Author: samcgillivray

They say life is what happens when you’re making plans.

That couldn’t be more true in my case.

Since retiring, I’ve spent a lot of time planning the year ahead -especially around travel. I even had my next blog post written. I’d decided to move it to Facebook just for the safari, as I hadn’t had time to work out WordPress before we left.

But I didn’t get to post it. I had a doctor’s appointment.

That appointment changed everything.

I had found a lump under my arm and had briefly wondered about breast cancer, but I’d had a mammogram just five months earlier and it had been clear. I wasn’t surprised when my doctor sent me for a scan, and I decided to hold off on posting the blog – it was such a good one too! 🙂

After several scans and a biopsy, the results came back: metastatic melanoma. While I knew it wasn’t good, it took a while to really sink in that this was going to change my plans.

I am someone who tends to “hibernate” when I have something to absorb or process, so that’s what I did. I just didn’t want to “people.”

One of the hardest things was telling the boys. They had already lost their dad to leukaemia, and telling them their mother had melanoma was not easy.

Ian, as always, stepped in and took charge—organising things, taking me to appointments, making sure everything was happening as it should. Brendan is very much like me and withdraws when he needs to process things quietly. Lachlan is the opposite – he needs to talk everything through, and then talk about it again.

We all cope in our own ways.

On the day I was supposed to be flying to Singapore, Ian and I went to Westmead for my first appointment with the oncologist. My GP had suggested him, even though it meant travelling a bit further, and I’m very glad she did. I feel comfortable with the team and confident in the care I’m receiving. They did offer the option of transferring to the local hospital, but I’ve chosen to stay where I am.

We came away from that appointment feeling more positive. I won’t be having chemotherapy – which was a big fear after watching John go through it. Instead, immunotherapy has proven to be more effective for melanoma. We talked about my travel plans, among many other things, and at this stage, there is no reason I shouldn’t still be able to travel later this year – possibly even as early as August, as originally planned.

Since then, I’ve had two rounds of immunotherapy (via IV), three weeks apart. I’ve also met with the surgeon, as I will almost certainly need surgery to remove up to three “layers” of lymph nodes.

That was the first time I cried.

I had known surgery was a possibility, but in my mind it was something relatively minor – an overnight stay, maybe a couple of nights. After meeting with the surgeon, it was clear it would be a 5–6 hour operation, followed by 5+ weeks with a drain and the need to wear compression garments. For some reason, that upset me more than the diagnosis itself.

Next week brings more blood tests and another PET scan. The following Monday I see the oncologist again, and Tuesday the surgeon, so I should know more then.

So why am I back writing this blog, when it was originally meant to be a travel blog?

It seems the title proved to be more apt than I realised and while, eventually, it will still include my travel, I have decided to document the other journeys and directions my life has taken.

I am a writer – if I have something on my mind, I need to get it out of my head to help process it, and I do that by writing it down – often in the middle of the night.

So a small warning – this is how I write. There’s no artifice here. What you see is what you’ll get. At times it may be more than you expected, but it will always be honest. This is me, just as I am.

This is, in part, cathartic for me. But there is also a part of me that doesn’t want to quietly disappear. Since retiring, and for many reasons, I’ve felt a lack of connection with people, and I’m finding that a little challenging.

I also hope that, in some small way, this might help someone else – whether they are going through something similar themselves, or supporting someone who is. When John was diagnosed and going through treatment, I would have really valued hearing from someone who understood. In many ways, that was how my (still unfinished) book began – but that’s another story.

Until next time, enjoy your story—wherever it takes you.