Those of you you know me will know that I’ve had a pretty rough two years. I was lucky during Covid : nice house, garden, plenty of things to keep me occupied and a husband who I get on with well and who has a study three floors up from mine. This is a definite ladder.
But then in January 2021 I discovered a lump, snake alert and was diagnosed with bilateral breast cancer. Then along came another ladder , I got an appointment at UCLH in five days, having seen my GP the day I found the lump. Extraordinary and beyond fortunate.
Just around the corner, lurking in the bushes was the next snake and this one was a monster, a python maybe, as due to Covid I had to be unsupported by family or friends for all the many scary and invasive appointments, scans and biopsies that lead towards the diagnosis and treatment plan. This frankly was awful. Masked and scared I sat in a series of rooms with doctors, radiologists and nurses, similarly masked, trying to comprehend what they were telling me when frankly the only word I fully understood was CANCER.
The ladder here was definitely that I felt I was in good hands, experienced hands and hands that had help countless women like me on this path. I realised I’d have to trust them, I had no reference other than them and what I read on the net. There were no groups to talk, no friends who could come over for coffee or gin and listen. Yes there was zoom and close friends set up regular sessions , ladder, but being in the same room with someone holding their hands, getting a hug when the tears came nope. Just snakes.
My husband, hand carved ladder made from seasoned oak, didn’t at the beginning have any idea of the seriousness of what was happening to me. It’s not surprising, he wasn’t at any meeting with the doctors, nor was he any part of the discussion. It was all outside his experience and he carried on pretty much as normal. Kind but frankly lost. We proceed through surgery, pit of snakes, but the ladders once more of kind staff and a private room co-opted from a local hospital as UCLH was full of Covid patients, that served decent food.
Chemo was awful, more snakes than ladders I’m afraid as due to Covid regulations I was once again alone, solitary unable even to chat to fellow patients as we were spaced the regulation two meters apart, and you’ve guessed it masked. All the usual add ons of kind volunteers coming in to chat, do your nails help with the side effects were not available. Even magazines weren’t arranged around the room and those nurses working were frankly exhausted with the extra pressure , not to mention the stress of Covid lurking round every corner.
But with their help and Bob’s breakfast trays of joy it passed ,ladders. A year of treatment four broken vertebra , several spells in hospital and then my heart and lungs joined the fray not wanting to be left out of the fun and games , so many more snakes.
I finally accepted some help, a kind nurse urged me to see a clinical psychologist and while I hadn’t realised it, surrounded and supported as I was by friends and family , she was exactly the ladder I needed.
Not having to be strong for other people, being able to talk frankly about my feelings and knowing what I said wouldn’t be dredged up during a row further down the line was liberating. From her I learnt two very important things that help me still:
First that it is fine to mourn for what I’ve lost. It’s not vanity to miss my old self : my hair, my body, the three inches in height I lost when I broke my back and importantly my sense of invincibility. But I can and should take strength from where I am now, the long road I have walked, the help I’ve had.
She also taught me that life is not linear , there are ups and downs, some days will be good, others pretty dark, but I should not despair.
It’s a game of snakes and ladders.
Plus Bob is definitely a hand-carved ladder 👏👏
That’s such a great post. Honest, moving, hopeful but above all helpful you’re a role model to us all xx