Pretty much the day I got my diagnosis I said to Bret that I wanted to get a dog and that I wanted to finally go on our honeymoon. And, I am happy to share that we are now the very proud owners of… some quite shocking sunburns, courtesy of Maui! (I’m still working on the dog). A fun fact about my husband and I. After 8 years of being together, we’d never been away on holiday just the two of us. The truly wonderful thing about being an immigrant, is that you always have friends and family to visit. But that has meant that romantic trips for the two of us have never amounted to more than the odd night staying at Airbnbs in rural California. On one such trip we accidentally wandered into a rattlesnake suburbia and on another we discovered a camera inside the apartment on the day we were checking out. In short, we did not have a great success rate. Anyone who has ever met me will probably have heard my now relatively well-polished bit about us never having had a honeymoon… how is it we’ve had two weddings, but not even one measly honeymoon? Moving to the land of perpetual road-rage does not in fact equal a honeymoon… especially if you have to deal with the DMV and the fine folks down at the Social Security office.

I had my sixth and final chemo treatment on April 11th. In all honesty, it seemed a momentous occasion for everyone but me. It’s hard to be optimistic about having a final treatment when you know that it will make you incredibly ill for at least the next three weeks. It also seemed to me like the end of the battle, with the war yet to be won. I have three surgeries on the agenda with the first coming up soon on May 23rd, as well as 11 immunotherapy treatments and at least 5 years of hormone suppression. I’m literally a walking pin cushion! This is not to say that I’m feeling despondent though, I’m actually feeling pretty bloody great. My parents flew out to be with me for my last chemo, and my absolute angel chemo nurses surprised me with flowers and a card, so it was of course a special day! Although having said that, it’s a day I can barely remember due to the pretty potent mix of Benadryl and steroids I am always given. My Dad says I spent the final five minutes of treatment basically doing a stand up routine for the ‘Chemo Lounge’. It is a real testament to my family’s strength of character that they didn’t record that for future blackmailing purposes!

So, two and a half weeks after my final chemo, with my ankles still persistently swollen, Bret and I boarded a plane to spend ten days in Maui. We did a lot of exploring, a lot of walking and a lot of eating. It is now that I’ll admit that Maui was a strange choice, due to the fact that I am totally and utterly f*ucking petrified of the ocean. I haven’t done more than reluctantly tip my terror-stricken toes into the surf for nigh-on ten years. This fear comes mainly from watching ‘Jaws’ at the age of 11 and having had gruesome nightmares ever since. It also comes from the fact that the ocean is just so God Damn powerful! I don’t understand why anyone would want to willingly spend time in a place that seems pretty much designed to kill you. Having said that… I really, really, really wanted to see myself some turtles. Bret and I spent several days driving all the way to various different beaches only for me to declare that the water was too murky, or the waves were too big. We happened to be staying at an Airbnb that had snorkels and beach chairs for you to use, so on the final day of our holiday we resolved to give it one last shot and headed out to a magical beach I’d read about, where turtles were supposed to be aplenty. After arriving at the beach, we scrambled over some rocks to the side of the beach that was promised to be a peaceful haven and we found that the water was beautiful and clear. We took our snorkels and headed to the surf. I was feeling reasonably confident as Bret guided me out past the waves with the kind of love one might give a newborn puppy (this was of course 100% needed). By the time we got far enough out that my toes could no longer touch the sand, I found myself on permanent 360-Degree shark watch and suddenly had a full blown panic attack. Wearing a snorkel. At age 30. Feel free to laugh at the ridiculous mental image of a ghostly pale, slightly bald, fully grown woman hyperventilating through a snorkel whilst standing in the most mesmerisingly clear and calm water you’ve ever seen. And then just at that moment, when I sorely needed a reminder of my own insignificance, a turtle swam past. The most beautiful, gentle, calm creature I have ever seen came within a foot of me. And then five minutes later another one ambled past. And then another. Suddenly I went from being on 360-Degree shark watch to being on 360-Degree turtle watch. I wasn’t scared anymore. I smugly declared to Bret that I wanted to see ten turtles by the end of the day and I found myself spending hours in the water simply enjoying myself (hello sunburn! In all seriousness though, I’m very embittered about this sunburn… it was totally our fault for not reapplying lotion and I won’t be making that mistake again in a hurry, I can tell you!) I watched one turtle swim from the ocean-bed up to the surface where he took a quick breath of air. It seemed funny to me that I didn’t want to go in the water for fear of drowning, and yet there are actually mammals who spend their whole lives in water. There’s a great metaphor there somewhere… I just haven’t figured out what it is yet.

At some point, I took a break from the waves and sat on the beach watching Bret swimming in the surf. I suddenly became very overwhelmed with pride for being able to overcome my fears of swimming in the sea, and of course for handling all the other crap from the past six months. If I hadn’t pushed myself, I would have never known the joy of seeing those turtles. It struck me that there was real power in my happiness. The delight I felt at watching these animals completely washed away my fears of drowning or of being attacked by some unseen creature. And I really can’t think of a greater parallel to living your life after a cancer diagnosis. There is so much fear that it is crippling at times, but it’s only when you focus on all the beauty that this world has to offer, that the fear begins to diminish.

Much love,

Emma xxx

*Just out of frame… small dog wondering why on earth I’m balancing a pizza on top of my head…

(I had no answer for him)