Dyslexia Vs Cancer? Which one has been the bigger blight on my life?

 I had a curious thought this week. Which has cast a bigger shadow over my life, dyslexia or cancer? Both have loomed large in my life and shaped me in some way. But if I could have changed one, which would it be? 

In the red corner, we have dyslexia. By the time I knew I was dyslexic, I'd largely mitigated the effects. When it most plagued me, I simply thought I was thick. Well to be honest, I didn't think I was thick, but all my teachers did. They would constantly tell me this. At St Vincents, my parents came up for parents evening. We had a weekly spelling test and if you got all ten words correct you got a star. Whilst all my friends had plenty, I had none at all. My teachers told my parents I was 'lazy and thick'. When I went to Finchley Catholic High School, if I got a C in a subject I viewed it as most people view an A. At the end of the third year, we got to choose our 'O level and CSE subjects'. I was encouraged to choose building studies, which was for 'non academic pupils'. I jumped at this, as it meant I got half a day a week out of school, at the Curriculum centre in Barnet. I studied decoration and design for two years. It was the most useful thing I learned at school.  Oddly, when I reached the age of fourteen, my brain started to process information properly. I switched to Orange Hill School, and ended up passing nine O levels and two A levels, albeit scraping in just over the line. When I left school, I moved to Stockholm, returning to become a painter and decorator, whilst persuing my punk rock career. I never had any expectations of getting a proper job. To my amazement, in 1983, I managed to get on a TOPS course and get a job in IT. When I told my parents, my Dad's comment was "how did you manage that?". He was genuinely surprised. My new work colleagues were unaware of the baggage I carried, although some were a bit snooty about my lack of a degree. After a while, when they realised I could do the job, they seemed less bothered. By the time I was 33, my parents had concluded I was a 'late developer'. 

When my wife became pregnant, I decided to address an issue that I felt needed dealing with, if I was to be a good parent. I signed up for some anger management counselling. As we explored my issues, the therapist asked if I was dyslexic. I said that I didn't think so. They suggested I was assessed. To me horror, I was told I was. When I discussed this with my therapist, things fell into place. The roots of my deep rooted anger was that I had not been stupid and I knew it, but people had treated me as such all through my youth. My defence mechanism was anger and bad behaviour. I felt I'd not been given a fair chance and felt a burning sense of injustice. My response was, quite often, self destructive. The biggest victim was my self confidence. I was lucky. When I discovered punk rock music all of that changed, but it is clear to me that I've was massively held back. In truth, I was capable enough to adapt and probably ended up having a better life than if I'd had a normal brain function. I may even have been an arrogant, obnoxious twat with little empathy for the people in society getting a kicking. But who knows, all I know is that from the age of four to fifteen, school was a nightmare, to the extent that I ended up on valium for anxiety under a child psychologist who missed the fact that I was dyslexic. Worst of all for me, people who are not dyslexic simply don't get it. I hear parents of dyslexic kids say the most stupid things. I have learned to bite my tongue, but I see miserable kids and that upsets me. 

In the yellow corner, we have cancer. It has taken two bites at me. One, when I was seven and my mum was diagnosed with stomach cancer and given three years to live ( I didn't know the extent at the time). I had to see my Dad crack up, my mum with tubes and pipes in her and suffer old ladies at church saying "Poor little mite". Then there was my cousin telling me I was off to the orphanage. To everyone's surprise (except my mum), she recovered but it was a terrible period. I think I suffered a degree of PTSD seeing what she endured. It is a dark period that I feel is hard to process. We didn't talk about it. For decades I resented the fact that my parents told my older sister Caroline (who was eleven) what was going on, but excluded me. When I wrote this in a blog, she told me they hadn't, she was in the dark as well. She had the same feelings. Mum got better and I locked all of the feelings in a cupboard in my mind. In 2011, I was diagnosed with prostate cancer. I've detailed this in my cancer blog series. Here I am, sixty two years old. Liberated from my cancerous prostate last year, but a year in, still feeling to some extent the sword of damacles hangs over me.  I was spared the worst of it. I am continent. I can't have kids anymore, but three is probably enough. I've got some degree of sexual function, far better than I feared, but not what I was and only really possible with tablets most of the time. 

But worst of all, I have spent too much time thinking about it. I realise I was selfish and pretty angry a lot of the time when dealing with the issues. I regret that. Despite working on it, I still get irritable too easily and snap aat people when stressed. I am lucky that I have forgiving people around me. The truth is that it has cast a cloud. four times a year I have PSA tests and as each approaches, I get anxious. Now I recognise some people have situations that are a million times worse, but I can only really document my life.

Which brings me to the question I have. Which of these two issues has been the bigger blight? I have to say that, from where I stand now, I believe that dyslexia wins hands down. Whilst cancer is horrible and I wouldn't wish it one anyone, it never made me feel bad about myself, question myself or be racked with self doubt. It didn't affect the way people treated me and no one ever ridiculed me for it, when I was at a low point. The physical side of cancer is of course far more probelematical, but I never ended up in psychotherapy as a result. 

So what am I saying? Well when it comes down to it, because cancer is a physical thing, people can understand it. With dyslexia, you are pretty much on your own if you have no dyslexic peers. Your parents will not get what you are going through and their 'encouragement' will often have the opposite effect. Over the years, I've learned to read the signs and can spot someone who is dyselexic (or with similar issues) purely by where they stand in a crowded room. I've trained myelf to appear confident, singing in a band helps, but my natural inclination is to hide in crowds. What I am trying to say is that, as far as I am concerned, dyslexia isn't nothing, it is a massive thing. To me, in my case, its worse than having prostate cancer, and I am not saying that lightly or glibly.