Not too long ago, I was terrified of turning thirty. Birthdays naturally lead one to evaluate their life and all the decisions they’ve made up until that point. A 30th birthday brings with it all the usual apprehension of such a milestone and then some! For me, and for many people I’m sure, I viewed my twenties as a time of youthful exploration and I saw my fast approaching thirties as a call to ‘settle down’. In fact, Bret and I had always agreed that our turning thirty would mark the time for us to start a family. I have always been very excited at that prospect, and yet for the better part of last year I would panic at the thought of it being my last year as a twenty-something year old. I would make a big fuss about not being ready to grow up and I would playfully chastise Bret for having the audacity to make such a transition a full month after I had. Let me tell you though… cancer really blew this fear out of the water! As deeply despairing as I felt about being a 29 year old with cancer, I feel equally as thankful that I am getting the chance to be a 30 year old with cancer. And of course, later this year, hopefully a 30 year old without cancer!

Recently I have been reflecting on the three months I’ve lived since my diagnosis. It seems an impossibly long amount of time, and yet so short. My experiences are divided into pre and post diagnosis, and when I look back at the person I was before I very much seem like a different person. And that makes sense of course, because I have endured so much already. I have faced the very worst of fears, and yet I have also felt the truest kindness and love that this world has to offer. If last month was a time of depression, then it feels to me that this month is a time of hope. I don’t find myself trapped in mazes of fear anymore. Visions of my death no longer assault me at strange and unexpected moments. Instead, I have conjured and cultivated my own vision. One of Bret and I playing with our future children on Zuma beach in Malibu. My parents are there with us and I see us all laughing and goofing around in the surf. The image is sunnily ethereal and yet somehow seems wholly real to me. It is a dream I am going to have to fight for my life for, but it is also a dream that seems absolutely possible to achieve, even if I have to wait a few more years to be finished with treatment.

Of course, I am in no doubt that my improvement in mood is linked to the fact that my chemotherapy seems to be working extremely well! I had my follow up MRI last week (sexy hospital gown photo below), and from what we can tell I may be on track to have a pathological complete response to the chemo by the time of my surgery. As I mentioned before, this is huge news as it would lower my chances of having a recurrence. I am now four rounds down with chemo, which means only two left! And after my next round I will meet with my surgeon again to discuss my options. I am looking forward to getting this conversation started because, as ever when dealing with cancer, there are choices to be made and countless factors to consider.

In other unrelated good news, Bret had a milestone of his own last week: his first writing credit in a feature film for his work as co-composer on the upcoming movie “Five Feet Apart”. I couldn’t be prouder of my husband and am astounded by the beautiful and entirely charming score he tirelessly created. Luckily the chemo Gods smiled down on me, and I was well enough to attend the premiere with Bret and (for the first time) see the movie myself. It really is a wonderfully poignant and endearing film, and I’m not ashamed to say that I cried all the way through it. Of course, cancer is a very different diagnosis to cystic fibrosis, but I certainly did relate to some of the themes of the movie. Being sick doesn’t feel like a young man’s game, and I know that in my journey so far I have often felt very isolated because of my age.

I find myself looking to the future a lot more now. We currently have Bret’s parents visiting, and his brother has just moved to LA as well, so it’s been wonderful to have family around to help out and make us laugh! They’ll be here to help me celebrate the big 3-0, and after they leave we have friends visiting from the UK. After that my parents will be here for my 6th and final round of chemo! So I really feel that there’s lots to be excited about and grateful for.

And so, today is the last day of my twenties. I drank chocolate milk, watched four episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and painstakingly puffed my way through thirty minutes of pilates. I feel pretty God Damn proud of everything I’ve done to get me to today, and I’m utterly resolved to stick around and make the next decade even better.

With love,

Emma xxx

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