You Can't Keep it Under Your Hat

Well at least I can't. Quite a few people have told me how good they think it is, and how proud of me they are, that I'm being open about having cancer. That they thought it was good I wasn't keeping it to myself. I hadn't ever thought about the potential of keeping it a secret, I can't imagine that I could.

My family had to know, even the ones I don't live with, so they understood why I was behaving in such a strange way, why everything had gone weird and why I was being a utter nightmare to live with at times. My old mates needed to know, because even though we don't spend time together nearly as often as we should, I knew that they'd be there for me, that they'd come round, drink beer, eat food, talk nonsense and be normal. The school needed to know because what if Amelie's behaviour in class was a bit strange. I had to explain that that was because Mom was at home being even stranger. And that with Amelie spending her days with her fellow classful of germ-filled 5 and 6 year olds, I needed a heads-up when one of them goes down with chicken pox or other lurgy because my immune system can't take it. The moms at the school gate needed to know because over that first year of school not only had the kids become close friends, but we had too. I showed them my scars whether they wanted to see them or not. That operation was, and felt, like a brutal thing to do to my body, but I got through it and I'm proud of my battle wounds. My mom friends seem to have an uncanny skill for knowing when I need to be asked if I'm ok, and when we don't need to talk about it at all. I like the normality of whingeing about nothing more than us being asked, again, to whip up some elaborate fancy dress costume at a moment's notice and deciding who's getting the short straw of dashing up to Primark to buy cheap t-shirts for magician-like transformation into whatever it is this week.

I needed you to know my friends, even though I may never have met you. You've perhaps been a student, a subscriber to DMTV, a quiet follower on social media, bought a book, even a piece of work. Any and all of that has enabled me to lead this crazy life of an artist and for that support I am grateful, because let's face it, I could never hold down a 9-5 job.

I felt everyone's shock when I told them the news, like my heart was being ripped out. I didn't want them to have to face the sadness of this. I didn't want it for me, and I didn't want it to be happening for them either. Saying it out loud made it real, like this was actually happening, it let The Nasty out of its box. But now you all know, I feel the warmth of your support, kindness and love. I know you've got my back and that whatever happens, that in some crazy way we were in this together.

So no, I won't be keeping it under my hat. I think I'll blog about it as we go. Even if it's just something to do at 3am in the morning when I've not yet been to sleep because I'm on a nice big whack of steroids and am wide awake and in need of something to do. Ah, side effects...let's save those for another post.

I'll blog because having this cancer, while it's scary, and horrible, and gruelling, and traumatic, it's also pretty normal. Let's not get depressing but they say now about half the population will get some sort of cancer at some point. I'm lucky, I've got you and I'm not on my own. I have someone to help wrap my arm in cling film to keep the PICC line dry in the shower. I've got someone to take me to my appointments, peg out the washing when I frankly can't be bothered, and make me a cheese and ham toastie when that's all I fancy day after day. I've got all these lovely people but yes, I still feel like it's my own battle that I fight alone. And I know that if, and I hope that this never happens, but if you ever have to hear those words, then you might feel lonely too. But please know, I've got your back.

Love and light,
Laura
xx

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