Send in the Clowns By Holly Searle

Two months ago I was diagnosed with cancer. It seems like years ago now, as it's really starting to drag.

Since then, I have met and taken my clothes off for strangers, visited 3 hospitals, spent in excess of thirty hours waiting to see people or attending appointments whilst hemorrhaging lost income.

I have had blood tests, biopsies, cardiac reports, MRI's, scans, ultrasounds and one operation.

And this is just the beginning.

Because I decided on the living tissue op (boob off and reconstruction carried out in one fell swoop), it has caused a slight problem in communication between two of the hospitals that have been sharing my care.


In my post lymph nodes removal state, I still had a long list of appointments to attend prior to my big op on June 25th. These are starting to manifest themselves like some crazy most do list in my head that I need to complete as I edge closer to the big cut.

High anxiety.

I attend my surgical appointment to discuss my up and coming op to be informed it's now a week later on July 2nd (I didn't get that letter), and then wait around for two hours to see the cancer surgeon, who within moments of finally sitting down with me, it becomes apparently clear that he has none of my information or notes.

He is obviously more than a little stressed about this. But not as stressed as I am about it. Instead of fessing up and saying Look, there's been a massive cock-up, fancy coming back on another day when there isn't, he just tries to apportion blame elsewhere, which makes him look like a clown.

To add insult to injury, he starts calling my cancer my disease. He repeats this phrase several times during the course of our meeting. Disease, disease, disease. So much so that it really starts to grate on my nerves. I haven't got the Bubonic plague, I have cancer.

Seriously. I feel like Alyssa from The End of the F***ing World.

I am furious, as I do not leave knowing anything else or what he proposes to do. I do bag a body scan and a bone scan and the knowledge that if my cancer is bigger, after asking about the histology results from my lymph nodes, that my disease may have spread.

Great.

I am so angry. I have a whole weekend to worry about all of this and if my once sex-bombed re-imagined time-bomb body is hosting further possibilities.

My disease and I send emails of despair to those who might be able to shed some light on the situation. All weekend we stress.

Monday I make calls. I am literally shouting HELP as I have lost all confidence in the support from hospital two. Finally I get some.

The incredible supportive team at hospital one rescue me with their empathy, kindness and humanity. They tell me to come and see them and to talk. Then I realise I will be able to hear my lymph nodes histology result a day earlier than anticipated. So I brace myself.

They contain micro cancer too.

Thanks disease.

I ask the doctor I trust what he thinks. He tells me that there are four types of possible cancers that they look for in lymph nodes and that I have the more positive one. He says he thinks my prognoses in his experience should be okay.

But, I probably won't have radiotherapy but chemo instead.

It's all a big top of fun.

On the day my solo exhibition was beautifully hung in Bath, I sat under the hospital atrium in the bright sun light reviewing the images and enjoying that moment of pure joy and normality at the end of an otherwise hectic and emotional day.

Don't you love farce?

C is For Cancer By Holly Searle

So, I have cancer.

How scary is that word?

When the consultant told me, I didn't hear another word he said after he said that word.

My mind just went into overdrive.

Am I going to die?

Is this how I am going to die?

Really?

Is this it?

How bad is it?

CANCER?

What the fuck.

The nurse found a room for us to talk in. The first thing she said was 'Well you probably didn't hear a word he said after he said the word Cancer. BUT, I am going to run through it all with you, so you understand exactly what is going on'.

And so she did.

I have Invasive Ductal Carcinoma.

It's in my left breast. It's small, early and treatable.

If you could want to choose which cancer to have, it would be this one she said.

But I was still thinking, really, cancer?

My mind works like this: the day before I was told I had cancer, I knew nothing about it, but today I do. So I just need to know what and how to proceed from this point on to resolve it. I am the same person as I was yesterday, I now just have something else to deal with.

Then, I started to think emotionally about it.

I would quite like to be really old when I die. I would like to watch my grandchildren grow-up and see them blossom. I would like to see my son graduate from University and continue to be so so proud of my daughter's incredible ambition.

