The moment when you know.
27 September 2019 • brain tumour, cancer, Lauren Mahon, the tumour tale, Wobble
I’m
not sure when I knew. There was no exact, pinpointed moment; it felt
like a huge dark cloud coming over me, enveloping me, for months. I
just... knew.
I
recently listened to some older episodes of
Jules and Sarah’s quite brilliant podcast, Wobble. It’s a show
about mental health, self care, and body positivity. The guests
are incredible, too; Claudia Winkleman, Megan Crabbe (the one and
only @bodyposipanda), Jamie Windust (perhaps better known as
@leopardprintelephant), Lucy Sheridan (absolute angel @lucysheridan) and
Lauren Mahon (blogger/social media wizard @iamlaurenmahon and also badass creator of @girlvscancer), to name a few. But
the episode with the latter (hehehe) was what hit me hardest – of
course, because y’know, cancer.
I
adore Lauren. She inspires me endlessly; imagine learning you had
breast cancer (despite having, as Lozza says, no tits) and then not just
telling your massive following on social media, and keeping them all
updated throughout the journey you then go on with treatment and
surgery, but ALSO creating
your own business, Girl vs Cancer – oh, and then raising over
£18,000 (at time of recording this podcast ep) for breast cancer
charities. I mean, whut? Idol.
Anyway, gushing over. Lauren said in the episode that she knew, as soon as they took a boob biopsy and said they’d have her results the following week, that she had cancer. She said it was horrible, because she literally went from feeling perfectly normal, the only thing out of the ordinary being a lump somewhere it really shouldn’t be... to getting slapped with the C-word and having her whole life flipped upside down.
It made me think back to the start of my journey (god, it feels so cheesy and fluffy calling it that; it didn’t feel like an epic, colourful adventure, more like a ghost train of terror whirling through the darkness at great speed for many, many months... but 'journey' is easier to say) and I wondered when exactly I knew. Honestly, I’m not sure. But I think I can trace it back to the neurologist, saying casually as I left his office (literally, as my hand closed around the door handle) ‘Oh, we’ll book you in for a brain MRI as well. This isn’t usually how a brain tumour presents itself, but it’s worth checking just to rule it out.’
Then I had the words ‘brain tumour’ in my head for the following couple of weeks leading up to that impromptu, ‘just in case’ scan. I joked about it with friends (‘oh, I can’t move my arm that much. Y’know, because of my tumour. Hahaha’), but worried quietly to myself, because it made so much sense to me suddenly. I think I knew, then. Still, it wasn’t until I peeked out of the MRI (through the mirror they attached to my head brace) and saw the cluster of radiographers crowded around the computer screen, that I truly believed it. Then a day later, a specialist confirmed that there was Something There, and booked me in for an urgent consultation with a neurosurgeon.
It was as he said 'a mass in your brain' that the most peculiar relief began to roll deeply through my whole body. Because finally, there was an answer. Finally, we knew what had to be done. Oh sure, they had no clue what exactly was lurking amongst my more normal cells, but it was a start. It was enough.
Can
you imagine if I hadn’t had that scan booked in? If
the specialist hadn’t had that impulse, at the last minute as I
left his office after a good half hour of trying to hold both arms
up, hand write a complete sentence, and walk down a corridor in a
straight line – relatively easy tasks when you’re healthy, but quite
a bit trickier when you’ve got a tumour and cysts growing
and bumping around inside your brain – who knows where I'd be now. Or what would have happened, further down the line. Of course, we're not supposed to think like that, because the important thing is something was done, and it's all okay now (sort of). Maybe it's just how my messed up brain works; I'll always wonder what could have been. I like to think my gut instinct, my inexplicable, innate knowing, would have got me to the right people and the best place in the end. And honestly, since that revelation that my gut and brain can work together (despite their respective difficulties and differences) changed me massively. I now book a GP appointment the second I get any inklings. I have even been admitted into hospital, after hours in A&E, almost yelling at a consultant urgently to put me in the CT scanner. I am not afraid of seeming crazy, or deluded. I trust my instincts now.
If any of this waffle makes sense to you, dear readers, please let me know (via tweet or comment). And if it rings a few alarm bells in your brain (or any key organ, for that matter) then don't hesitate to reach out; to me, even to Lauren maybe, and definitely to your GP – to anyone who can listen, and help you.
If any of this waffle makes sense to you, dear readers, please let me know (via tweet or comment). And if it rings a few alarm bells in your brain (or any key organ, for that matter) then don't hesitate to reach out; to me, even to Lauren maybe, and definitely to your GP – to anyone who can listen, and help you.
Instagram Honesty (4).
15 September 2019 • Instagram, Instagram Honesty, social media
I
enjoy social media; it's brilliant, clever and connects us all. It's
also terrible, toxic and at times dangerous. I know a lot of people
who go through phases of ‘detoxing’ now and again for self care
reasons, and others who have actually deleted any themselves from
every platform. Which is really quite sensible, when one thinks about
it…
Since being inspired by various bloggers, vloggers and encouragers (an alternative term the lovely Lexie invented to replace 'influencers', which I maintain sounds a little manipulative and menacing) who have been so open about their social media platforms being just a highlights reel and not always a clear view into their actual lives, I have written three posts like this one. You can read the others HERE.
Now, let me be honest with you about a few of my latest Instagram uploads.
Grace's Guide to Personal Hygiene (a book review + stories)
9 September 2019 • a girl's guide to personal hygiene, bookish, taboo, Tallulah Pomeroy
I
recently read 'A Girl’s Guide to Personal Hygiene: true stories, illustrated', by Tallulah Pomeroy. It
was gifted to me by the babes at Scribe, but that in no way affects
my opinion that it is absolutely hilarious, and totally bang on in
a lot of allegedly disgusting ways.
'Women aren't as ladylike as people would like to imagine. Using secrets collected from hundreds of them, this exquisitely disgusting illustrated book rewrites our definition of femininity.
When
artist Tallulah Pomeroy asked people to anonymously submit anecdotes
about the weird, unruly things they did with their bodies, she was
inundated. From tampons and trapped wind to ear wax and pubes,
stories flowed in from a community of hilarious, radically honest
women, who, by admitting to things they had thought were shameful, no
longer had to feel ashamed.
3 of the biggest wedding worries SOLVED!
8 September 2019 • contributor
*This post was written by a contributor*
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