My three year cancerversary is looming. In three days to be exact but it’s been looming the last few weeks (maybe more). And it feels silly that this one day holds so much importance. It’s one day. It’s not like I’m not dealing with cancer every other day of the year but here I am anticipating – rather, dreading – the 1 May.
Putting pen to paper (fingers to keys?) is tough on this one
To say that I am overwhelmed with emotions, feelings, thoughts (and yes, I did just google the difference between feelings and emotions to make sure it made sense to say them both – it does) is an understatement. I don’t really know where or how to begin processing them – let alone write about them. As I stare at the blinking cursor on my computer, I feel it in my chest – the pressure of everything swirling around – and that feeling of being on the verge of bursting into tears (because what else is there to do?).
So, a bit of a loss how or what to write. So I will look back at the last two cancerversaries. May be a slightly long-winded way* to help me put some of these thoughts on page but bear with me (or don’t – if I do manage to get anywhere with answering the question of why this date holds so much importance, I’ll do a TL;DR at the top of the post and if there is no TL;DR – you’ll know I didn’t get very far and you read at your own risk). I also caveat the rest of what comes with this is my memory now of the two days and the days in between – not one hundred per cent sure I’ve got all the facts straight – it’s funny how time changes what and how you see things.
*If you’ve read any of most posts, you’ll probably realise that most of them are slightly long-winded – so somewhat expected.
TL;DR – Why is this “date” so important for me?
- It’s the one day that I truly feel I can talk about what I’m going through – it’s “my” day (and yes, this is something I need to work on – shouldn’t be one day a year)
- Like NYE or a birthday – I see the cancerversary as the start of a “new” year – a moment to look back and (hopefully this year) look forward.
- It can be a moment to commiserate about the situation but also needs to be a moment to celebrate another year of not just surviving but living.
The First Cancerversary
The first cancerversary caught me a little (or a lot) by surprise. I had been running around the first part of the first year – in between all the shitty medication side effects – living my best life. The diagnosis definitely had me appreciating the brevity of life and I said yes to fun, I said fuck off to caring what people thought and I think I even said no to things I didn’t want to do. Like all good highs – there’s often a crash. The second part of the first year, I crashed and not knowing how to deal with that, denial became my friend. I tried to pretend everything was fine, that I was good. I woke up on the 1 May 2024 subsumed with grief. I was so very tired and so very scared that I could not keep doing it.* I remember ringing my mum and just sobbing – in between the sobs just saying that I didn’t want “it” anymore (not that I ever wanted it obviously).
*The infamous “it” being so many things – cancer, managing, dealing, pretending – the list goes on.
I went to work – because that’s what you do – you keep going. I somehow managed through a workshop in the morning and then went with two friends to a wine bar. We sat outside in the sun and drank champagne. We cheered to life, friends and Labour Day. I laughed, I definitely cried but I celebrated being there. Half-way through what became a bigger group and way too many bottles, I spoke to a close friend on the phone. I admitted to her that I was scared that I couldn’t keep managing it. In hindsight, that fear was probably correct or I created a self-fulling prophecy. The year that followed was tough and I did really struggle with managing life with cancer.
A few days after 1 May and some debate on whether or not 1 May should be the day or whether it should be 6 May*, I was able to articulate some of the grief that I had felt. On 1 May 2023, all the doctors I spoke to told me, it looks like cancer and you are going to have a shit year ahead but you’ll get through this. At that moment, subconsciously I was looking forward to 1 May 2024. So when 1 May 2024 came around and I was not done getting through this, it finally hit me what this was – this was a life-long thing that I had to deal with and I grieved 1 May 2024 not being my day to celebrate being cancer free. I grieved not taking my kids on a holiday to celebrate putting the year and cancer behind us. So while I did celebrate getting through the year and all the things I did and could still do despite cancer, it was laced with fear, anger and grief about this shitty card I was dealt.
*1 May being when I had my mammogram, ultrasound, biopsy and all indications were that I had breast cancer; 6 May being the day I learnt that it had moved to my bones and was stage IV.
The Second Cancerversary
After a tough second year – emotionally/mentally, there were still great moments – I was ready for the second cancerversary. It was booked out in the calendar (well the afternoon) and I woke up more optimistic about the year ahead. I somewhat naively thought that after a year of struggling and processing, I was more equipped to manage better. To keep on theme of the previous year, we went to the same place and drank numerous bottles and created a space (thanks to wonderful friends) where I could only talk about the shit without forcing myself to always caveat it with a positive or something I was grateful for. It was a lovely afternoon/evening of laughing, complaining, crying and cheering to life, friends and Labour Day.
The aforementioned optimism didn’t last quite as long as I would have liked and this past almost year has been tough too. For different reason but really all the same reasons. I have struggled with knowing that I need to process more – give myself more space for talking and writing about my feelings – and actually creating that space. I have felt like a burden, I have been exhausted with myself and worried a lot about being exhausting to those around me. I’ve also start to face the not so nice fact that this is likely my new reality. The surgically-induced menopause has brought changes, the medication and its side effects are a constant and I’m just not as capable as I was – mentally, emotionally* or physically. And no matter how much I want to deny it, I have metastatic breast cancer (which means its not going away). The fear, anger, grief aren’t either – they ebb and flow along with happiness, hope and other good stuff but they are there. Pretending that they are not there and that I’m all good doesn’t help (me).
*With serious questions over how emotionally capable I have ever been 🙂
And this third and maybe some answers?
Long story long, here I am a few days away anticipating 1 May 2026. And not necessarily closer to understanding really why I give this day so much attention. Yet, maybe I am. 1 May has become the one day of the year that I think it is truly okay to be all about me and cancer. Because really, who’s going to say, Katherine, stop talking about cancer and your feelings on my cancerversary day? The day is the space that I struggle to create – so I feel some pressure to use that space as much as I can. I do also feel it’s important to celebrate life on this day – because life is short and realistically, these days are limited. Maybe there’s also part of me – a part that makes me feel extremely uncomfortable – that wants to use this day to actually pat myself on the back a little for getting through the past years – not just surviving but – on and off – living.
While I should not believe that 1 May is the only day that I can take space to talk about what it’s like to live with cancer, I’m not quite there yet. So in three days, I’ll likely try and fill as much of that space as possible with all of the feels – good and bad. I’m also going to commemorate the end of the third year with a couple of new tattoos – because I’m three years in to treatment that on average last two to three years – above average feels pretty good and it should be marked.
And while I don’t entirely believe that the mindset I have on 1 May will set the course for the rest of the year, I do see this day as the start of a “new” year. Along with hoping that by the fourth cancerversay, I’ll have found a way to create space for myself to process this cancer stuff and not leave it all until 1 May 2027, this year, I am going to try set a new self-fulling prophecy. In what I think is a sign of growth – instead of forcing gratefulness (1st cancerversary) or listing all the things I’m ungrateful for (2nd cancerversary) – I am going to attempt to help myself do this fourth year of cancer with a bit more fun and a bit more “fuck off” to caring what people think of me. On 1 May 2026 – surrounded by friends (near and far) and probably with a few glasses/bottles too many – I’m going to create a list of things that I can do that can help (or challenge?) me to get out of my head, be a bit more spontaneous and embrace the fun. Here’s to life, friends and Labour Day.
Ps I’ll let you know what the list is!!
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