I would like to travel a bit more and finally move into a house with a garden and be kissed passionately by an as yet, unknown lover.

These are all of the thoughts that are knocking on the door of the cancer space in my head. I can't let those thoughts in right now until I know I am going to get rid of this parasite that has become an unwelcome guest in my body.

My surgeon asked me if I would like to feel the lump. I didn't really want too as I would rather not acknowledge its existence in my life: by doing that, would be having to admit to it being real. But, I did and it is.

What a massive pile of crap that is.

I am just going through the motions.

Because it is small, early and treatable, the prognosis based on all the science, looks good. However, until I have my initial op and the results that follow on from it, I am still holding my mental breath. I have pacified those knocking thoughts for now by posting a note on the door that simply says ' You'll know when I do.'

I know that cancer doesn't always equal death, but I think a lot of people do draw that conclusion. I know this from the reactions I have received. But, I also think that is the reaction that they would have if they had been given the news themselves.

I have never had cancer before and I hope I never have it again. I want it gone as I have too much to do.

As I have got older I have realised that the value of time and how and I spend it is the only currency of worth in my life, and I am going to spend as little of it as I possibly can on and with this cancer. It can do one.

It has certainly made me think about the relevant and irreverent on a daily basis, so much so that I wonder why I hadn't thought like that before.

For now, the future is several appointments prior to surgery and then then more pathology results, followed by (fingers crossed) some intense radiotherapy. Then, touch wood, my surgeon tells me that it should be as though I never had it.

Small, early, treatable.

He said to me 'Someone is watching over you, not once but twice. Once because you were called back, and twice because it is so small.'

Just between us, for a man of science to tell me this, gives me hope.

Curriculum vitae - [the] course of [my] life By Holly Searle

I woke-up this morning with the same set of thoughts that the weekends appear to allow my over-tax mind these days; must lose weight, take care better care of myself, try not to suffer so many fools so gladly, file my most recent short story rejection with all of its brothers and sisters, and the current horrid unsuppressed malevolent unshakeable shadow of my subconscious' bête noire, the knowledge that pretty soon my pay will cease, unless of course I bag a hoochie coochie new job.

Ahhhh, I thought as my body and mind both started to unwind as I liquidated it with coffee, and mooched about for a bit thinking about life, and my role in its till receipt.

I guess I woke-up with all of this negativity clouding my brain as last night I was interviewed about something I didn't really have the heart to be interviewed about in the first place. And because I felt as though I had been duped into taking part in the process. And then, when I reviewed the photographic evidence of these proceedings, where I am standing next to two size 10 women, I looked like a bloated version of my former self.

Eeewwwwwwww.

Wince mentally, whilst making that face that I make with one eye closed, and my brow furrowed.

Then, as my mind tends to shift gear quicker than the support for Clarkson, I started to give myself that old pep talk about how that was just who I am, and that I really should be a little more less critical of myself and try to focus on all of the positives that I have actually managed to achieve in my life.

Did you know that the Curriculum vitae actually loosely translates into [the] course of [my] life?

Hummmmmmmmmmm, interesting.

In the CV I have now sent off to numerous advertised job posts, I have listed all of the relevant job roles that I have had that list my work life responsibilities and skills. And isn't it funny I thought, to nobody apart from myself, how we don't do this with our lives.

So I drew the conclusion that we should all write a personal CV as well as a professional one, noting all of our attributes and abilities and the like.

So here is mine.


Personal Profile

51 year old single female. Mother of two, and grandmother to one adorable little boy, whom she is helplessly in love with. Prone to laugh at life at every opportunity, whilst being bought to her knees by the idiosyncratic behaviour of humanity.

Dislikes cruel people.

Likes cats more than dogs (they make her itch and smell like wet wool).

Poor dating record as far as the men in her life are concerned. Likes to apply the idiom that like the bus she has just missed, there will be another one along in a minute.

Enjoys her own space. Likes sleeping. Enjoys the small luxuries in life, like a hot bath, silicone ear plugs, and a good book.

