x rated

It is over. yep. the veins have retreated. my hair which I shaved in the last few weeks of treatment is starting to regrow into a spiky mop (I haven't had my natural mouse brown tone for over 10 years). my cheeks are rosy. my energy, although not entirely back to normal is slowly seeping in.

I finished radiation with a slight degree of pinkened skin on my chest and a bit of a sore throat. Nothing more. Nothing like what I expected. So now it is the rehabilitation and rebuilding after the storm. Feel like I have gone through my system with a cannon ball. For now I must reconstruct not only my internal equilibrium but my life in respect to work, hobbies, performance, travel, lifestyle........my self

didn't realise that perhaps the hardest thing about having cancer would be the level of decision making you must make when it is all over.
Where to from here?

I went to Peter Mac a few days ago for a check up. It was one of the hardest visits I had made. I do not identify myself as a cancer patient anymore and have discarded the identity very quickly. To walk into the hospital and being surrounded by people going through the process of diagnosis, treatment, relapse, hope and grief felt alien and extremely hard to sit amongst. My first scan is in a fortnight, this is the scan that reconfirms my 'remission' but also has the dreaded loading of being the first chance for the possibility of relapse to of occurred. I feel quietly if not overtly confident that I have been cured permanently of cancer but there is always that niggling voice that states there is a 10% chance that it will return, and if it does it will be vehemently more malignant, determined and aggressive.

Besides the occasional scan and doctors appointment I am filling my time with yoga, pilates, friends and the quest to slowly discover what it is I want to do next year and to realign the trajectory of my life. The band is still spouting the wisdom of Britney Spears and we have gigs coming up through Melbourne and interstate. The performance group I am in 'Quiche Lorraine' is also looking at interstate and even international touring opportunities for next year. I myself feel nervous about my body. The confidence in my body has dwindled to such a degree that trusting it to not 'break down' again is hard. For someone like myself whose body is their instrument for performance and income it is hard when that body looses a battle with the duplications of tumors. It didn't remove the junk. it lay its barriers down and let it in. Being reliant on the strength, composure and performance of ones physical and kinetic self requires a great level of knowledge of that machine. How did I not know that tumors were growing throughout my body for six months? The doctors still will not categorically state that the persisting numbness and co-ordination problems I was having before the diagnosis are integrally related. All I can think was that the body operates in strange ways when it has unwanted visitors exploiting its delicately balanced system. Perhaps my body's only avenue and agency to get me to find these unwanted quests was to become regularly incapacitated and numb.

I liken cancer to vomit
When I think of cancer and cancer treatment I feel nauseas. very nauseas.
Balsamic vinegar and Thai food don't taste the same.

I liken cancer to being exposed
to open medical gowns and strapped breasts
to hair follicles decorating my pillow and lover
to my story being whispered in corridors and behind closed doors

I liken cancer to change
I changed my pace
my address
my rhythm
my menstrual cycle


I liken cancer to a distant story.
One that seems to have a strong narrative but one which I am gradually becoming distant from. as if looking through a rear view mirror as you place your foot on the accelerator. Just need to work out the direction in which I wish to drive.....