Te Haerenga (The Journey)

As you probably know I love a good story and the best books and stories usually involve a hero's journey.

What the heck are you on about Frana? A hero's journey is a common template for stories. The hero goes on an adventure, is victorious in a decisive crisis and comes home changed or transformed. This morning I finished a beautiful novel, All Our Shimmering Skies by Trent Dalton, that used this very device.

The profound thing is we are all on our own journeys and it is up to us whether we make it a hero's one or not.

This month I will celebrate the third anniversary of my cancer diagnosis - the beginning of that hero's journey. You've been on it with me if you have followed this blog. As part of that journey I had my penultimate zometa infusion this week. I am having a course of 6 of these infusions over a three year period to reduce the risk of the cancer metastasising into my bones. My sixth and last infusion will be in October. It makes me feel bone achingly tired, feverish and I am currently sporting an angry red rash on my face. My face! I guess it is all part of the adventure or does it meet the coming home transformed part of the brief? Whatever, I am much less vain these days. A rash on my face is nothing compared to being bald, moon faced, eyelashless and having my finger nails dangling off.

In other news I am scheduled for further breast reconstruction surgery on 2 July. The surgery on 30 January went well and the plastic surgeon is happy with the result. It is a bit of lottery because they are grafting fat to an area that is scar tissue (because my chest has had radiotherapy) so the fat might not establish a blood supply and die. Most of mine appears to have survived the hero's journey from my flanks to my chest, was victorious and came home changed into a boob!

I was very moved by the video statement by Catherine, Princess of Wales, announcing her cancer diagnosis to the world. Like her, I had to break that news to my child. Her priority will be reassuring them and keeping things as calm and normal as possible at home. Imagine dealing with a cancer diagnosis, getting your head around your treatment options, breaking the news to your family and friends and then having to sit down and record a message to the whole world? That poor, brave, strong woman. My heart breaks for her.

Having cancer, and going through treatment, is life changing. Nothing can ever be the same again. You don't have the level of comfort you had before. It can also be an opportunity, a reminder that life is for living, for doing stuff and seeing people you love. My life is definitely more colourful now. I no longer assume I have another 40 years to get stuff done. If I want to see my friends in another town, I will organise to do it. If I want to learn something new, I will learn it. If I want to find someone I have lost contact with, I will locate them. Being confronted with your mortality gives you a sense of urgency.

Which brings me on to learning something new. This year I started my te reo Māori journey and I have absolutely loved it. On Tuesday I complete my first 10 week course (Tahi) at Te Kura Pō, Unitec (Waitakere Campus). Every Tuesday night this term I have spent 3 hours learning Maori language and culture. My favourite bits have been learning, waiata, and making friends with people I would not have met otherwise. Next term I am moving to the Mt Albert Campus with some of my new friends, to do Rua on my marae, Te Noho Kotahitanga Marae.

Work is starting to get busy again and my firm has some fantastic opportunities coming up this year. I am concentrating on my work, keeping well and fixing the two lingering bits of cancer damage - my sleeved left arm and my half attached finger nails. My arm measured normal at its last assessment. If it continues to measure in the normal range I will be able to be compression sleeveless. I have cut off all the unattached fingernail and am treating them twice daily in case I picked up some kind of infection while immunocompromised. I hope this year will see the end of all the cancer upheaval - a restored and healthy body with no lingering reminders. Stuff might continue into next year but I know all my reconstruction surgery has to be done by May 2025 because that's when Southern Cross will stop paying for it. The end of my hero's journey is in sight, my victory will be decisive and once this is all over, I will have been changed forever for the better.

Mā te kimi ka kite, Mā te kite ka mōhio, Mā te mōhio ka mārama

Seek and discover. Discover and know. Know and become enlightened