Has a 100 per cent positive feedback on Ebay with over 800 transactions (mostly second hand clothing). Likes words. Finds writing a personal liberation, although tends to over fantasise about the reality of making a living doing this, and would be the first to admit she can procrastinate with the process.

Is a good and supportive friend, although she needs her quiet time. Likes old movies, reading filmatic styled narratives. Doesn't particularly like drinking. Hasn't eaten meat since she was 15. Likes a good chat, is a good listener. Likes people, but cannot abide emotional vampires.

Has no time for time wasters. Can be too gullible. Has trust issues. Likes books. Elephants are her favourite animal. Cannot stand noise, drunks, cold-callers, homophobes or anyone who has an issue with difference that allows them to think that its existence empowers their short-sightedness.

Would like to live by the sea. Own several pieces of art. Be able to drive, and would hope that she has made tiny alterations to the lives of those she has had the pleasure to have interacted with.

Has been a great parent, and will be an even greater grandparent. Is proud of her children.

Has no religious beliefs.

Will never be skinny.

Has no grey hairs.


1963 – 1972

Born in the centre of London. One of three. Lived at various locations in London. Lived through three day week strikes. Power cuts. Attended protest rallies against Thatcher when she held the post of education minister. Never got a second bottle of milk at school as her surname began with S. Had many pet cats. First record ever purchased, Storm in a Teacup – The Fortunes. Was the fat kid at school.

1972 – 1981

Changed schools. Inducted into a new life in West London. Built friendships with people that she still has today. Bullied at school and probably had dyslexia for which her English teacher ridiculed her for, rather than helped her with. Attended concerts at London venues that now no longer exist. Overlooked at school, then was fortunate to be notice by an incredible teacher who introduced her to the wonders of literature. First book ever read - The Catcher in the Rye. Gained a new brother and became one of four. Fell in love with a the son of a Lord. Travelled a bit. Sang live. Finished school. Left home. Had some grubby mindless jobs. Worked on far too many films, TV shows, and adverts to be able to recall the names of.

1981 – 1991

Got lost in life without any clear destination. Had a horrific dating experience. Was foolhardy in mistakenly marrying a man. Went home after that ended. Wrote some music. Had beautiful girl. Homeless. Eventually found a home to live and grow in.

1991 – 1997

Made a home. Went back to college and then on to University and left with a degree. Loved every minute that she was in education for the second time, apart from all of the mucky jobs that she did to make extra money to support herself and her child to enable this process.

1997 – 2004

Depression. Found a great job. Met second husband. Had a gorgeous boy. Left the great job. Got married. Brought a home. Went to RELATE to save the relationship. But like the Titanic, it was beyond saving. Gilbert O'Sullivan Alone Again Naturally. Tammy Wynette D I V O R C E.
Sold most of her valuables to keep her and her charges afloat. Managed.

2004 – Present

Dark days. Survived with the help and assistance of many incredible individuals all of whom the words Thank You will never be enough.
Pulled her mental socks up. Child One got married and gave birth to the most beautiful and hilarious little boy.
Child Two has grown into a handsome young fella who is super smart and funny. He also bares an uncanny House of the Rising Sun resemblance to the young Alan Price. Me, I started writing. I found after a few hic ups how much I liked it. Got a job. The best part of the job was all of the people I worked with. We laugh everyday and support each other when we do not. Met a man. It didn't work out. I know why. He doesn't. Currently looking for a new job after being made redundant.

Key Responsibilities

Being human.
Growing up.
Learning.
Laughing.
Being a parent.
Having children.
Providing.
Making money and paying bills.
Being a woman.

Key Skills

Spinning plates and juggling balls.
Talking.
Being opinionated.
Resourcefulness.
Worrying.
Keeping it all together.

Personal Attributes

Being good at cuddling.
Great sense of humour.
Being a sauce pot.
My imagination.
Having nice hair.

Secret Wish

To be able to time travel.

Greatest Achievements.

Having my children and being their mother.


So that's the course of my life (so far).

And after writing all of that, this morning's waking thought, seem to belong to someone else.

So here's an image from last night.

Thanks for reading.