health, holistic health, ovarian cancer

The Necessary Grief of the Life Unlived

My cancer markers rose again.

Four months in a row.

Slowly rising, creeping upwards, no longer stable and far from dropping.

It’s not good news.

My treatment is no longer as effective. The trial I fought for is no longer holding things at bay. There is a crack in the dam. The dam is still there, yes, but it’s no longer as effective at holding the tide back from crushing me as it once was.

Was I naive to think that it would keep things at bay longer? Was I overly hopeful?

I thought I was realistic. I thought I had accepted and understood the odds, that I realised how lucky I was that it had worked for as long as it had. Yet my tears tonight tell a different story.

They show the hope that’s been lost, the fear, the anger, the sense of defeat in a battle I never even willingly engaged in.

And while it’s far from over (I am still on the trial treatment and it is still doing ‘something’ even if that isn’t as much as it once was) this rise marks a turn in events.

No longer do I feel like I have the upper hand. No longer do I feel in control. No longer do I feel like I have a grasp on what is coming next.

It’s the fear that hurts the most. The fear of more bad news, of more pain, of less options, of death.

It’s the fear of breaking other people’s hearts, of no longer being able to keep a brave face, of losing my sense of self to this insidious disease.

But most of all it’s the worry that I took the time I had for granted; so busy telling others to live like they are dying that I forgot to do it myself.

I’ve had many great adventures yes but did I love enough, did I laugh enough, did I open my heart to the deep vulnerability necessary for true connection?

I don’t know. But I plan to spend the rest of my days finding out and making sure.

Today marks a change, a shift. Tonight it feels painful. I feel deep sorrow and grief for the life I thought I was ‘supposed’ to have. Tomorrow I will welcome a new day, a new phase, a new beginning.

But, for now, I grieve.

11 thoughts on “The Necessary Grief of the Life Unlived”

  1. I am thinking of you Fi. You are a warrior. A woman with power. Give this fucking disease the finger xxxx

  2. Fi – thank you for all the help,knowledge and advice you have given freely and willingly, now is the time to internalize all of it and dedicate time for you.
    Lovely lady inside and out positive thoughts sent to you x

  3. Sending you healing energy & warm, cozy hugs. You are an incredible light & I am certain this recent information will not define you. Be as gentle & kind to yourself as you are to others. You are exactly where you should be for your own growth & the people that love you. Love you girl💖💖💖

  4. I am saddened to have just read this and I know you feel defeated today, not a bit wonder but please tomorrow try and bring fi the fighter back to the table tomorrow and kick it so hard!! You’ve got the power. Xxxxx

    My page on fb stormys chemo clean up. Have a look im not where you are but the fear is always there. Im high risk of cancer returns in next 2-5 years. I wish you well. I bought your book and I think about you every day. Cancer is a bastard.

  5. Keep fighting, your an inspiration to so many. Tomorrow is another day for you to enjoy. Put yourself first 😍

  6. Shit, Fi, you’re far too hard on yourself by a long way. Not for one moment have you taken your life for granted. You lived as we all do, pushing away the thought of death until we have to deal with it for real. But when you had to deal with it for real, you stood up and said ‘Ok, let’s see what you’ve got’ and that was more than bravado, that was true courage, which as you know you found there in your core, not wanting. You dug deep and found it and it still remains even today.
    Not only did you find this for yourself but you’ve lifted so many of us up from the mire along with you. So many, many people are living life today, the Fi Munro way of ‘bring it on’ simply because of the fear you’ve felt and rose above, because of the worry you’ve faced and the ways in which you’ve learned to overcome.
    Not for one minute did we think you’d become immortal, but for those who’ve followed the unfolding story of your life, we’ve begun to learn to live for this day and this day alone. Yes it’s sad, sad for me, to think of you no longer here even in the far off future. But for today, I can rejoice in the you who is still here; the you who even now takes time to share your vulnerability, bare your soul. And that gives me hope. That gives me courage. That actually, as you know, gives me life, real life – real life which I can live for others too.
    You are teaching us that this is the real way to live this ‘in a twinkling of an eye’ life, that it’s ALL so precious, that it’s all so worthy of our fullest attentions.
    The truest Love which you’ve shared with us will live on and on in us and in our children, it can’t fail to.
    So yes, now be true to yourself and grieve when you have to and be the realest you that you can be. We Love you all the same.

  7. My heart goes out to you. Your time has never been wasted. You have helped so many people. That’s part of a life well lived. Time to focus on you and your loved ones Honey. To really go for it and enjoy your experiences. It’s not about being here for a long time. It’s being here for a great time!
    Give yourself a couple of days to grieve, then do what your good at Fiona. Bounce back! Bounce back and live for today.
    So many people will be sending their love and gratitude to you for helping them to enjoy their life. I am sure that we all want you to now enjoy yours. Xxx

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