Late Octoberish – in the Barracks

After a few days in hospital this is where my memory gets a bit hazy. There were days where I wasn’t sure what was going on or what had been said to me due to a mixture of drugs and just generally being unwell. On one particular occasion I remember being led in the bed with three doctors talking to me. I felt as though I was underwater in a gold fish bowl, I could hear the words being said but it wasn’t registering in my head (I think the kids seem to suffer from this whilst glued to the television). Another occasion I accidentally tried to swallow an orange foam ear plug thinking it was one of the tablets I had to take. In my defence there were quite a few, all in varying in colour and size. The chewiness sort of gave it away in the end. I’m not quite sure what the medical term is for this haziness state but I think my friend summed it up quite well recently when she said “well you were off your tits.”

I had been on a mixed bay ward for a couple of days and had sort of ‘settled in’. I say ‘settled in’ the sense I knew where my bed was and had managed to acquire a fan and I was all too familiar of where the toilet was. I didn’t want to be settled though. I just wanted to be home with my family and I was getting slightly aggravated by some of my ‘roomies’. When I think back this is sort of how I know I wasn’t that poorly, as a few days later I was completely oblivious to any of this. All their little quirks (which I’ve mentioned before we all have) later seemed irrelevant or unnoticeable. A week or so later I came to empathise with their pain, requests for help and grateful for their company either direct or indirect.

It’s safe to say there was a mixed bag of people on my ward needing varying degrees of care. What I couldn’t get my head round at first was the number of patients who weren’t actually oncology (cancer) patients and had been put on the ward due to the lack of beds in the hospital. Some were just merely there as a stop gap until outside care had been arranged or even just signed off. From what I witnessed in some instances I honestly don’t think hospital really was the right place for them, they needed specialist care. It’s quite upsetting to think what will happen in the future as the population grows when you see what a strain the NHS is put under. They were patients though and like everyone else the nurses and doctors were doing their best to ultimately get them better and hopefully ‘home’ or at least to provide them with pain relief and care.

One of my roomies in the far corner of the room was constantly cold and unfortunately, I was the complete opposite having serious temperature spikes. When this happens, your body starts to shake uncontrollably and you feel extremely cold. The only way to stop the shaking is to try and bring your temperature down, which involves stripping the covers off, cold flannel compress to the head and switching the fan on full pelt. This poor lady in the far corner must have felt like she was standing outside a plane jet at a UK airport in the pouring down rain after spending a few weeks in a hot sunny destination. I did feel guilty but at the same time the nurses are trying make sure you’re ok as well.

There was another lady next to me who was quite elderly when I first got in she often kept me awake with her moaning and groaning. I got slightly frustrated with this until I later realised, she couldn’t talk very much and I think she may have had Parkinson’s disease. One day I helped her and took an instant shine to her. From then on, I made it part of my daily routine to go and see ‘Nancy’ even if it was just to say ‘hello’. It gave me a purpose and felt good to feel like I was helping someone else. I think the feeling was mutual as well as every time I popped in her little face would light up.

Being Transferred to the Penthouse suite

My temperature spikes didn’t seem to fade nor did my relationship with the bathroom. I was stacking up the cardboard cowboy hats for fun. See one of the main things that they try to keep a track of in hospital is the amount of fluid going in and out of your body. The only way they can do this is by you keeping a track of how many jugs of water you’ve had and by measuring the amount of fluid going out. This unfortunately means loosing any dignity and weeing in a cardboard cowboy hat (urine sample) and signing you name and the time on it with a pen so that it can go in the slush machine to be measured.

This is fine when things are ok but when your ‘off your tits’ so to speak this task became increasingly difficult. After mustering the effort to drag myself up out of bed along with my new friend the IV drip whom I had  just managed to unplug and miraculously squeeze into the bathroom with, marginally escaping yanking a canular out of my hand or setting some alarm off. Signing and dating a cowboy hat full of urine that you had just spilt half of said contents on the floor was nothing short of a miracle not to mention that most times I would have forgotten to bring the bloody pen that was now left at the side of my bed.

