I have lost a nail. Now, if this had been as a result of an ill-timed run up the stairs or poor football move, it wouldn’t exactly be headline news. But, given this is the first chemo nail to fall (a toenail thankfully), it is a moment I feel I have to acknowledge.
It’s five days on from the end of active treatment and I feel I having been making good ‘moving forward’ progress. The cards are down (although Duncan now thinks the living room is so bare it looks like we are moving out not just on)! The house is so clean you could eat a meal off the floor (not something I am going to test mind you). And, I feel fitter, healthier and a little bit hairier.
The nail incident, however small it may seem, is a sign though that cancer (or more specifically its treatment) isn’t quite done with me yet!
It does feel a little mean that you can often start looking a little worse for wear when you’re not actually being treated. I am currently on ‘boob watch’ to see whether the radiotherapy is going to do any real damage to my skin (it is just a bit red and angry at the moment). I still can’t sleep properly. The menopause is still in control of my body. My hands and feet still feel a little disconnected. And now, it seems, I am also on ‘nail watch’ (which currently involves tapping and fiddling with my nails every five minutes to see if anything else drops off). At least my hair has a thin covering of hair to keep me distracted.
The thing is, to a cancer patient, nothing about the above is particularly unusual. We understand the side effects will last for a while (and signed a form to let them). We know that underneath the smiles and the ‘back to normal’ activities we may have to cope with pains and twinges. We know it will take time for us to trust our bodies to know a cold is just a cold and a cough is just a cough. We know our lives, while brighter and enriched in many ways, will never quite be the same again.
Today, it was just a nail. Tomorrow, it may be something else.
One day, I will want to forget. For now, I need to remember, so I can give my body the attention, the tools and the time it needs to heal.
I hope you’ll give me time too.
3 thoughts on “Breast cancer lesson 157: It takes time to heal”
5 days – oh my goodness that is nothing. There will be many ups and downs on your journey towards healing Jackie, so be patient and compassionate with yourself along the way and make sure others do the same x
Thanks Marie. Don’t worry, I won’t run before I can walk (well metaphorically speaking rather than literally with all these 10ks). I thought it would be good to speak out about the importance of not seeing the end of active treatment as the ‘no more cancer’ switch. Hope you are really well. J x
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