Weirdly ordinary

I feel like it's becoming a bit of a trend for me to start these posts with an apology about the amount of time elapsed since I last updated you. Sorry. It's probably the only thing that's ever going to be consistent on this blog to be honest; maybe I should just type out a stock first paragraph and paste it at the start of every post for Ultimate Consistency. Anyway, I feel this is going to be a bit of a ramble because I don't have any Big News or anything, I just wanted to say something to prove I am in fact still alive. 

For the past few weeks I have felt strikingly ordinary - that is to say, I have not been forced to live my life in such a way that I am reminded of my disease three seconds after I manage to forget about it. Part of this has been down to the new treatment regime; Brentuximab (or Beelzebub, as one person so delightfully dubbed it) Vedotin causes precisely one noticeable side effect for me, which is a record low. At least, I think this side effect is from the Brentuximab, but it could truthfully be any one of the nine or so prescription medications I am currently taking. I've got a granny tablet organiser. It's all exceptionally glamorous. The side effect in question is an itch so generalised and persistent that I did, at one point, seriously consider peeling my skin off. You don't realise quite how soul-destroying itching can be until it's your entire body for always. It's impossible to ignore it, and even though you know scratching can only make it worse, you scratch anyway, and then you hate yourself for scratching, and your jaw is clenched with the effort of keeping your hands balled into fists by your sides and you can't really think about anything else because your stomach and shoulders and knees and hipbones are all endlessly hissing with the neurological equivalent of the static no-man's-land between radio stations. After a week of feeling like I was entirely covered in spiders, I persuaded a doctor to prescribe steroids alongside the antihistamines that were obstinately Not Helping, and they successfully banished the spiders which meant I was once again free to enjoy life without a constant reminder that I am Not Well running up and down my body.

So, aside from treatment every few weeks, the tablets I have to remember to take morning and night, and the vile anticoagulant injections I have to have into my stomach every evening, I'm mostly unencumbered, and it is weird. After a year of being Set Apart, of being The Girl With Cancer, it is strange to feel ordinary. I know I am not better, but this oasis of normality has got me yearning for that healthy future I've been promised, and it scares me a little bit (a lot). When someone has as much treatment as I have had without going into remission, it raises questions of whether anything is going to work properly at all. I talk about future plans and going back to university and what I want to do when I grow up without voicing the Scary Thoughts that creep into my head. Will that future ever be mine, or will my life be one defined only by disease, each step designed to take me not towards the things I've always dreamed of, but instead to keep me just one step ahead of the cancer that refuses to stop snapping at my heels? 

These are not thoughts I entertain very often because nobody has the answers and dwelling in that patch of uncertainty is only going to frighten me. But if you want to quiet the voices in your head, you have to give them something else to do, and in my case, that translates to 'get a bit obsessed by stuff'. This is probably one of the reasons this blog has gone un-updated for so long - I have been distracted (not to mention the fact that updating necessitates entertaining Scary Thoughts, at least to an extent, which is precisely what I am trying to not do). So far my list of stuff to be distracted/obsessed by has included Harry Potter, drawing, drawing things from Harry Potter, Skyrim, Rubik's cubes, actually playing my clarinet for once, The Great British Bake Off, Halsey's debut album BADLANDS, and risotto. I think my mum's trying to persuade me to add yoga to the list because she wants a yoga buddy but I'm not too sure I've got time in between all the risotto.

Told you I'd been drawing things from Harry Potter...

(Incidentally, my preoccupation with risotto is really beginning to get a little concerning. I am becoming reckless and irresponsible in my use of garlic. You could probably replace me with a human-shaped bag of Arborio rice and nobody would notice. Are these fingernails or shavings of parmesan cheese? I just don't know any more. There is nothing but risotto and risotto is all there is.)

I suspect things will begin to feel a little less normal soon, since my boyfriend has gone back to uni and everyone who has an real ordinary life (rather than just a pretend one, like me), is resuming their Responsibilities. Honestly, I would give my right eyebrow to have the same kinds of stresses and responsibilities as them, but for now all I have is a bulb of garlic and more time than I know what to do with. Time to paint another picture. Maybe the Scary Thoughts will drown if I pour enough paintwater on them.