I’m not sure if it was the volume of cardboard contents I had left about or the number of times I had been to the toilet but I was finally transferred to a side room further down the ward. It was thought I may have had some possible infection. See one of the common side effects of the immunotherapy drugs was colitis which can be caused by infection and can also be quite serious. The last thing you want on a hospital ward would be a breakout of diarrhoea so I was sent to a side ward which after my previous surroundings felt like the Penthouse suite.

Relocation relocation

I was wheeled down to my own side ward, it was great I had room for a chair next to my bed, my own shower, toilet, clock and window view. I was excited of the prospect of getting settled and more importantly a decent night’s sleep away from everyone. With all the excitement in the move I’d failed to mention my recent bed transfer to my friend Leila who was coming to visit one night. Along came visiting time and she walked on the ward only to find I had gone. The poor woman for a brief moment must had thought I’d finally canned it. Obviously, I found this highly amusing when she did eventually find the room I had been located to and just wish I could have seen her face.

I had settled in but still wasn’t feeling great but I could get up out of bed and go to the toilet and just leave the urine samples on the floor knowing they were all mine. I’d even managed to master getting to the toilet without unplugging myself that saved a good 10 minutes of bladder time at least I reckon. In the morning I could have my own shower and not worry about what I was going to find when I entered the cubicle (that’s another story). It felt good to relocate and be able to have a much bigger space to settle into. I could put the fan on whenever I wanted, open the window and not have to worry about what effect it might have on someone else. When visitors came, I could talk to them properly and they had somewhere to sit all in all things were good or so I thought.

The lonely nights

Then came the nights, visiting was over by 8.00pm and after that I would try to get settled in the hope of a good night’s sleep. Unfortunately, this wasn’t to be, see the room I was in was also adjacent to the men’s ward and unfortunately some poor soul would cry out ‘nurse!’ at the top of his voice for what felt like hours. I’m not sure if one time he was trying to escape through the window. He might have had a shock had he succeeded as we were at least one or two stories up.

I would try and watch a programme knowing that I would be on the medicine round at some point. Unfortunately, being at the bottom of the ward meant you were last on the round and the days that were painful and you just wanted something to help meant the wait seemed a whole lot longer. That clock would slowly tick away and time would pass slowly as you waited. That clock finally got the better of me a few days later and after being more or less bed bound staring at the wall wishing time would pass, I got someone to take it off the wall.

When the medicine did finally arrive, I would set up my station of ice-cold water, flannel, fan nearby ready in anticipation for what was about to come. It was strange but for some reason like clockwork I would get a pain in my stomach which would get worse and worse. It would generally peak around 2-3am and from then on getting to sleep was almost impossible. My stomach would expand to a point where it looked as though I was a good 7 months pregnant. Combined with the increasingly itchy and swollen face I was a right catch.

The doctors weren’t sure what was happening. See as usual I had impeccable timing and chosen to be in hospital at the same time my oncologist was taking annual leave. Don’t get me wrong there were many other doctors there who were all trying their best to find out what was happening but some days I didn’t actually know who had been to see me and probably could have done with a relative or friend to actually take note of what they were saying.

In regards to my stomach swelling there was concern that I had some form of gallstones. They had scanned me (I think) and were contemplating at one point about operating and taking them out. I don’t know why but I knew this wasn’t right and I was genuinely concerned that I wasn’t fit enough for it. I was determined to do whatever it would take to reduce the swelling. I remember asking one of the doctors how gallstones are caused and what could I do to stop it. His response was to cut out all fat. Well to be honest I had already totally changed my diet I wasn’t eating cheese or dairy he pointed to the coconut oil (I hadn’t even had it, the intention was to replace it for butter to have some bread with the vegan soups I was smuggling in). Anyway, I made a conscious effort and made sure anything that passed my lips contained little or no fat at all. Almond milk and nuts included.

