Happy neo year. Not new year, neo year. And not neo as in the rise of the Nazi in Trump/Brexit 2017 but neo as in my neobladder. I’ve started the new – sorry neo – year with the neobladder in the neo me and it feels like a brand neo start.
OK I’ll stop now.
I hate to tempt fate but there’s not much to report. I’m a massive worrier and not even I’m too worried. (I always wanted to be one of those people who shrugged off life’s trials and suffered their afflictions without question but, nah, I’m a worrier and a moaner).
I feel normal. I mean, a new normal. The neobladder isn’t perfect. But then my old bladder wasn’t either. I think of pee less, cancer less and attend hospital much, much less. I’ve started running again and we’ve even booked a holiday.
So, what are my hopes for 2017? The year I wouldn’t have seen much of if I hadn’t been diagnosed and treated swiftly (yes, I owe the NHS that much).
I’m fundraising for charidee (more of that in my next blog).
I want to generate a new income stream (I’m hoping to start a small business although we shall see).
And that’s it. No bungee jumping, no spoon-whittling courses: I just want to get back to normal. Of course life now comes with the added perspective of knowing I’ve dodged a bullet and I appreciate it just a little bit more. I’ve learnt a lot (in a nutshell: anyone can get cancer, it’s really scary, the medics will do their damndest to help you, it sends you a bit bonkers, you learn who your friends are and there’s more to life than work and money).
Let’s hope I’ve learned the lesson the hard way so you don’t have to. Here’s to a healthy 2017 (I wanted to add peaceful but with Trump/Brexit, I have little hope of that).