Anonymous asked:
A very dear friend of mine has cancer. I don’t want to make you any more anxious or scared, I just want to send a story so you know you’re not alone.
In short, his answer (I suppose) in keeping some grain of sanity is letting go of every goal you’ve had and every insecurity you’ve had for those goals.
For example, he’s always wanted to try a long zip line but was waiting for the right weather. When he processed the words from hospital staff, he came to my house, used my phone and booked a weekend away so he, myself and a few friends could all go zip lining. Only after he did that, he told me the news. We cried and cried and cried.
Of course it’s easier said than done just to stop worrying about it but his logic is that “I’m going to die some day, I’m not immortal, I’m booking these fucking things before I feel I’m sick. Work can fuck off.” That man is now 5 months off chemo treatment and has that same mindset.
I know it’s not a ‘size fits all’ situation, but I thought talking about Stephen might help. He’s going for some archery lessons next week.
[continued from additional messages]
Actually I want to talk about Stephen more.
When he told me he had cancer, we cried for hours and hours. We confessed things that won’t ever be whispered to another soul and kept promises well into the night.
Now we take turns in booking experiences for him in the friend and family circles. We’ve all got a spare mattress for us and a bed for Stephen incase he feels iffy in the house. He booked the zip line weekend, I booked a table in that county, someone else drove us to the seaside to eat fish and chips in the freezing cold car, another person bought us stand up comedy tickets. He’s booked himself and his partner in for archery lessons next week. I’ve secretly bought him, his partner and his parents tickets to see a west end show and a room for the week at some point in the very near future.
Anyway enough listing. Of course he still gets scared, he’s not immune. We all offer a line incase he needs to talk to us at 3am, the nurses are incredible to him, his workplace is advocating for him to get better sick pay. We all offer a shoulder to cry onto (which has been used many times) without smothering him in false hope and premature grief. He has been off chemo for 5 months but of course he’s scared that it will come back.
Stephen is genuinely incredible and if you ever feel scared about the results of your mammogram, there are lines to call and support groups.
Stephen is a very eccentric and marvellous man. He has tweed waistcoats and a green leather armchair and has a collection of pipes he doesn’t smoke anymore. He’s also very laid back and funny. He cooks incredible curries that will burn the mouth off you. He had a phase of making his own chocolate just to understand how it was made. He has a dog called Frank. Frank is a very old man and he’s got a matching dog cover for him with a hood on it.
He’s the type of man that is a great confidant and is incredibly funny. He plays the banjo and harmonica at the same time just to wind up the neighbours. He’s one of those people that are chilled out, easy to talk to and is just so incredibly silly.
I suspect he has a secret library with original manuscripts from the 12th century or something.
Can you tag everything I’ve said with #stephen ?
[End]
Thank you so much for your messages. His mentality is really the mentality I’m trying to have while I’m in limbo here waiting for results. I’m scared. I might die young. I might lose all my hair and weight and will to fight. I might never get to get married or have kids or own a house.
But that doesn’t matter, it can’t matter anymore because if I spend my time being worried sick, I won’t get to enjoy what time, whether it be months or decades, I have left.
