2015 was a pretty big year. To rehash for those not familiar; my husband and I were married, I watched my nephew being born, we brought and moved in to our first home and we saw all the hard work that we had been involved in with campaigning and sharing my story come in to fruition with both the Therapeutic Goods Administration (TGA) and then subsequent Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme (PBS) approval of the immunotherapy drug I was granted compassionate access to being approved for Advanced Metastatic Melanoma patients Australia-wide (Keytruda). It’s hard to believe that all this took place in the one year, let alone that it was three (3) years ago!
Holey dooly!
To add to this wonderment there was still a cloud hanging over my head through all of this, until the day came on the 15thOctober 2015 that my oncologist, without too much fanfare mind you, announced that I was indeed presently clear of active cancer!!! You may remember me sharing the story of my mate called NED and how ‘no evidence of disease’ became my favourite three words.
Now here we are, three (3) years later and you aren’t done with me yet, dear readers. Thank goodness! I quite like this earth business, so I am hoping to stick around for a while yet.
Three years it has also been where patients (specifically advanced metastatic melanoma) have had the basic rights to treatment options, without having to fight for access rights or in many cases not having to seek options abroad. Five years ago, when my recurrence surfaced, the treatment landscape was pretty much a desert plain with no oases on the horizon. There is no guarantee on positive outcomes, everyone is different; but at least today a patient is not left with trudging through the dunes of despair and told there are no treatment options, today with greater medical technology, there is hope.
Every year, month, and day that passes moving me further away from the day that I was told these beautiful words of “NED” fills me with so much overwhelming gratitude. I wish that I had a voice loud enough to scream my joy as far as my now unhindered lungs could scream without causing too much concern within the neighbourhood (but as my preferred approach), I quietly ponder just how amazing modern medical science is and how blessed I am to be here, typing these words to you.
My dermatologist always likes to remind me, as he did at my skin check last week, in his witty and somewhat eccentric execution that even for him this is an unfamiliar, yet welcome conversation and that by all past accounts “I shouldn’t really be here”, that the very nature that I am standing before him is “certainly a modern miracle” and he dares to utter the words of “survivor”. I always nod with agreement as the reality hits home again for the umpteenth time that indeed my life could have been remarkably different. I know this, more than most.
Personally, I cringe when people refer to me as a ‘survivor’ because in saying so reflects that I have conquered all that cancer has thrown my way. In the physical sense, potentially yes, however cancer’s affects are forever generous. I don’t take offence to these statements, god no, but I can’t help but cringe, because just saying it aloud makes me feel like it is a word uttered to make others feel better when talking about my experience, or talking about another’s experience with cancer in general. I can’t talk for everyone and I won’t. Instead, I wish to share that more comforting to me is the use of ‘thriving’ to express and represent the life I now live. For me this word identifies the ‘here and now’, and miraculously ‘the beyond’ without any connotations or slogans… it is the reality of a life touched by illness and adversity, but where a new life has thus been born.
People often refer to seeking their ‘new normal’ when they have experienced some level of health adversity in their life, and I have written about this subject myself, but a new normal isn’t just simply one occurrence, it’s a constant evolution of a bunch of ‘new normals’ that shape the trajectory of the landscape to be walked. Change is a term constantly recycled and acceptance comes with each new obstacle, because there will be obstacles… many in fact, particularly for a 30-something year old female. Resilience becomes a learned skill, one that can’t be taught, as it is you and you alone that takes the reigns. And with each step forward towards a future, is a step towards a new lesson that you add to your arsenal of coping mechanisms to live your very best life!
I could write on this topic in much greater detail, the life of living beyond cancer, but for today I want to celebrate my third birthday of living this new stage of me.
I have shed many tears, and I have laughed with great heart these last three years. There are even days I truly don’t think about my past at all, but when I do, I am reminded through my experiences that I am the person I am today because of it. My gratitude to live and breathe unhindered each day inspires my soul to learn, thrive and be the best friggin’ version of me. Someone who is constantly inspired. I don’t need to hustle. I am content in the comfort of who I am and where I wish to be and how to get there, and so dear readers begins this new celebration of me… my celebration of three!
The journey has been rough
The hits many
You are the light of your own story.
Your canvas is fresh
Paint the life that you dream.
Be humble in your power
Thrive in your joy
Be quiet no more.
With love, light and yes… bundles of gratitude!
Kathy xx
Kathy Gardiner, pictured with husband Anthony.
Photograph credit: Benjamin MacDonald
