Coping with Cancer - Memory

I used to have a great memory. When I was about twelve years I could name pretty much an any capital city in the world. Cameroon? Yaounde. Ecuador? Quito. Mongolia? Ulaanbaatar.

Now, many years of beer consumption, staring at computer screens and sifting through Facebook updates later, I struggle to even remember my own name. How old are you Mr Evans? Ummm….39? 38? Where did I leave my keys? What year is it again?

In many ways this is a good thing. As an optimistic person I tend to only remember the positives in life, no matter if they’re true or not:

• I had such a great time at university! (skint, hungover, melodramatic);
• Cycling through Sudan was such an amazing experience! (hot, sick and mostly miserable)
• I love running marathons! (three hours of unrelenting torture)
• Isn’t life great! (a meaningless trudge through random events and constant disappointment);
• I feel good this morning! (oh, but now I have to take chemo drugs).

This hasn’t generally been a problem – I was able live a normal, happy, blissfully ignorant life – but with cancer, things have become a little more complicated. As much as I want to forget about it (and most of the time I do), there are occasions when I have no choice but to remember its there. Here’s a few examples from the last few months.

1. Blissful ignorance – ‘Ah, what a lovely crisp winter morning. Its time to get running outside. One hour should be a delight.’ Action – Go for a nice morning run, and then keep doing this for the rest of the week. Cancer reality – It becomes very cold and wet outside. Run for four miles before feeling like I’m going to pass out. Stagger home and spend the rest of the day shivering and watching Friends on repeat. Remain exhausted for next week.
2. Blissful ignorance – ‘I’m off the hardcore chemo medication. I should be able to go back to work full time. It’ll be no problem.’ Action – Go back to work (almost) full time for a week. Cancer reality – by Thursday I’m passing out at my desk. It takes me an hour to write a simple email. When I get home and all I can do is sit and watch darts for hours on end. (ed. And cancer has affected this how?)
3. Blissful ignorance – ‘A night out in the pub? Sure! I haven’t seen anyone for ages, it’ll be great.’ Action – Eat a good dinner, throw down some chemo pills and head down the Kings Head for a few beers. Cancer reality – One beer in and I feel like my head in being compressed in a vice. Manage three sips of my second pint before having to take a very slow walk home. Go straight to bed and sleep for 11 hours.
4. Blissful ignorance – ‘Sugar and processed meat give you bowel cancer. I’m only going to snack on cheese, nuts and yogurt from now on.’ Action - Forgo sweets, biscuits, cakes, snickers, cookies, even muesli. Eat nuts…lots of nuts. Cancer reality - Spend the majority of the day tired and miserable. Weight dips under ten stone. Have nightmares about being crushed by an giant pistachio.
5. Blissful ignorance – ‘A date on a Saturday night. Awesome. Better get my lucky pants on.’ Action – Head out to a nice pub and have an evening of great company with a nice, attractive woman (it must be the sympathy) Cancer reality – Its 9.30pm. This is well past my usual bedtime. I’m so tired I can barely pick up my spoon, let alone anything else. ‘Its quite late, I think I’m going go home.’ ‘At 9.30pm?’ ‘Umm, yes.’
6. Blissful ignorance – ‘Thai vegetable curry? Yes, please, that’s my favourite. Give me an extra large bowl.’ Action - Wolf down three portion of my housemates extra spicy curry. Cancer reality – Wake up five hours later and have to call an ambulance.

Yet, despite all this I still don’t think about cancer most of the time. I still living a happy a positive life. Sure I have to rest and relax, I have to nap, I have to watch Neighbours, darts and Friends, I have to eat junk food to give myself energy. Yes I find it hard to get out of bed, I struggle to run for more than twenty minutes, I can’t stay out much later than 8.30pm, I spend so much time at home that my best friend is now a cat (pictured above) but then, is that really any different to everyone else? In many ways my life is more varied and balanced now than it was before cancer, and its possible that I’m a happier and more interesting person for it. Okay, I have to deal with some bad things occasionally, but who doesn’t? That’s how life works. That’s what makes us human.

In a year’s time - when I can eat properly, and run outside, and work, and drink alcohol and stay awake past nine pm – maybe I’ll remember how it was to be like this.

Maybe I’ll remember that that was the good part.

Enjoy your weekends.

Until next time,

Ben

NB: Pictured above is my cat, Angus. Out of solidarity he also likes to sport seasonal knitwear.