How are you?

This is a question I get a lot (yes, yes I know, so do you. Just work with me here).  It’s usually in one of two situations: firstly from someone who knows me but hasn’t seen me for a while – ‘hey so cool to bump into you! How are you???’
Or else it’s someone who knows what’s going on and asks with both interest and concern, ‘so how are you’. In both situations an actual proper answer is required. In the first, there’s usually an awkward pause while I decide what to say, and then I launch into a full blown, detailed update, throwing the person into a slight tail spin, swamping them with unexpected and gruesome details until I finish with something along the lines of ‘but mostly I’m good’.
The second situation can be harder. The person knows the context but possibly not exactly what the last few days have entailed. Mostly, if I’m out in public it means I’m physically okay. Not always amazing but at least okay, and seriously grateful for that. If it’s my bad week, then I’m probably curled up in a ball and easily upset (in which case why are you asking?!). Again a detailed answer is seems appropriate but at least this time gruesome isn’t necessarily awkward or unexpected. But once again I finish with ‘but mostly I’m good’.

And the thing is, mostly I am good. Chemo sucks, briefly, and then I get to go back to life. Surgery was kinda tough, the drains in particular were a bit upsetting, but that’s behind me now. I hate that I’m not able to give 100% at work, but I’m learning to live with it. (I still feel guilty but….).

But sometimes, the weight of a stage 4 diagnosis is debilitating, it’s scary and it’s surreal. The mental health side of it all is a massive challenge. The idea that I might not get to see my kids grow up is so overwhelming that I actively choose  not to think about it. But then the treatment might work and I might get to be in remission for years. I don’t know how things will pan out, so I just don’t think beyond this week, or this month.

And I find that if I do go down that path, if I let myself think of the possibilities, then I end up in a bad place that is hard to recover from. (Sorry about ending a sentence with a preposition Kyleigh! Oh actually I just googled and apparently it’s okay to do that now.) So I avoid going there as much as possible. It might appear that I am sugarcoating things, or that I’m brave (really?! I get no choice here people, that ain’t bravery or strength. I might allow resilient. Or stubborn.) But the fact remains I will have cancer for life. I will be on treatment and monitored for the rest of my life. Check ups every three months to decide whether I’m a) stable, or b) going downhill. That messes with my head so back it goes under the sand.

Maybe it’s the pervading belief that a positive attitude can cure cancer (or depression, or infertility or whatever you might be dealing with). While I do believe life is easier if you have positivity on your side, it’s just that for me being positive  means tackling issues head on, talking things through and just generally turning up. It means accepting that there will be good days as well as bad, and that it’s okay not to be okay. Which is to say that it’s okay to cry, to not have a smile sometimes, and to whinge when you need to. One of the first pieces of (good) advice I got was that you’ll have bad days, and that’s okay, but a day only lasts 24 hours. After that you need to pull your socks up and get on with it. (For the record I’m not saying ‘harden up’, just that you need to actively limit the wallowing phase).

I find it so encouraging that mental health is something we talk about more now. That people are checking in on each other. But unfortunately what I need (I’m guessing I’m not alone in this but then I’m only guessing), is a mind reader – someone who just knows how I’m actually feeling and what I actually need regardless of where I am or what I’m doing. I’d pay good money for that! (I like to think that this is one of those things people in relationships have, but perhaps that is just ‘grass is greener’ type thinking?!).
And in a way I’m lucky, I don’t have a mental health illness, just a whole lot of issues brought on by a physical illness. I can ‘blame’ cancer in a way people with a mental health illness just can’t.

So anyway if you see me smiling or ‘coping’ or ‘being strong’, rest assured that I am mostly okay, but I am also firmly in denial. And that’s how I prefer things right now.