(Nearly) 3 years since shit-show started

Saturday, 5 April 2025

While it’s been radio silence for the Full Bush Rat in recent months, rest assured she has not been idle. Still making noise, sharing her inappropriate opinions, generally getting up to mischief.

According to my hair, time has flown. The rest of me, not so much. Today was a reminder that I am only 3 years into the horror movie that is cancer: diagnosis, treatment, side-effects, mind-trip, self-pity, body-loathing, illness, pain, more treatment.

Repeat.

A beautiful nurse once told me I would never be the same person as I was BC (before cancer). I felt ripped off by that. Now I accept it. Accepting is part of the healing process.

Today I was back at Level 4 at the Canberra Region Cancer Centre for my 6-monthly infusion. Arrive 10am. Plugged in, bloods done, flushed, infusion, flushed, pay bill.

7 hours later, the side-effects are starting to kick in. Chills, joint pain, muscle aches, fever, nausea, fatigue. The beautiful thing is, one of the side effects of exemestane is insomnia so it kind of balances things out.

Ironically, as I recline in my stylish lazy-boy chair on the chemo ward, my work colleagues are participating in Relay-for-Life. Walking at the AIS – for 24 hours – to raise funds for research, prevention and support services for the Cancer Council. The first walkers kicked off at 10am this morning and will finish at 9am tomorrow. Sam will be joining them for the final laps in the morning (with or without me depending on how hung-over I am).

Sitting on the ward – with my buddy Ian and a takeaway coffee – I reflected on my neighbours. On one side there was a woman, perhaps 10 years my senior. On the other, a woman my age. Beyond that, a man – indeterminable age, no hair, alarmingly thin, drifting in and out of sleep. Next to him another woman, my vintage. None had a support person with them. Chemo – cancer – is lonely. In my last half hour, a young lad comes into the ward. 18, maybe 19. A beautiful, strapping, terrified young man. The drugs/cannular/infusion did not start well, and the curtain was quickly drawn.

I can still his young face, brave but scared. His father hovering helplessly nearby. This image has stayed with me for the remainder of the day. I am by no means young, neither am I old. I am planning on wreaking havoc for a few more decades. But … if I could, would I give those decades away to give this young man life? Absolutely. No question.

And that, my friends, is why we walk-these-walks, raise money for research, support families, carers. Give people – especially the young – a better chance at enjoying this wonderful world (sans Trump).

I will continue to take the awful aromatase inhibitor daily, receive infusions every 6 months, see my radiation oncologist, medical oncologist and surgeon every quarter, every year for another 3 years. At least. I want to enjoy this wonderful world for as long as I am able. Why? Because it’s a privilege.

Sending good Full-Bush-Rat vibes to you all (especially Jess, oncology nurse, Canberra Region Cancer Centre, 5 April 2025).

PS. Please make Trump go away.