Sir Chris Hoy, Gold Olympian and who appears to me to be just a thoroughly nice human being says he has terminal cancer diagnosis. To top that, his wife has just been diagnosed with MS. They found a secondary cancer tumour in his shoulder some time ago which was traced to prostate cancer. How awful.
When I heard that and I also saw someone talking last night about their cancer treatments I got quite a strong flashback to my Immunotherapy sessions. It was a shock to feel the pain (yes) and the body shakes and then recollect the side effects of passing out stuff from my body. Suddenly I felt the sadness of it and I feel tears trying to escape as I type this because it was something I went through and it was necessary to fight the cancer I had. It was a lot worse than I let on to anyone because you protect them as much as you are trying to protect yourself (if that even makes sense?). But I was aware of something a lot more that that. I was really sad because my Ex nursed me through all of it and I felt bad about that. She really did look after me, drove me to and from the appointments (there was probably no way I could have driven back). Looked after me, fed me, brought water, made sure I did what I had to do (timings, changing position to let the stuff I was infused with get to all parts of my Bladder. She brought food up to me when I was lying and recovering in bed and on top of that she looked after the girls and the house and all that whilst I was pretty much incapacitated for at least two days a week. After six days I'd go and get it done all over again and believe me, this stuff is cumulative. If you felt bad at week one, by week six you'd had about as much as you could take.
And I feel a sh1t that I broke up with her. I feel sad and bad and upset and annoyed, regretful, a bit of a bastard that after all that, things changed so much that I wanted out.
It's strange I suppose. We didn't row or fight or be massively angry with each other and she was very tolerant of me I think. Things just fell apart towards the end despite some effort on both of our parts.
Today I really feel bad about it. The balance will be that it was probably better to walk away than to stay where I was slipping in and out of depression.
I suppose it is better to be regretful than hateful? I don't know, today feels like a bad day, reflecting on the news and then remembering stuff that I try not to think about. Blimey it was tough but the upside is that I am still here. The treatment worked, perhaps a few too many scopes and operations that weren't needed but you never know do you?
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