A few days later the gallstone surgeon (not sure what the technical name is) came, thankfully she had reviewed my scan and said there was no gallstones there. They came to the conclusion with my own doctor who was still on holiday at the time emailing the doctors to help that it was the treatment that had been attacking my body. This was good news in one way but later on it revealed the not so good news that my immune system was boosted so much it was now attacking my body and potentially my internal organs.

The worst night in hospital I remember was ironically Halloween night. There was a bank nurse on duty at night and unfortunately as much as I don’t like to say this as I know how hard nurses and doctors work and how much they are under pressure I remember this lady for all the wrong reasons. See my temperatures had started to spike earlier on this night. I was having rigors but unfortunately when you’re in the ward all on your own you sometimes get forgotten about. It got to a point where I had to press the buzzer and waited for what felt like a long, long time. When the nurse finally did arrive, I asked her to find out when my medication was coming as it was really late and if I could have anything else for the pain. I also happened to mention that I had at least 6 carboard urine samples in the bathroom and I couldn’t get in with my drip so asked if she would remove them. It was obviously above her station as they didn’t get moved. I then asked if she would if she would get me some ice-cold water to dip my flannel in so that I could put it on my head. Previously this had never been a problem and if I was able to, I would have gone and got it myself but I wasn’t. She looked at me and tutted, I was astonished. That night was horrendous I had pain like I had never experienced and she didn’t come to check on me once. She had been assigned to my room but hadn’t made any visits and the next I saw of anyone was on the morning transfer at 6am.

I like to think I am tough and try not to cause any fuss but its truth be told I was petrified. I didn’t know what was happening to me and I couldn’t wait for the morning to come when I had some visitors. That day at visiting I broke down in tears as I told Ste and my parents how I felt. They were sure to voice my concerns for me and thankfully I didn’t see that same nurse for the rest of my stay. See I suppose it’s like any job you have some that choose their profession because they love what they do and some that don’t. Unfortunately when you’re a nurse if you don’t like the profession you’re in it’s pretty obvious to those that you care for.

The next two nights someone stayed by my bedside to reassure me. The first was my mum who at the age of nearly 70 with two dodgy hips, slept in a chair next to me and nursed me through the night. The second day I took a turn for the worse just before visiting was over, I was put on an oxygen mask and sent for a chest x-ray so they let Ste sleep in the camp bed next to me (the lengths people go to, to get some company). All I know is that the times I had someone in my room I knew that I would get through the night and if things weren’t right they would make sure I got the help I needed.

The next night I put my big girl knickers on and I braved the night on my own. This time the nurses came and checked every one or two hours which not only reassured me but it made sure that if my temperature or blood pressure was high, they dealt with it a lot sooner. See sometimes you have to experience something negative and let other people know for a positive change to happen and it felt like it had.

What I came to realise from this is that it was great to have all the home comforts, a bigger space, an en-suite, a window space but it’s no good if you don’t have anyone to share it with. I had been moved to the Penthouse suite and all I wanted was to feel safe with people around me in the shared accommodation (despite their little quirks). That way you were less likely to be forgotten about and literally didn’t have to watch time go by before someone came.

Bonfire Night – Nostalgia

It was bonfire night one of my favourite nights of the year. See as a child I was lucky enough to live on a street with my aunties, uncles and cousins next door and next door but one. Bonfire nights were fantastic and most of the street would get involved we would spend weeks collecting pallets from nearby building sites and literally anything that wasn’t nailed down. We would all make something whether that be spud pie (proper northerner), black eyed peas (not the band), treacle toffee, fireworks and much more. It was fantastic and it wasn’t because we had the biggest bonfire or even the best firework display (a black cat box with a roman candle and a rocket from THASDA was hardly going to win any competitions) but it was the best because of the people that were there, friends and family all mucking in to be together. It was nostalgic and every year I get that same feeling of happiness I had for many years. This year was different though I was sat in my bed watching fireworks go off in the distance and I longed for nothing more to be with my friends and family or at least share the experience with my old roomies further up the ward.

