As of last night I was writing a few snippets and such about Find Your Sense of Tumour, which turned out to be a pretty great experience all in all. However, having woken up this morning to then immediately endure one of the worst panic attacks I think I've ever had to suffer through, I thought I'd change the tone of this entry and talk about something that's a bit of a grey area for cancer survivors.
The very thought of having to endure some kind of psychological issue has always shitted me up a fair bit. Obviously no one goes through their life without avoiding some kind of mental trauma along the way, no matter how devastating or inconsequential it may be to their everyday life. The fact is, every human being has a unique psychological bedrock that's equipped to deal with certain challenges or obstacles (or whatever you'd like to call them) in an ostensibly myriad amount of ways.
But is that really true?
I would agree to a certain point. The resilience of the human mind is an incredible thing to behold, and something that I've recently seen first hand amongst some remarkably headstrong individuals. Saying that though, an experience such as cancer or anything that not only brings one's mortality into question, but also their ability to perhaps live a normal lifestyle, can be potentially devastating to the manner in which they compose themselves and deal with issues that are mostly flatulent or paltry. What I'm getting at, and this is beginning to concern me on a personal level here, is how does one keep a hold on things when there is seemingly no end to the problems that are piling up on the horizon?
To make this explicitly about me, then. I worry about a lot of things. Uni, for example. Have I made the correct decision in coming back this early? Can I juggle treatment with a steady routine of work? Can I keep myself motivated to work through the random bouts of pain in order to keep on top? If the last few days are anything to go by, then most certainly not. And that's not all. What about life after uni? How can I work if I'm being consistently perturbed by little niggles that have a worrying tendency to develop into drawn out calamities? And then there's a potential family life. Will I be able to even start a family, let alone provide for one?
A whole amalgamation of worries there that might seem a bit overblown, yes I admit. But I can't deny the fact that for me right now it's the elephant in the room, and the more I try to leave it and ignore it the more it begins to have an ill-effect on my general well being. I can deal with with a bit of anxiety here and there no problem, but full blown panic attacks during the morning routine of Rice Krispies and tea? Nu uh.
I'm not entirely sure what I want to achieve with this post. I usually use this blog as a form of lighthearted release - a jovial look into the world of a cancer survivor. Very rarely do I use it as an attempt to reach out and make real sense of the horrors that this awful affliction can bring to the table. But now, maybe more than ever, I think I need to know if there is a right way to do this or a wrong way to do this and, more importantly, if I'm actually doing it right or doing it wrong. Some guidance would be a bit tidy.
Sorry if this seems a bit unhinged. I'm not doing nearly as bad as the mood of the writing suggests, and I'm as confident as ever that I'll pull out of this with my head held high. It's just difficult to be reminded that all this cancer business doesn't just end with the word 'remission'. It sticks with you for a long, long time. Maybe not in your bone marrow, but certainly in your head.
I just hope I don't become part of the cliche and have it define who I am as a person.
Big love,
Ryan.
Tuesday 28 February 2012
Thursday 23 February 2012
Oh, and also.
Any of you feeling charitable? Well you should be, because my old man and my girlfriend are putting themselves through some physical torment all in the name of helping others and it would be great if you could throw a few pounds to both of them (or just one if you're the kind of person who likes picking favourites) as they definitely deserve it. You could probably hazard a good guess as to what charities they're raising money for as well...
My Dad is taking part in one of Beefy's walks in Birmingham during April and is looking to raise £750. You can find his page here.
And in May Ellise is doing a 10K run dressed as a superhero. If that doesn't make you donate money well then what the hell is wrong with you? Her page rests here.
I know I post a lot of these charity things put what's a man supposed to do when he inspires such good will? But seriously, it'd be absolutely incredible if you could spare the slightest amount for these two incredible people. They need your support!
Big love,
Ryan.
My Dad is taking part in one of Beefy's walks in Birmingham during April and is looking to raise £750. You can find his page here.
And in May Ellise is doing a 10K run dressed as a superhero. If that doesn't make you donate money well then what the hell is wrong with you? Her page rests here.
I know I post a lot of these charity things put what's a man supposed to do when he inspires such good will? But seriously, it'd be absolutely incredible if you could spare the slightest amount for these two incredible people. They need your support!
Big love,
Ryan.
Ong-Bak 4: Something about Pneumonia.
Like a grizzly bear rolling out of his cave after the long winter months, I have returned from hibernation. Or exile. Or pure fucking negligence, most likely.
Don't give me that look. I'm not on the clock here.
LIFE. It's a stressful thing, right? Life of the real variant that is. The one where you have to go out and do things and take on responsibilities and communicate with actual breathing specimens. So in truth, THAT is the reason that the blog has been somewhat dormant of late. Chief reason has got to be that I've written about 10000-15000 words of tedious uni work this past month, so that's most definitely sucked out the enthusiasm I once had for pouring out my nonsense into this medium. That's not to say I've fallen out of love with the blog, so I'll just promise - as I always do when I've been inactive for a long time - that I'll try and update this motherfucker on a far more regular basis.
But really? No promises. I can certainly promise that.
