My first trip since surgery.

I was so excited, although I was obviously nervous too.

I was only just becoming comfortable with my new routine, and I really wasn’t sure how travelling with two ostomies would work – especially when it came to knowing how many supplies I would need.

We were going away for almost four weeks, so I researched every travel tip I could find.

I wasn’t sure how I would manage a long-haul flight. I wanted to stay hydrated, but I was worried about Ursula becoming too full.

What if there was turbulence and I couldn’t get up to empty her?

I had so many questions.

I decided it would be better to be overprepared than underprepared. Luckily, there were four of us travelling, which meant we had enough luggage and carry-on allowance for me to spread some of my supplies between everyone’s bags.

For the flight, I packed a change of clothes and enough ostomy products to cover my usual changes, as well as a few extras in case of any little whoopsies.

I had a small crossbody backpack that would fit underneath the seat in front of me. I packed my ostomy supplies in there and placed my change of clothes in the overhead compartment.

That way, if I needed to change either of my bags, everything I needed would be within reach without having to search through the rest of the luggage.

I also researched leg bags. I ordered a few different lengths before the trip so I could trial them ahead of time, and eventually found one that worked really well for me.

I found a website that sold luggage tags marked Medical Supplies – Fragile, so I ordered those for my bags too. I even researched where I could buy replacement products while we were away, just in case I unexpectedly ran out or something happened to my supplies.

My stoma nurse also signed a travel card confirming that I had ostomies. It explained that if I needed to be patted down or have my bags examined at security, I would need this to be done privately.

By the time I finished packing, I had enough supplies for the four weeks and then plenty of extras.

After months of researching, preparing and thinking through every possible scenario, the day had finally arrived.

We were off to New York City.

I love that city, and I couldn’t wait to get there and celebrate the life I had been given.

I’d been worried about going through airport security, but the staff were so kind and understanding. They even asked how I was recovering.

The flight itself was fairly uneventful.

Before boarding, I attached my leg bag using the holder, but I left the valve from my urostomy bag closed. I thought I would wait until we were settled on the plane before I opened it, just in case all the movement caused something to come loose.

Once we were in our seats, I was still a little nervous about leaving the valve open continuously.

I was sitting on the inside beside my family and wasn’t very visible to the other passengers, so throughout the flight I would discreetly open the valve, wait for Ursula to empty into the leg bag and then close it again.

Every three hours or so, I went to the bathroom and emptied the leg bag.

It was actually a pretty good system, although probably not one I would use if I were travelling alone or sitting in an aisle seat.

If someone is visibly putting their hands down their pants throughout a flight – even underneath a blanket – it can become quite obvious and perhaps slightly concerning to the other passengers! 😂

If I were travelling on my own, or if it were just my sister and me, I think I would just need to trust that everything was connected securely and leave the valve open.

I’d always been a nervous flyer, but after everything I had been through and because my faith in God had grown so much, I felt surprisingly relaxed.

In fact, I had the best sleep I have ever had on a flight to the United States.

I remember waking in the morning and listening to worship music. Once again, I felt completely overwhelmed with gratitude towards the God who had seen me through everything and made it possible for me to travel.

Before my surgery, I’d asked Jon how long he thought it would take me to recover because I wanted to plan a trip afterwards.

He explained that it depended on the patient, whether there were complications and how recovery progressed.

So, to be sitting on that long-haul flight just over one year after surgery felt like such a gift.

Later that morning, when the flight attendant asked whether I’d like tea, coffee or juice, I thought:

You know what? Nope.

I would like a mimosa, please.

I was on holiday, after all.

Finally, after a few delays, we arrived in New York City.

I was elated.

New York in December is absolute magic.

We went to piano bars, wandered through Christmas markets, took in a Broadway show and celebrated my mum’s birthday at an amazing restaurant at Rockefeller Center.

We were also unexpectedly invited to a staff viewing of the Christmas tree, which felt like such a special little blessing.

Before the trip, I hadn’t been sure how I would manage the girls while we were out and about.

In the end, I used the bathroom at every venue that had one and emptied Ursula, regardless of how full her bag was. It meant I never had to worry about urgently finding a bathroom later or having an unexpected leak.

After five wonderful days of walking, eating delicious food and enjoying the city, it was time to travel to Washington, D.C., where we would spend Christmas.

We caught the train from New York.

I’ve always loved train travel, and the journey wasn’t particularly long, so I had been looking forward to it.

Unfortunately, it probably wasn’t my favourite travel experience.

The seats were comfortable.

The toilets, however…

The less said about those, the better.

All I will say is that I thanked God profusely that I didn’tneed to sit on one!

We spent Christmas in Washington surrounded by family, and it was honestly so special.

On Christmas Eve, we were opening presents when it came to my turn. As I sat there, I thought:

Something doesn’t feel quite right.

I went to the bathroom to check, and Collette’s baseplate had come loose.

I knew I needed to return to the Airbnb and change her, but I was also drinking a glass of wine and having such a good time.

My sister looked at me as though I had completely lost my mind.

“Wait – shouldn’t we go?”