It was this moment that I knew that we had made the right decision to put up our house for sale. See it was a beautiful home, one of our dreams but what it brought in style and size it lacked in the fact that we weren’t surrounded by people that care for us and whom we came to rely on. Our kids didn’t have what I had and now treasure as an adult. They had no kids to play out with until the dark hours or houses they could just walk in to see friends and family. I didn’t know what was to happen to me in the future, but what I did know was that the kids  childhood and seeing them happy was a priority. To them living in a big house wasn’t important they wanted to be kids and we needed to make sure of this before their childhood was over.

December 2018

It’s December 2018 and I have neglected my blog for some time now for reasons which hopefully will become clearer in this post. Amazingly I have been given the all clear, where at my last scan in September 2018 I was told there was absolutely nothing there. I am still on regular scans, check-ups and appointments for things like mole mapping (no real moles are harmed in this mapping before any animal rights activists get worried). I’m not sure when I will be officially classed as in remission and cancer free, I think it’s around 3 years. It’s something I need to ask next appointment but for now I need to concentrate on the here and now and the short-term successes I have had.

Just recently I had a minor operation to have another mole removed and the results were all fine, which was a huge relief. My next scan is this Friday and I should get the results in January. Hopefully it will be more good news it’s the waiting that is the hard part. 

I know over the past 12 months I have had so many successes however sometimes you just can’t see the wood for the trees even when the branches are poking you right in the eye. This couldn’t be truer for myself over past 4-5 months where I must have had a twig well and truly wedged in my eye.

A whirlwind of chaos

It seemed like I had only just braved sharing my journey in writing this blog than no sooner was it over. It certainly isn’t that I was disappointed it was ‘over’ by any means if anything it was nothing short of a miracle. In just around 12 months I went from having a minor operation, to having been diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer, then being put straight on treatment only to experience some life threatening side effects which I was then told no further treatment could be given,  then to be told I was cancer free a few months later. Thanks to the miracle drug immunotherapy, the amazing doctors and nurses and hopefully a bit of my will to fight, health, exercise and attitude in the mix I had amazingly beaten this disease.

Everything happened in such a short space of time with such a whirlwind of emotions that it was so difficult to keep up with what actually was happening on a daily basis. I seem to have escaped this horrible disease relatively easily in that my treatment side effects were pain free up to a point. Sometimes it’s difficult to comprehend when I know people who have suffered so much pain, I hear so many stories, watch programmes on TV and then just become an emotional wreck. I often question how have I been so lucky and a fraction of guilt sits in the back of my mind. This along with an element of fear and worry of reoccurence then escalated into a lack of confidence and focus which is the complete opposite of the positive fighting, fearless attitude that people previously praised and commented on. 

I started to change and felt somewhat a hypocrite in that I wasn’t fully practicing what I had preached. I then started to feel somewhat embarassed of my openness to being ill when I probably could have quite easily ‘hid’ it from the majority of people. These mix of emotions and the general hustle and bustle of ‘normal life’, still working while all of this has been going on meant that writing was put on the back burner as had my other rituals which had probably helped get me where I was today.

The aftermath and dealing with destruction

The thing I have realised  just recently though is that it’s not over it’s something that I have to live with but not let it take over my life. I shouldn’t feel embarrassed, what I should be doing is using this experience to help others which was the main purpose of starting this blog in the first place. The last 4-5 months or so are all part of my journey whether it’s good or bad.

See physically I am in such an amazing place that I could only have dreamed of 12 months ago and I am genuinely so grateful. However for some reason unbeknown to me after what I know was one of the hardest times of my life I have been struggling in different ways. The painful and physical hard work seems to be over but what I failed and neglected was the power of the mind in this battle and how your body reacts to what your mind is telling you.

