Tag Archives: Birthday

30

I am thirty years old. I have just turned thirty years old. It is no coincidence. Today, the 24 May, happens to be my birthday.

Great Stuff. Super. Cool..

I would prefer if it were not my birthday today. I would have said the same thing last year, but I will say it again, I no longer feel like celebrating my birth. Sure I like the cards, attention and presents but I have cancer to fill that void.* My birthday to me, represents not that I am getting older but that I am getting closer to my death. You might say that this is the same for everybody, for that is what ageing is. I think, the difference is that myeloma odds tell me, I have had more birthdays than I am still to experience and that is not something my peers can say. I do not feel like celebrating that.

. Don’t believe the stats, don’t believe the stats. Hypothetically, if I were to allow myself a brief period to fully embrace the stats, the birthday would be the time to do so. Along that line then, I have eight birthdays left. Eight whole birthdays. Add in a milestone birthday into this mix of negative thinking and what do you get?

I have experienced over three quarters of my life and I have a mere quarter of it left.

This of course, then begs the question about whether I wasted my first 30 years. I am sure it is normal to go through some sort of reflection, even if it is only to consider the cause of non-existent wrinkles when one turns 30. I have tried to go through the usual, getting older type of reflection, but the problem with reflection is that it leads to planning or some sort of hope, and I cannot do that long term.

I cannot buy a house, have a family, maintain a garden if I had a house and I am perpetually single. There are so many aspects of my life that on the face of it, makes me look like I have not grown up at all. Some of these things are not caused by My Myeloma, but they are not helped by it. Going forward, they will prove much harder or even impossible to get and that is because of myeloma. When I reflect, like I am today because I am forced into it by the date, I would say that I should have got myself these things when I was ‘healthy’. It is all one big cycle that I do not need to bore you with. Needless to say, it does not make me feel good about myself. It usually ends with me being jobless, single and living with my mother supported by the State, before I die prematurely because that is what myeloma does. It kills people as well as ruining their birthdays.

I have received many nice cards and in some, the sender has asked whether I can believe I am thirty in the way I put it in theirs. The answer to the question is a yes, I do believe I am 30 but I do not believe I will make it to 45.

And that is the 24 May.

Anticipating these fine thoughts, I decided the best thing to do was to invite myself to Berlin today. I can almost trick myself into thinking that that is what my day is about.

Happy Trip to Berlin Day. I’m going to the airport!

EJB x

* I think I need to be absolutely clear on this point. I may not enjoy the act of my birthday nor the reminder that it hammers to my forehead about my life being different now, but, the attention and messages one receives on their birthday are welcome.

It’s complicated and I am needy.

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Happy Birthday

It is my birthday. I am now a 29 year old with myeloma. This time last year, I was just a normal 28 year old. Normalish. Today, well, really tomorrow when I wake up, marks my first birthday with myeloma and this depresses me.

I have always been one who enjoys the birthday. A three day celebration that is all about me; what’s not to like? More people contact you than normal, you get post that is not a bill and if you are lucky, you may get some actual presents to open. Some people may not care about the birthdays, but I do. It’s My Day and I just absolutely, positively, love me. I am fabulous. I am awesome. I am great.

Your average person, after a certain age, may worry about getting older on their birthday, look back on what they have and haven’t achieved, and review what they have and haven’t got and come up wanting. I hear this makes people feel blue, so they get drunk. I don’t really feel like that is a concern for me anymore. Life as a 28 year old changed that.

Last autumn, I looked ahead at this birthday and saw it as a target date. A date by which time, this chapter would be over. I have known for a while that this would not be the case, but that has not prevented me from thinking about it a teeny, teeny, little bit, as my birth date drew closer. I am not where I thought I would be, where I want to be, and my birthday is a reminder of that.

I am now 29. I would imagine most people hitting 29 would be worried about reaching 30. Not me, I just keep thinking, how many more of these have I got? Not as many as I thought when I turned 28, and that is the sad truth. This is not where I thought I would be, not where I want to be, and my birthday is a horrible reminder of that.

Of course, I know all of this everyday, just because it is the 24 May doesn’t mean I have had an epiphany. No way. Today is just a big fat reminder about it all; the passing of time and preciousness of the time left.

Happy Birthday!

All that said, it would be absolutely inconceivable for me to spend my birthday wallowing in self pity. I will not let My Myeloma ruin My Day. I am stronger than that, at least, I hope I am. So, no more self pity today. When I awake, I have a busy day ahead of me, celebrating my birth, as I have done every year before this one. I will see people and I will smile. I have been very clear with myself that this must happen and I have designed the good times so that I do not have time to entertain the bad thoughts. If my celebrations happen to roll into the bank holiday weekend, which they will, then so be it. My birthday is pretty much the definition of organised fun and I am forcing myself to have fun. My logic behind this is simple really, if my future birthdays are numbered, I’d be better off having fun during them than the alternative. No matter how bittersweet I may find it. It makes perfect sense. It should do mind you, for I am now, officially, older and wiser. Just look at my birth certificate.

EJB x

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Happy 30th Birthday, Big Sister

This is a belated message, which should have been posted yesterday, but IT issues prevented that treat. I apologise.

Today is my Big Sister’s 30th Birthday. So, in celebration of that, I thought I would let you know just how great a Big Sister she is.

We are opposites. Big Sister is small and I am big. Big Sister is married with a house and I am not. Big Sister does not appreciate some of my fashion choices. I am not going to lie to you, we have not always got on. She once convinced me to stick a bead up my nose and I had to go to hospital to have it removed. If memory serves, it wasn’t actually up my nostril by the time we got to the hospital, but she made me do it. Another time, she hit me across the back with a tennis racket. She wouldn’t do that now, for I have multiple lyctic lesions in my spine.

Right now, and I should not have expected anything less, she is proving herself to be the Best Big Sister Ever on my Official Best Sister Scale. I couldn’t get up everyday without her. Not only is she a stem cell match to me, and this fact will probably end up saving my life, but she excels on the little stuff as well. Big Sister calls me everyday and is constantly checking that me, her Little Sister, is coping with MM. She makes my days better. This will include listening to me cry, making me eat, making me get out of bed and/or just listening to me talk shite (I really don’t have that much to talk about). She really does make everyday just that little bit easier. As does her offspring and for those two little beasts, I am truly thankful to her. I get to be an Auntie. A sick one at the moment, but an Auntie all the same. I suppose she gave me a decent Brother-in-Law too. Further down the line, I know Big Sister will do all she humanly can to facilitate me becoming a Mummy. That is sisterly love.

She may be small and a grown up now, but I am pretty sure that the old rule still applies that she is the only person allowed to be mean to me… Not that she is, but what I am saying is, try not to upset me; I’m pretty sure she’ll try and sort you out. You have been warned.

I am very lucky. She is too, obviously. There is no modesty here. Let’s throw in another, my parents are very lucky.

So, Happy 30th Birthday Kirsty. Below are a few snapshots of our time together (and some potential re growth hairstyles). Enjoy.

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