Today I feel like a fraud

I feel like a bit of a fraud.

For almost two years I have been documenting my life with terminal cancer on my blog Dear Melanoma

I have prided myself in writing a blog that is heartbreakingly honest – you will definitely cry with me, but in-between I promise you will find yourself laughing. 

I have documented what it is like to plan a wedding when you are also planning your death, my fear of leaving a widow behind and my desire for my husband (Serge) to sit in the corner the rest of his life and mourn me (I joke… kind of), I have spoken about the hilarious things people have said to me, and the list goes on.

What I have probably become most known for is my realistic approach to dealing with terminal cancer and my ability to just keep on going.

I know I am going to die of melanoma and realistically I probably don’t have years left. I have never considered travelling the world to chase that miracle cure. I have never hoped for a cure. I hope for time. 

My approach has largely kept me sane and I have not thought it would change, or even falter. 

Today things are different. Today I feel like a fraud. I do not feel like the person I have been ‘selling’ to my beautiful and dedicated Dear Melanoma community.

Today I received my scan results and the news wasn’t great. There is no getting around the fact that I am slowly not responding to the treatment that has been keeping me alive for over two years now.

I found myself almost grovelling to my oncologist for more options. There was a new desperation. 

Don’t get me wrong, I have always been ‘desperate’ for more options, I don’t want to die. I am not ready to give up. But, I found peace in my ability to talk about death and the need (and also, the beauty) to be comfortable with this.

I feel the stoic person I have been portraying on my blog has disappeared a little. I have turned into the person chasing a miracle. I am scared of being this person because I know I don’t have many options left.

My biggest fear is that I will spend the last however long being angry at the world.

I don’t want to be asking ‘why me?’ 

Why at 22 years of age was I diagnosed with terminal cancer? 

Why can’t I have the opportunity to grow old with my husband?

Why can’t I have the family I have always dreamed of?

Why can’t I just be given time? I would be happy with just that. 

Today I miss the person that I have created or portrayed on my blog. I know she will come back. She will once again be accepting of the reality of terminal cancer, whether it is this year, five years down the track or 20.

This post originally appeared on Mamamia at