I have struggled to ‘slot’ back into where I left before I started this journey and have possibly been left in some state of shock. This was mirrored somewhat with my hair after a spell in hospital. Back in late February my hair started to fall out. I would wash my hair and clunps would fall out and I was becoming increasingly thin on top and short at the sides. When I discussed this with the oncologist at the time there was no apparent reason other than that your body can sometimes go into shock after a traumatic experience and hair loss can be one side effect.

With cancer I think many people now associate hair loss with treatment. Fortunately hair loss isn’t one of the side effects on immunotherapy. My hair loss was only minor and temporary it’s started to grow back but I can sort of associate how people might feel vulnerable about loosing  their hair along with being unwell. I totally admire those people who have fully embraced their hair loss the choice whether or not to hide it is totally personal to that individual. What I did find out from my experience is there are some great wigs and hair pieces out there if people choose to wear them. I did get quite attached to some of the long hair pieces I wore on nights out. I simply clipped my hair in and was ready to go. I should wear them more often. On most nights out I bet there are very few people who have their own teeth, nails, eyelashes, eyebrows, lips or other body parts for that matter. A hair piece to boost my confidence or feel good wasn’t much different really when you look at it like that. I bet if most of us were totally honest we could remove our ‘sexiness’ with  a single baby wipe! (me included). That’s why it’s definitely important be beautiful on the inside as well. 

I first braved wearing it on a night out with my old friend Leila (she’s not that old, I’ve just known her a long time). I picked her up and we were off to go for a posh meal or date night as we call it (no it wasn’t Nando’s before you ask). I couldn’t decide if the hair piece I had in was too ‘my little pony’ shall we say. What, with my 5ft frame and what felt like a 4ft hair piece I wasn’t sure if it looked more like a mane than a hair piece.  I had bought a couple of spares just in case so I brought the shorter piece to ask for Leila’s opinion. It shouldn’t have suprised me that when I showed her she found it more amusing to shove the shorter fuller piece in between her legs, take a picture and brag about her bush. I realised then that it didn’t really matter if I had hair or no hair. Real friends will take the piss out of you regardless just to make you feel ‘normal’.

Acceptance and Re-focus

I know I am not the same person I was before all this I just hope I am a better person somewhere inside even though of late it hsn’t felt that way. I have just been struggling to bring that person out smiling of late and I know it’s all in my mind.

I have been suffering with fatigue and aching joints yet had numerous tests to discover there is not anything physically wrong with me. I often feel as though I’m just ‘getting through’ the week and use the weekends to recharge my batteries. My early morning rituals have disappeared and what once was focus is currently a string of chaotic thoughts, and worry in my mind. I am still doing my healthy eating but maybe eat a bit too much dark chocolate and sometimes I question the purpose of it all when deep down I know the purpose. My exercise hasn’t been as frequent of late either which totally isn’t like me. I don’t think I’ve been the easiest person to live with either.

See when I was poorly my main focus was getting better and beating cancer. Each day was a blessing and I didn’t think too far ahead for fear of the unknown. I have now lost this focus and it has been difficult to re-ajust on a different path. My path has changed but for the better. I now should be enjoying life ensuring that there are no recurrences in the future it just might take a bit longer than I first thought. 

Cutting the cord

When I was told I was cancer free it was a shock. With everything that had happened we were expecting to go to the follow up appointment hoping for some progress, but to have been told there was nothing there totally exceeded any expectation. There wasn’t that jumping for joy in the room like you would have imagined that came later on with tears of joy when we shared the news with family and friends. It was so emotional but yet strange. 

Ater the news the appointments become less frequent, the scans become further apart you sort of loose that safety net you once had. It felt as though the umbilical cord of treatment, oncologist and nurses which I had once relied so heavily upon had been removed. I felt I was on my own, but like a new born baby you’re not really on your own. Your just no longer dependent on the cord that once kept you alive. You’re learning to survive and figure things out for yourself while those around you watch over you.

