Why am I still alive?

Survivor's guilt. Imposter syndrome. Feeling like a fraud.

For the last 12-18 months I've been feeling like a fraud. Simply put, I shouldn't still be here. At every turn, I've beaten the odds and the most dire predictions and prognosis. I've got lucky and dodged just about every bullet. I just shouldn't still be here.

I've watched people diagnosed long after me, die long before me. And with every new funeral or memorial attended, the guilt grows exponentially. I feel like a fraud. I feel like somehow I've conned people by not dying.

I described it as conflicting emotions. I should be happy and relieved to still be alive, shouldn't I? Well - newsflash - a lot of the time, I absolutely am not. I find myself almost robotically saying to people "I'm still able to get round a golf course (in a buggy) and I can still have a beer or two with my friends once a week, so what do I have to complain about?"

Don't get me wrong - I really am happy and grateful and most of the time I mean it when I say it - but only most of the time. Sometimes I think I am just saying what I think people need/want to hear so they won't worry about me or feel sorry for me.

I do not want anyone to feel sorry for me. I do not want anyone's pity.

Let me deal with that last bit first. I deliberately put on my 'face armour' because I don't ever want anyone to feel sorry for me or do the whole "oh poor you" thing. It is cringingly uncomfortable for both parties. I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me or -even worse - pity me because it becomes all too easy to adopt the victim mentality from there. I've seen too many people beg for peoples' sympathy by exaggerating or playing up on their illness, in order to bolster their own self-worth or sate their need for attention. It sickens me.

And there's also a bit of pride, arrogance and 'dignity preservation' at play. No-one wants to be the weakling or the weak link.

I want to do something useful. I have repeatedly said that I write these blogs to get poisonous stuff out of my head for the sake of my own mental health, but if they help one single person, then I am overjoyed. But here's the rub (always a good day when I can force some Shakespeare into a blog!): When praise or nice comments arrive, I feel more and more like a fraud because I don't deserve them. I haven't done anything to earn them. I have organised a few fundraisers for MacMillan - some of them easy and some of them very hard. They raise a bit of money for MacMillan and all tolled, I think we're up to about £60K so far.

So bloody what? Big deal! I see people raising £60K in a single event! That Hardest Geezer guy raised a million pounds for running the length of Africa. My £60K is less than a drop in the ocean compared to what he has achieved. I am a sham, a sideshow hustler, pretending to do good deeds just to draw praise while others quietly accomplish truly outstanding and remarkable feats.

There are so many people I look up to and am inspired by. People who have faced down cancer or other appalling illnesses and still come back fighting. Sandra and Niki, Ryle, Heather, Fanny McPhee, Dave - too many to mention them all. They are all warriors and truly inspirational people that I look up to and admire. They are the true heroes. Beside them, I feel like a fraud. They've fought so hard, faced so much and are still out there fighting. The treatment I've been through is a breeze compared to theirs.

I suggested a bit earlier that I am not grateful to still be alive. The truth is, on many occasions, I am not. In fact, let's be truthful with each other here, I frequently feel quite resentful and bitter that I am still alive. There are times when the pain has been at its worst for 2-3 days straight, when I would give anything to be free from the agony - even if it meant dying.

Sleep-deprived and unable to find any position in which the pain is not like a million sharpened knitting needles poking into every bone in my body, I long for the relief that death would so compassionately bring.

There is a huge part of me that believes I will not die from leukaemia, but rather my heart will simply decide to give up, unwilling to fight the excessive pain any longer. I wouldn't blame it. No-one should have to go through this torture. If we are genuinely a compassionate society, we must take a more mature and intelligent stance on Dignity in Dying.

Talking about being a fraud and people craving attention, I'm sitting here thinking "people are just gonna think that I'm posting this in the hope that I get lots of responses saying nice and positive things about me". Well that couldn't be further from the truth. The more people say nice things about me, the more I feel like an absolute fraud. Other people deserve their praise and plaudits - I do not. I haven't done anything to deserve it.

The fact remains that despite each new complication and each new challenge, I am still here and that increases the feeling of being a fraud. I feel like I have conned people who expected me to be dead, or at least seriously compromised by my disease. But to the common observer, I don't look that much different. They can't see the scars (physical and emotional) so surely I can't be that ill, right? And I feel guilty about that.

I'm not saying that any of this makes any kind of logical sense. I'm just writing down what's going on in my head so my head doesn't explode.

So there it is. I don't know what all that adds up to, but at least I've got it out of my head. Now I need to go cut some grass or deadhead some flowers.

I used to finish these blogs with the phrase "Stay strong, fight hard, laugh lots" in order to exhort myself to be positive - but that no longer encapsulates how I feel. So I will simply say...

I wish you peace and serenity. Be kind to others - and yourself.

I'm saying that to me and you.