I commented to a friend earlier on today that if she could define 'normal' (in relation to what doesn't matter for this purpose) she was a better man than I am Gunga Din (with apologies to Kipling). After all one man's normal can be another man's bizarre.
Heather's comment on the last posting made me think. When I started this blog it was with the intention of keeping my thoughts on my cancer completely separate from the everyday life of my other blogs: Eagleton Notes and A Hebridean in New Zealand. After all at the moment I am exceptionally lucky. My life goes on as though nothing had happened and therefore I can call it normal.
When I was diagnosed with cancer in 1997 I was fortunate enough to have been operated on successfully - up to a point. I was told that it was more than likely that cells had escaped from the site of the original cancer. Every now and then they have started to increase but treatment has pushed the count down again with very little in the way of serious side effects for me. So to me 'normal' is the absence of pain and an ability to do the things I could do before the cancer was operated upon. After all many people without cancer (including my treasured brother) suffer pain and physical difficulties every day of their lives.
However I cannot pretend that on occasion (and no doubt this feeling will increase with time) I do not feel normal when I am told that the cancer has returned. Hence this blog.