Like most people who have experienced major changes in their lives you just have to learn to accept what has happened. You need to learn from it and re-focus your efforts on the next chapter of your life. 

I know that by writing I feel I can talk for hours and some poor unfortunate soul has their ear well and truly bent. But I know that it’s a way of finding that positivity and drive that beat Metastatic Melanoma which once was incurable. I also hope that sharing these thoughts  show that not all journeys are plain sailing even when you think they are complete. Never underestimate the power of the mind. It can be powerful current which if not tread with caution can drag you under when you least expect it.

So, here’s to the next few months where I am going to focus on appreciating the here and now. Not pushing people away, avoiding nights out, building back some confidence and setting myself some short-term goals. More importantly being grateful for every day I am here and those that will always stand by me no matter what. I think they know who they are, if not I need to work on telling them more often.

Thursday 16th August 2018

So it’s a year to the day I was sat in a room on my own innocently or maybe it was naively waiting for my operation results. The room was filled with a number of people their faces I can’t quite picture but I’m sure if our paths were to ever cross again I would instantly recognise them. Words were spoken which although I may not remember word for word I will never forget how they made me feel and that at that moment my life changed forever.

“I’m sorry it’s not good news, you have cancer”. These are words which given a choice no one would ever like to here said to them or someone they love.

So one year on what has happened? So much has happened I sometimes wake up or take a moment day dreaming and think shit yes that did actually happen. My body and mind has been through so much. Out of the two, I think it’s my mind that struggles to comprehend things the most and the power of the mind should never be underestimated.

I don’t think that just applies to cancer I think that goes for any issue, acheivement or traumatic experience in your life. It was my mind and positivity that has got me where I am today but it’s my mind that also unfortunately sends waves of fear of the unknowns and sadness when things all get a bit too much.

Today unfortunately is one of those days and I’m not even quite sure why. I have so much to be grateful and happy for I know but for some reason I don’t feel like celebrating and I’m struggling to hold back the tears.

So as were sat in traffic on the M6 setting of on a trip I honestly didn’t feel like going on or that I would bring much fun too I decided to make the best use of my time write down my thoughts and reflect in a bid to trick my mind into changing my mood for the sake of my husband, kids and lovely family were visiting who unfortunately have no choice but to endure my mood and ‘enjoy’ my company.

So a year on what have I to celebrate about?

1. I’m still here and amazingly I’m fit and well. Despite the unstackable odds against me not only was I lucky to have treatment that some people would sell their house and life savings for but I had treatment that worked. It came with side effects some  pretty horrendous which the doctors had never experienced before and some which I hope will now be on the radar of other patients. Despite and inspite of those side effects it bloody well worked and less than a year from being told I had stage 4 cancer I was sat in a room to be told that they think it’s all gone and I can ‘get’ on with life. In someways it’s a miracle.
2. I’ve raised money for charity – I walked, I wrote and people gave their well earned cash to charities which I hold close to my heart and continue to help me and so many cancer patients.
3. I finally got a belt – so after years of fitness, some boxing and thai boxing but nothing to show for my efforts I decided to pick up my dusty gloves out of retirement and took up kickboxing with the kids. We all got our white belts and it won’t just stop there. I’ve punched my way through this cancer journey and I’ll keep fighting with my kids by my side.
4. 1 year no beer!! Probably my most amazing achievement to date for some people is the fact I gave up drink and still socialise! Apart from the time I’ve been bearing child I don’t  think I’ve ever stopped drinking for more than a couple of weeks.  Before you call the fun police it hasn’t been that bad.  I probably talk slightly less shit, I don’t  wake up in strange locations,  I’m  a cheap date and if I do ever decide to start drinking again I reckon 2 shandy’s and I’ll be off home with a falafell kebab in hand.
5. I learnt to write. Part of this journey has involved openly and honestly writing down my feelings hopefully in a way that can help people and also in a way that people also find entertaining.  Thankfully the feed back has been good in terms of my writing which has encouraged me to carry on.  Who knows I might put pen to paper in other forms than this blog in the future.
6. I am a tough mudder.  So recently I finished a tough murder which for anyone who doesn’t  know is a race full of disgusting (sorry fun) obstacles.  It was only 5k but I did it.  More importantly I did it with some fantastic friends who helped me get my leg over more than just once.  Don’t  worry Ste was there to watch and help!  When I look back to the days where a walk round the block was a task as I was so weak and when jogging brought on panic attacks of emotions and tears I think it’s another obstacle I’ve overcome.I’m already thinking about the next challenge.
7. I’ve inspired others. It feels like a strange thing to say and one I still find unbelievable that anyone would call me inspirational but people have.  Friends have said I have helped them take on challenges that they never would have done and people have said my positive attitude has inspired them. Today didn’t feel like one of those days but if there’s anything I would like to achieve in my little life then inspiring others is definitely up there.
8. I promoted health and well-being to others and bared all to a room full of colleagues.  I was given a wake up call to make health my main priority I try to watch what I eat look after my body and mind.  I don’t want others to wait for something drastic to happen in their lives before they start to take care of themselves. Even when looking after others you need to look after yourself first. Thankfully people said they took alot from it which they will incorporate in their own lives and I can’t  ask for much better than that.