What's been happening then? Well, I moved back up to Sheffield. The place where it all began. The scene of the crime. The place that actually had no real significance on the fundamentals of my diagnosis. Being a man who likes to give cancer the middle finger (and I do a pretty good job of it too, dontcha know?) I decided to move back up to the city of steel exactly one year on from the day I was told that my blood was whack and that I'd need to make a deposit of 800000 fine brown hairs if I wanted to make it decent again. What's that leukaemia? Only one year on and you've already pissed off? What a pussy. A-L-L allstar, that's me. Parring life.
Of course... that's not been the case, and as you can imagine I've bitten off far more than my humble mouth can chew. Being out and about has left me exhausted and jaded and vulnerable, and everything culminated last week when I was admitted to hospital for FUCKING PNEUMONIA. Pneumonia!? Not to moan or anything (ha!) but I've had enough life threatening ailments for the meantime cheers. Fobbing off cancer was a rather excruciating experience believe it or not so I'd like to breeze through life for the next half century or so without having to deal with such bullshit again. But oh no, throw some pneumonia my way why don't you? Pneumonia properly kills people, so I've heard. And after doing a bit of research I discovered that it has a particular tendency of capping those with a history of... yep. Cancer. Oh great.
Luckily, what with me being the boss that I am, I'm pretty much past it for now. Obviously the antibiotics played their part but as I drift off to sleep some nights I like to think that my immune system is actually made up of thousands of miniature Tony Jaas causing utmost devastation to any malignant cocksuckers that dare mess with my health situation. Just a shame they spend most the time sleeping, especially when cancer rears its ugly head around, but nevermind.
So that was that, then. In regard to what's coming up, this weekend I'll be going to the Find Your Sense of Tumour conference at Center Parks in Sherwood Forest. So not only will I be attending what should be a great weekend with a whole bunch of young people who have shared my experience, I might even get to meet Robin Hood. Failing that though, I'll just go swimming in the ridiculous pools that they boast in those parts and probably get water trapped in my ears. Whatever happens, I'll make sure to do a blog on it after I get back and maybe even post some pictures. Be sure to keep an eye out!
Must dash I'm afraid. Got to get to Tescos for some Relentless so I can casually bust out 1000 words of storytelling. I would post my stories onto the blog but I think this site's seen enough crude writing for a few lifetimes let alone one so I'll just keep them to myself for now. Maybe if I get a super sweet mark in one then I'll share it to the world but judging by my recent grades that looks unlikely.
Big love,
Ryan.
Don't give me that look. I'm not on the clock here.
LIFE. It's a stressful thing, right? Life of the real variant that is. The one where you have to go out and do things and take on responsibilities and communicate with actual breathing specimens. So in truth, THAT is the reason that the blog has been somewhat dormant of late. Chief reason has got to be that I've written about 10000-15000 words of tedious uni work this past month, so that's most definitely sucked out the enthusiasm I once had for pouring out my nonsense into this medium. That's not to say I've fallen out of love with the blog, so I'll just promise - as I always do when I've been inactive for a long time - that I'll try and update this motherfucker on a far more regular basis.
But really? No promises. I can certainly promise that.
What's been happening then? Well, I moved back up to Sheffield. The place where it all began. The scene of the crime. The place that actually had no real significance on the fundamentals of my diagnosis. Being a man who likes to give cancer the middle finger (and I do a pretty good job of it too, dontcha know?) I decided to move back up to the city of steel exactly one year on from the day I was told that my blood was whack and that I'd need to make a deposit of 800000 fine brown hairs if I wanted to make it decent again. What's that leukaemia? Only one year on and you've already pissed off? What a pussy. A-L-L allstar, that's me. Parring life.
Of course... that's not been the case, and as you can imagine I've bitten off far more than my humble mouth can chew. Being out and about has left me exhausted and jaded and vulnerable, and everything culminated last week when I was admitted to hospital for FUCKING PNEUMONIA. Pneumonia!? Not to moan or anything (ha!) but I've had enough life threatening ailments for the meantime cheers. Fobbing off cancer was a rather excruciating experience believe it or not so I'd like to breeze through life for the next half century or so without having to deal with such bullshit again. But oh no, throw some pneumonia my way why don't you? Pneumonia properly kills people, so I've heard. And after doing a bit of research I discovered that it has a particular tendency of capping those with a history of... yep. Cancer. Oh great.
Luckily, what with me being the boss that I am, I'm pretty much past it for now. Obviously the antibiotics played their part but as I drift off to sleep some nights I like to think that my immune system is actually made up of thousands of miniature Tony Jaas causing utmost devastation to any malignant cocksuckers that dare mess with my health situation. Just a shame they spend most the time sleeping, especially when cancer rears its ugly head around, but nevermind.
So that was that, then. In regard to what's coming up, this weekend I'll be going to the Find Your Sense of Tumour conference at Center Parks in Sherwood Forest. So not only will I be attending what should be a great weekend with a whole bunch of young people who have shared my experience, I might even get to meet Robin Hood. Failing that though, I'll just go swimming in the ridiculous pools that they boast in those parts and probably get water trapped in my ears. Whatever happens, I'll make sure to do a blog on it after I get back and maybe even post some pictures. Be sure to keep an eye out!
Must dash I'm afraid. Got to get to Tescos for some Relentless so I can casually bust out 1000 words of storytelling. I would post my stories onto the blog but I think this site's seen enough crude writing for a few lifetimes let alone one so I'll just keep them to myself for now. Maybe if I get a super sweet mark in one then I'll share it to the world but judging by my recent grades that looks unlikely.
Big love,
Ryan.
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