I didn’t cry until yesterday

by Jon Imondi  - April 2, 2024

❤️‍🩹 I didn’t cry until yesterday ❤️‍🩹

Reflections on Recovery Progress

It’s now been 3 weeks since I had major bowel surgery to remove Colin. I’m not sure if it’s gone quick or if it’s dragged. It often feels like I’m living in a bubble. Surreal. A bubble where cancer never existed and work was a distant memory. No bad thing at all 😅.

Sadly the truth is quite different and as “strong” as I try to be it’s quite the horror show. As I write this my body has recovered amazingly well since the surgery. My scars are healing and my mobility and energy levels are increasing. I still need lots of rest but everything is moving forward on the surface of things.

Facing Uncertainty

Sounds great, doesn’t it? I think I and many others fell into a false sense of security around cancer. I’ve had surgery, I’ve had my tumour removed so that’s it surely? I can recover and move on? Get back to “normality”?

The harsh reality hit me like a tonne of bricks the other day. I still don’t have my histology results. I still don’t know the staging or severity of what Colin has left behind, I still don’t know if chemo will be recommended, I still don’t know if I’ll take it 🤢.

The scariest thing (and most morbid) is I don’t know how long I have left! My belief is all will be well with my lifestyle changes and I’ll live to a healthy age. But at the moment, truthfully speaking and like so many things … I just don’t know ❤️‍🩹.

Emotional Release

I’ve spent the last several years working on myself and with others getting them to explore the thoughts, feelings and emotions that we feel the most shame and guilt around. The things that we are too afraid to explore or feel too vulnerable to “go there”.

We suppress so much and for the past few weeks my defenses have managed to suppress this shit show 💩. That’s great to get you through trauma but as I know so well it’s definitely NOT a long term strategy.

Yesterday, whilst eating a delicious chili the flood gates finally opened and the tears flowed (not quite into said chili 🌶️ ☺️).

Vicky (my partner) asked me “what are your tears for”? I couldn’t really answer her. But I knew the tears were relief, fear and hope. It was a release of the pain I’ve been through, the worry of my own mortality, the loss of control I felt I had over my life, the concern over going back to a career I dislike and the hope that everything will be OK ❤️‍🩹.

Navigating the Cancer Journey

Cancer is like nothing I’ve been through before. Overwhelming support. So many messages of “you’ve got this” and “stay strong” and “thinking of you”. People telling me “if there’s anything that you need …” Normal life simply stops overnight and you’re forced into a reality that you could never comprehend.

A rollercoaster that doesn’t stop and the only respite is the inevitable climb before it drops you back to earth at 10G. You’re surrounded by people who love you yet feel a loneliness that I can’t really describe 🧐.

At the moment it feels like any artificial positivity has left me and what remains is a much-needed grieving reality of what is. I’m still very much on this journey and a reminder of that is no bad thing.

Strength in Vulnerability

As always I’m writing this as much for myself as for anyone else who has the time to read it. It serves as a reminder to me and hopefully to you that vulnerability may feel scary at the time but there is also great strength in speaking our biggest fears, regrets, hopes and definitely our dreams ☺️.

I wish you all well and that 2023 (so far) is treating you well 🧡.

Big love, Jon ❤️

P.S. Screw the resolutions. WAY too much pressure 😄


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