After a year of remarkable wellness I got my latest scan results this week. I am very relieved to report that my brain, which has been riddled with tumours three times in as many years, remains virtually clear (but for a tiny spot we have been monitoring for some time). There are no new tumours in any other parts of my body and I continue to feel very well indeed.
The 'lifeshock' on this occasion was hearing that the primary tumour in my lung has grown for the first time in nearly four years. This means the cancer is active again in that site and needs to be treated. Obviously, this is a concerning development. So much so I was instantly scheduled for several rounds of Cyber Knife Radiotherapy in early October when I return from a trip to the States, which is part business and part retreat. Biff the bugger. Well, burn it. That's the strategy. And stay on Osimertinib, which is keeping everything else stable.
First, knowing that grief is held in the lungs – a revelation that profoundly changed my life when I was first diagnosed – it seems poignant that this growth has occurred since my darling Dad died five months ago. I miss him immensely. I miss his presence, the interest he took in my life, the pride he felt about the work I do, the love he embodied and even the frequent criticisms about what I could be doing better. For him, this was an expression of support (which took me a frickin long time to fathom!). I am writing this at an antique desk I inherited after he died and have many childhood memories of him working at it at our home in Wales. I have been incredibly busy this year, especially with the publication of my new book, which has left little time to feel this loss as it deserves to be felt. Fully and wholeheartedly. As such, I will give it room to breathe in the weeks ahead, especially when I am on retreat in New Mexico in September.
Second, I have been asking my oncologist to Cyber Knife my primary tumour for two years. Granted, the cancer cells are circulating in my blood, but it seems to me that eradicating the original site of this disease is a bloody good idea all round. It has now grown enough to justify doing this. I did a little jig in his office when he recommended the treatment and he laughed, saying, "I thought you would be pleased!" I really am. I keep hearing my darling mentor, Brad, saying, "Be very careful what you ask for, Sophie. You might get it." Ha. Radiotherapy is no Mardi Gras, but I got what I asked for and will accept it in good grace.
Meantime, I am heading to Portugal with my family for two weeks armed with four books: Jane McLelland's 'How To Starve Cancer" (highly recommended), Steve Biddulph's 'Raising Girls' (sorely needed!), Keith Stuart's magical 'Days of Wonder' and my epically talented friend Chris Morgan Jones' audacious thriller, 'The Good Sister' (because every holiday we need to fall into a couple of novels from which we can't get up). He writes as Morgan Jones by the way. Buy it!
More important than any other news I have to share…my courageous Miss G has had her ears pierced (my bargaining chip when resisting pleas for a phone) and I braved Legoland with her in the summer holiday mayhem, which I rank among my highest achievements.
When I read "Health- Mixed Results" – I felt my heart seize … caught in a push/pull. I wanted to know what was up with you, I didn't want to know anything "bad." As always, I'm very glad I read your post. You are inspiring, and "upper" in my life. I know what it's like to grieve the death of a father – very special connection between father/daughter. I still miss my dad as well.
Read you blog on a sorry for myself day and you pushed me out of it with your positive attitude. Thank you. Have a lovely holiday and some meaningful inner time with your grief. Your dad sounds very special. You were lucky and you need to grieve his physical loss at your own pace. Return refreshed and ready to continue your journey. Thank you for sharing that journey with others.
Thank you for updating us all Sophie. So pleased that most of the news is good and my wish for you is that the 'baddie' gets blasted into oblivion with the treatment. Grieve for your beloved Dad, enjoy Portugal and your retreat in September. My thoughts are with you always.
I hung on every word you wrote about your update. I could feel the same roller coaster of emotions I feel as I tend to my own life with cancer.
Hi Dear Sophie, I was sitting here feeling sorry for myself, Micky and Minnie (my tumours) getting me down,!!although they are better. Have just read your inspirational blog, and u have made me feel so much more positive.
You continue to inspire me and remind me of of whats important. Thank you my friend.
I have been doing grief processes almost religiously lately I wake up every day with a thick chest and coughing… there is something there so I am going at it! Thank you for this work… and for your Inspiring journey. Have a beautiful time away in Portugal – resting, loving, healing.
I'm glad you invited me into your life, Sophie. What's next is what's next, the revelation of an Intentionality we can only say yes to. That we can know that—know that—is a great blessing. I'm so looking forward to seeing you in New Mexico.
Dear Sophie, Your book Lifeshocks has blessed my life in countless ways. I'm sending everything I know to send to support your continuing reports from the field.
With you in the Larger Body . . . . Peace and; every good to you.
You know, I and many others will stand with you in your grief. We will each bring our own, no doubt, my very, very dear friend.
You write so beautifully and are so wise. I hope your holiday leaves you refreshed and ready for cyber knife. And Miss G is delightful! Wishing you all the best.
Dear Sophie, you continue to be such an inspiration! Thank you for sharing your news. I feel so sad about your dear Dad and more than cherish the wonderful memories of joining your parents for their 50th wedding anniversary in Puerto Escondido. Do I have your e-mail address, I wonder? Would love to send you some of the fab. Photos I took at that time. Love the desk! Enjoy your retreat in NM.
You tell it well Sophie.
I can see a wry smile on your Doctor's face as you do your jig. I can also 'feel' the gratitude you felt even amidst the terror of Legoland (I'm talking about the crowds, not the rides). You don't mention it but I'm sure it was there.
Just like some people say Jesús died for us all you are staying alive for us all.
I am 'really no words' super happy to join in your happiness and health. Inwards and upwards!