Today the sun is shining and I’m thankful.
I’m thankful that I have an incredible support network and I’m thankful for the NHS.
My last post needed a follow up to ensure that those near and far had somewhat of an ending to the story. I was kicking cancer in the arse because I’d been through that shit before and wasn’t a path I wanted to go down again – does anyone?
The health scare made me consider (again) what will happen to Joseph when I’m no longer here because inevitably one day, that time will come. How do I explain about death whether it be mine or someone else’s to someone who has limited understanding of the world that surrounds him? How do I keep pushing on, dealing with the multitude of shit that life keeps throwing at us and survive?
I don’t have all of the answers to those questions (yet) but what I still have is good health.
You see, the removal of a mole that had already sent my chaotic life and mind into a tailspin turned out to be nothing more than that. Thousands of people every day have these harmless growths removed, but for me, it brought back memories of a previous growth that was removed and was subsequently diagnosed as a malignant melanoma.
The vigilance of a dermatology team ensured that they had spotted one particular mole that had grown and was slightly darker than it had been on recent visits. No state of the art technology involved, just by comparison to photos. To the untrained eye, it didn’t look like anything out of the ordinary and when I asked the specialist nurse to take a photo of the offending blemish, I thought it was the mole in the middle of my back and not the one to the left.
Over the years, I have seen countless posters through campaigns highlighting the dangers of sunbeds and the sun itself, yet none of the moles I have had removed have looked anything like it.
Not one to just have an ‘ordinary mole’, apparently the one they removed was dysplastic. This means that it isn’t cancerous but has a very small chance of being so in the future. I’m reliably told that it’s not unusual for someone who has a lot of moles (me) or who has had a melanoma in the past (me) to have a dysplastic mole.
The good news is it’s gone and regardless of the chances of it being something more sinister, it’s no longer there. Our NHS is stretched beyond capacity and sometimes doesn’t get it right but on this occasion it has far from failed me. We’re celebrating 70 years of the NHS this year and I have lot to be thankful for. The NHS and I have kicked cancer in the arse.
Tomorrow, my stitches will be removed and my lifeline will be returned in more ways than one as I will be able to run. I will be able to pound the streets, knowing that my therapy I use to deal with life’s challenges can be utilised again.
I’ve missed it so much and no doubt tomorrow, I will be criticising myself as I always do complaining that I am too shit for words. No doubt moaning that it’s too hot for running or I don’t have the time.
But today, the sun is shining and I am thankful.
