With the aim of being wholly authentic here – I wrote this post a couple of months ago. Then things got bad. Nothing to do with melanoma. Bad things happening to other people, and I couldn’t quite believe our “luck”, or lack thereof. I can’t be my usual open book as they aren’t my stories to tell. And it felt odd posting about luck at that time, hence the huge hiatus. I’m going to carry on with this story however, as I still believe it’s an important one to tell.

When it comes to cancer terminology, I really couldn’t care less about people supposedly saying the right or the wrong thing. In my opinion, everybody uses words in different ways and with different intentions on a daily basis, and I really hate the thought that someone might be nervous to talk to me at the risk of “saying the wrong thing.” All of that being said, there is one phrase that slightly irks me. And it’s all to do with the battle!

People in the cancer community often refer to “fighting a battle” or “losing their battle”. (n.b. please believe me when I say I’m not precious about it, nor would I be offended if someone was to tell me to keep on fighting.) The reason I don’t particularly like this terminology, is because of the implication that you have any sort of control over what is happening to you, and that perhaps you didn’t fight hard enough if things aren’t going the same way for you as they are for other people. I firmly believe that along with a cancer diagnosis, comes a hella lot of luck!

I honestly don’t think I have ever felt as lucky, and equally as unlucky in my entire life than since being diagnosed. I have felt higher than high, and lower than low, and have said (to myself, as well as others) “Gosh, I feel so lucky that…” or “I’m really grateful for …..” more times in the last year than ever before. This might be something to take away – why do we only start practising gratitude when something difficult is going on in our lives?

In cancer terms: I feel unlucky that I was diagnosed with melanoma at the age of 26. I feel unlucky that it came back with a vengeance last summer. I feel lucky that it was picked up early. I feel incredibly lucky that I have a mutation (BRAF positive) in my melanoma meaning I have more treatment options than other patients. I feel lucky that I have responded to immunotherapy. I feel unlucky that I haven’t had a complete response (yet). I feel lucky that I’ve not had to have any surgery which would have laid me up for a while and taken me out of my daily life. I feel lucky that I haven’t had to have chemotherapy. The list goes on.

All of these points prove that cancer patients are constantly walking a very fine line between lucky and unlucky. And also that we ultimately have zero control (in my opinion) of how things will pan out. I definitely agree with others who say that you can do things to improve your health (physical and mental) during treatment, and that you can influence certain aspects of the journey by offering your best self to the treatment process. But I don’t believe that these things directly change the ultimate outcome.

I want to move forward feeling a bit more at ease with what’s to come. And not put as much pressure on myself with thoughts like “oh, perhaps I should have done a bit more this or that in the last 3 months” which I then analyse to the nth degree and convince myself that my previous blood test or scan result are, in actual fact, my fault and that I just didn’t battle hard enough. By understanding that what happens is going to happen no matter how many early nights I get, or how many green juices I drink, it means I can relax more in today. And continue hoping to get lucky in the future!