She couldn’t understand why I wasn’t in more of a hurry.

To be honest, neither could I.

I think I just really wanted to finish my wine.

Eventually, we were dropped back at the Airbnb. The evening was almost over by then anyway, so we stayed there and had a good laugh about what had happened and, particularly, my very relaxed reaction to it.

A few days later, it was time for our next stop: Boston.

It meant another train journey, but this time we splurged and upgraded to first class. It was a much longer trip, so the upgrade was absolutely worth it.

Once again, it was so special to spend time with family.

We weren’t able to see one of my aunts, and I was genuinely touched when I heard how disappointed she was that she had missed us.

Another aunt and my cousin drove through a heavy snow just to come and see me.

I found myself constantly noticing things I might once have taken for granted.

An aunt driving through dangerous weather to see me.

My cousin arranging an emergency passport when he realised his had expired, just so he could come and see me.

Another aunt feeling sad that we’d missed the chance to see each other.

The joy of sitting together again.

Those moments reminded me of how much love had always surrounded me. It had been there all along, but I don’t think I had fully understood how precious it was.

I do now.

Eventually, it was time to come home.

We landed safely and returned to ordinary life, but I didn’t return as quite the same person.

The trip had shown me that I could still travel, explore, laugh, celebrate and experience new things with my girls.

It had also reminded me how fortunate I was to be surrounded by people who loved me.

Time passes so quickly.

Not long after we returned, my church began talking about a leadership course.

It was a year-long commitment, but it was part-time, and I felt a quiet nudge to enrol.

So my mum and I signed up together.

I was looking forward to learning more, going deeper in my faith and understanding God in a way that went beyond everything I had experienced during cancer.

Then, before long, it was time for my second-year scans.

The year before, I hadn’t felt quite as nervous.

This time, however, I was frightened.

I knew I could trust God.

I knew I could place everything at His feet.

But I was still worried.

I reached out to our ministry team for prayer and continued going to them after church whenever I felt I needed more. I also asked my small group to pray for me.

My MRI came first.

It was clear.

I could breathe again – at least for a moment.

Then came the CT scan.

The colorectal team confirmed that there was no sign of recurrence, but the scan had shown some dilation near one of my kidneys.

I didn’t know what that meant.

Jon reassured me that everything looked fine from their perspective, but he was also honest that this wasn’t their area of expertise.

My case had been discussed at the multidisciplinary meeting, and everyone agreed that the best next step was to refer me to a urologist.

I would love to say that I wasn’t nervous.

I was.

But beneath that fear, there was also enormous relief.

Whatever this new finding meant, they could already tell me one thing:

The cancer hadn’t returned.

While all of this was happening, our cat had also started becoming unwell.

We took him to the vet and discovered that he had advanced cancer. Because of how advanced it was, the focus would be on his comfort and quality of life. We would need to watch him closely and eventually make the difficult decision when we could see that he was no longer enjoying his life.

I prayed to God, and then I made the decision to simply enjoy every moment I still had with him.

For every extra day, every cuddle and every moment, I thanked God.

My grandmother also passed away around that time.

She had Parkinson’s and had not been well for a while, so although there was comfort in knowing she was no longer suffering, it was still incredibly sad.

She was the person I ran to when I arrived home.

She taught me how to cook and how to make tea and coffee.

She made me laugh, and she loved me deeply, regardless of what I did or said.

With so much happening around me, there was a tiny part of my mind that began to wonder whether the finding near my kidneys could mean something more.

Not because I believed God was punishing me or sending me some kind of warning, but because fear can make our minds connect things that aren’t connected.

Grief and scan anxiety – or scanxiety as Nicole and I call it – had left me feeling vulnerable, and for a moment, my thoughts returned to the worst possible outcome.

Eventually, I had my appointment with the urologist.

He had compared my latest scans with the ones from the previous year and said everything looked the same.

My kidneys looked healthy.

Everything was flowing as it should.

He couldn’t see any reason for concern.

Once again, I could breathe.

Those months contained so much.

There was the joy of travelling again and experiencing a city I loved.

There was laughter, family, Christmas and even a mimosa at thirty thousand feet.

There was the decision to begin a course that would help me go deeper in my faith.

There was also scan anxiety, uncertainty, the sadness of watching our cat become unwell and the grief of losing someone who had loved me for my entire life.

Faith didn’t stop me from feeling afraid or sad.

It didn’t mean that I never worried or that I understood why everything was happening.

It meant that through each moment – whether I was celebrating in New York, waiting for scan results, grieving my grandmother or thanking God for another day with our cat – I knew I wasn’t facing it alone.

Before the trip, I’d wondered whether I would still be able to travel with my girls.

I came home knowing that I could.

Then, when the next uncertainty arrived, I was reminded of something else.

Trusting God doesn’t always mean that fear disappears.

Sometimes it means placing what we cannot control into His hands, even while part of us is still frightened.

The girls came with me.

Fear came too.

But so did joy, laughter, family, love and an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the life I had been given.

This life may not look the way I once imagined it would.

But it is still full.

It is still precious.

And, by the grace of God, I’m still here to live it.