday is less than a month away and I am already feeling the stress and emotions that have become as much part of my birthday as a delicious pavlova!
I have always loved birthdays and I have never been one to not celebrate, but the last few years, since being sick, birthdays have become increasingly difficult.
My 23rd birthday in 2014 we went big because it was my first birthday since my prognosis and the importance of celebrations, due to not knowing if it would be my last, was at the forefront of my mind as well as friends and family. I remember struggling on the day, but not as much as I did last year.
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