A couple of questions have come up in the past week that really made me think about aspects of having cancer that I hadn't thought about before.
The first one came about because I shared the existence of this blog on the Macmillan website in response to someone on the chat room asking about experiences. I'm still amazed that anyone reads this so thank you everyone who does, and if I can help in some way that's good. One person came back to me asking about whether I'd made any preparations in case I didn't survive surgery - letters or keepsakes, for example. Apart from checking the wills and DH's classic comment about going off to clean his gun, we didn't do anything. And the question got me wondering: at some point, cancer might be the reason that I have to ask my family to let me go. If I am going to ask that of them, is it fair of me to try and maintain a hold over them, to allow them only the memories that I want them to have? I don't know the answer, and I hope I shan't have to, but the question did make me pause. There's a lot there about whether we are as we see ourselves or only as others see us.
The second one was a bit less profound but still striking. Sat in a private viewing theatre (I know, I know, showing off now) watching The Hobbit (beautiful to look at, thin on plot) I suddenly realised that this could be so much worse. It could not have been picked up, and spread, and and and. Suddenly, sat there in the dark watching the lovely New Zealand scenery and waiting for the dragon to appear, I felt very lucky indeed.