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12 Months of Cancer, wrapped up!

 


The day I found out I had Cancer, I looked myself in the eyes in the mirror. I spoke to the cancer and told it ''I give you 12 months, that's it. you're not having a day more.'' 

I didn’t expect the second clear scan to affect me as much as it did.

The first one brought relief — huge relief — but it also came with disbelief. After everything my body had been through, part of me was still waiting for the catch. Cancer teaches you to be cautious with good news, even when you’re desperate to believe it.

The second set of scans felt different.

This time, when I heard the words no recurrence, nothing of concern, something shifted. It wasn’t just relief — it was reassurance. A quiet, steady confidence that what we’d been through had worked, and that my body was continuing to heal. I'd kicked cancer's ass!

In the days leading up to the scan, I noticed the familiar tension creeping in. I was getting on with life, feeling stronger, moving forward — but underneath it all was that held breath. Scan anxiety doesn’t disappear just because you’re doing well. It’s part of the landscape now.

When the results came back clear again, it felt like I could finally exhale properly.

More than anything, it made recovery feel real.

There was a sense of gratitude that settled rather than rushed. Gratitude for ordinary days, for plans made without a mental safety net, for being able to look ahead without immediately scanning for danger. It wasn’t loud or celebratory — it was calm and grounding.

The second clear scan also gave me permission to live a little more freely. To stop bracing. To start trusting my body again. To accept that healing isn’t just something that happened in the hospital — it’s something that’s continuing every day.

Cancer doesn’t disappear from your story just because the scans are clear. But moments like this help it move further into the background. They remind you that life can grow again around what’s happened.

Hearing “no recurrence” for the second time felt like confirmation that this new chapter is real. That recovery is holding. That hope doesn’t need to be tentative forever.

And for now, that’s more than enough.

It's time for Jo and I to start planning our wedding and starting the new year cancer free,  full of life and most importantly, happy!

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