A dedication to my husband. Serge...

The 31^st October is a special time for Serge and I, not because it is Halloween, but because it marks a year since we got engaged.

Tonight I want to dedicate this blog to what an amazing man my husband is – the sacrifices he has made for our love and all the joy that he brings to my life.

As a very wise woman (Rebecca Sparrow) said to me, not everyone is lucky enough to find a Great Love in his or her lifetime. Although my lifetime may be short, I am so very lucky that Serge arrived when I needed him most.

Hope in death...

In January, I was sitting down with a palliative care team discussing how I wanted to die. I did not ask about what I could expect. I didn’t ask about the pain I would feel. I did not ask about how I will lose my independence. I already knew what to expect from my last months or weeks of my life.

Instead, I told the palliative care team what I wanted. I told them how I wanted to die. I wanted to die in my family home. I did not want to spend my last days in a hospital. I wanted to die in the bed I share with my husband. I did not want to be forced into a single hospital bed away from my husband.

I know that my last weeks aren’t going to be nice and I am either going to be in pain or out to it on painkillers, but all I can wish for is an ounce of control. Control that cancer would slowly take away from me.

Exciting additions to my 'quasi-bucket list'...

For those of you that follow me on my Dear Melanoma Facebook Page, you would know that I have been in a bit of a slump. I have been travelling along Struggle Street for the last few weeks. I have been sad, moody, irritable, and most of all, I have been lost… Poor Serge probably needs a man date after what I have given him the last few weeks!

I have been struggling with finding purpose in despair. I feel like I am living a life in limbo… and I am still not good at the limbo! Do I continue living life like I only have months to live OR do I go back to what my plans were prior to cancer (study, work, etc.)?

15 things NOT to say to someone with cancer

Over the last 12 months my personal Facebook has gone off. I feel like I am the new cool kid on the block. I have had an influx of friend requests from people that I have not seen for 20 years (take note that I am only 23!). Friend requests from friends of friends. Friend requests from my sister’s friend’s sister. And friend requests from complete strangers. I apologise now for deleting 90% of these requests.

As you can guess, I haven’t been short of people offering love and support to me over the last 12 months. I have the most amazing family and friends who have been with me every moment of the journey. But unfortunately, I have lost some friends along the way and shed many tears over what some people consider being supportive.

My advice for Stage 1 Melanoma patients (and anyone else that wants to listen!)

Since writing this blog, I have had many people contact me sharing their story and asking advice. The majority of the people that write to me are Stage 1 melanoma patients, so I have decided to write this post for them. For those of you that don't have Stage 1 melanoma, I hope you still find it useful... and a little entertaining!

Here is my advice for you!

1. Three monthly skin checks

Annual skin checks are recommended for the general population, but once you have been diagnosed with Stage 1 Melanoma this changes. You are strongly recommended to have 3 monthly skin checks for at least 2 years. It is only when you have not had a recurrence that your 3 monthly skin checks can return to 12 monthly.

Three monthly skin checks will aid in early detection and ensure you remain at Stage 1.

Navigating life in East Timor

This week marks a year since leaving East Timor. To celebrate this, I am going to write without mentioning melanoma (phew! no tears!). And to be honest, although the majority of my time spent in East Timor was spent as a Stage 1 melanoma patient, little time was spent thinking about melanoma. I followed the rules of returning to Australia for frequent skin checks and would always slip, slop and slap. I was a patient with a 95% chance of survival. There was only a 5% chance that this cancer would spread. Nothing to waste precious time worrying about!

I left for East Timor at the end of July 2012. I had just finished university, graduating from a Bachelor of Arts in International Relations and Peace and Conflict Studies, and I had no idea what I wanted to do with my future. So like many young people, I was tossing up between travelling and studying more… anything that meant I did not have to enter the grown up world of a 9 to 5 job. I decided that I would seek out the opportunity to travel and volunteer in East Timor for 3 months, leaving the opportunity open for me to begin study the following December. I ended up continuing for 12 months and putting post-graduate study off for another 12 months.

My fear of leaving a widow behind...

As many people would know I have a slight (raging) obsession for the show Offspring (Yes, I had to make sure that you didn’t think I was talking about the band)!

One of the hardest part of living in East Timor was missing out on watching Offspring. East Timor failed me on two levels. Firstly, I couldn’t rely on the local, not so legal, DVD shop to be up-to-date with the most recent episodes. And, secondly, my internet connection couldn’t refresh Facebook, let alone watch TV online. So, what does a girl do…I would rely on my trusty mother to record all the episodes and I would have an Offspring marathon when I came home for a holiday (skin checks) every three months. She is a good woman!