So, the conditions of cancer were stormy (a lumpectomy followed by turbulent vomiting), tempestuous (six sessions of chemo) through to downright savage (whole brain radiotherapy).
The forecast seemed so bleak (my terminal diagnosis in 2015) that it would have been easier to zip up my rain mac and stay indoors.
However, after every rainstorm, something beautiful occurs. A prism of colour that fills the sky. A symbol of hope and the promise of a pot of gold.
This month, I had my annual reviews with my neurosurgery and oncology consultants. My neurosurgeon hugged me and discharged me (WOW!) and the oncologist told me he had only had one patient before me who was diagnosed with Triple Negative Breast Cancer that spread to the brain, in 28 years and that she was still alive and well. He even said that my outlook was sunny (well in more formal language, but that didn't help my weather metaphor) and that now I have the same chance of getting cancer (again) as anyone who has never had cancer (WOW!).
|I was often to be seen in this outfit|
Now I am painfully aware that friends around me are still in the eye of the storm and I pray for them to make it through. But this is a story of hope, and God's love and grace. He has saved me from the hurricane and it's time to rebuild.
P.S. Debbie has her oncology review today, so I hope she finds her pot of gold too.