Ever ask yourself “what’s the matter with me?” I’m sat here in Leytonstone, having just done the school run, looking at a man steal food left by strangers for another man who is fast asleep beside an Argos. I am feeling anxious and miserable. But why?

This week marks the 10th anniversary of my last chemo. I know, it doesn’t make any sense. It should be a time of celebration. I’m alive, healthy, have a lovely home, loving wife and two gorgeous kids but…

I feel like shit.

All the darkness of six months not knowing whether I will live or die have come back and it hurts. This may well be a bit deep for those who are used to me being happy clappy and all that. Maybe you should stop reading now 😂. I am not sure whether it’s because I am a control freak or whatever but…. To make it worse I have convinced my drive team to allow me to do a different aspect of cancer every day this week.

10 years ago I blogged my experience you can find it here www.bbc.co.uk/london/content/articles/2007/05/22/eddie_nestor_column_feature.shtml , I knew many people had it and kept it secret. That is their right. I also knew people who needed to talk and share. I wanted them to do that.

I remember I promised God that if I survived, I would do something for charity every year. I hope climbing Kilimanjaro, jumping from a plane, running the London marathon, getting a six pack and in 2018 doing Tough Mudder will mean I’ve kept my part of the bargain.

I always thought (if I got here) this week was going to be a celebration. Didn’t know the pain was still going to be there. So if you know someone whose had cancer don’t ignore it or treat them like a pariah. It will impact 1 in 2 people. Talking about it may help save someone’s life. The earlier its diagnosed, the better your chance of survival and that’s great. Just wish that’s how I felt.

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One thought on “Cancerversary

  1. Eddie,
    Ten years for me too. Bladder cancer was my demon. Boy was I angry at the bum deal I’d been dealt. As if breaking my back in a horrific car crash with a drunken moron and ending up a paraplegic at the age of 18 wasn’t bad enough. Facing life in a wheelchair at the age of 18 is a hard pill to swallow, believe me. Oh and my husband dying when I was 28, leaving me to bring up two tiny children on my own. That was pretty tough too. Still 33 years on my children and I are dealing with that one.

    Then bang, in 2007, I only go and get diagnosed with cancer. OK, so I’d well exceeded the twenty year life expectancy they gave me after my accident (I’m 44 years post accident and still going), surely cancer wasn’t going to get me.
    Who’d run my little company I’d built up, who’d feed my dog? Hell, who’d love my grown up children?
    Well, it’d just have to be me I decided, so here I am, just like you, ten years on.

    Haven’t climbed Kilimanjaro, haven’t wheeled a marathon, haven’t jumped from a plane.
    I’ve flown a glider, started a company and taken it from my kitchen sink to High Street stores, photographed Bruce Springsteen and Neil Young, been a Listed Londoner on Robert’s show (not sure how I winged that one). Oh and supported the most amazing little known charity Flying Seagull Project.
    Oh and damn it, abused by Jimmy Savile. Fuck him, he wasn’t going to define me, hell no.

    Been listened to the shows this week; Daisy stopped me in my tracks (literally, physically or metaphorically – I’m not quite sure which). What an extraordinary child. Puts my whingeing to shame. And Daisy’s mum today. Just wow, What a privilege for you to talk to Daisy and meet her mum.
    This better bloody end well. It just better end well.

    Look Eddie, I’ll stop rambling on; I only came to comment that the link in your post isn’t working and ask you if you can point me to the right link, as I’d like to read your post from ten years ago.

    So you and me, still here, ten years on. Good eh!
    Being a photographer I see things. I see light, I see faces, I see details. Yesterday I saw this on a tatty card in a photographers studio window in the back streets of Enfield.

    ‘A negative mind will not give you a positive life’

    Ten words. One for each of the years we’ve had since cancer interrupted our lives.

    Cheers,
    Amanda

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