So as I’m sat here in the car on this journey which has took us over 6 hours so far it seems pretty symbolic of our lives. See our lives aren’t  always mapped out the way we planned.  Sometimes we have to take a longer road which can be bumpy and a bit scary at times.  But we have a choice we can either make it the worse ride ever or enjoy it with those that are always around us who pick us up when we’re down and make sure we get there in the end.

And like my best friend has just reminded me our journey is what we make it and I want to make it as fun and fulfilled as possible. My mood has changed since writing this as I know I have so much to be grateful for. I’m looking  forward to spending another weekend with people I love for starts.

So happy 1 year Canniversary. You’ve brought so much sadness and chaos in our lives but with that has come lots of love,  happiness, fun times with family, solid friendships and memories I might not have crammed into 1 year had this not happened.  Here’s to the next year proving I’m here for the long, fun yet sometimes bumpy ride.

X x xx

20th October 2017

So I was admitted to hospital and this is where some of my memory becomes a bit foggy. I was put on a mixed bay with about five other women to start with. It’s safe to say I was the ‘youngest’ recruit. I felt a bit like I’d been put on some outward bound school trip only I’d been shoved in with a group of teachers instead of my school friends or what I imagine going to an army training camp would be like, only we were the next set of ‘Dad’s Army’ recruits who hadn’t quite made the grade to go into full battle.

You each have your own bed, tv, chair, locker and curtains which can be drawn round (for so called privacy if you wish). I was on an end bay which was great as there was probably slightly more room so felt like I had come up trumps there. Something inside your mind likes to think your getting a better deal than the person next to you. It’s wrong I know and I don’t think this soley applies to hospital beds. I’ve also been part to discussions over office desks, window views on a plane, hotel suites the list goes on. We train ourselves to constantly wanting more, better, bigger thinking if only I had this I would be happier.

The truth is the happiest person in the room is more likely the one who’s accepting and grateful for their current surroundings regardless if the person next to them has got a new bigger, better monitor. It’s hard to train your mind to think like this though as part is essentially greed and your aspiration and drive to achieve more and part probably is connected to your overall wellbeing. It’s something I try to be more conscious of at least and grateful for what I do have rather than resentful for what I don’t.

Like on any holiday or stay away. I like to set up my stall and unpack everything straight away. I like to feel organised and know where everything is (Ste will laugh at this as he thinks I’m pretty untidy at home and currently struggle to find a matching pair of underwear most mornings).  I’m not sure if I did this straight away as I wasn’t feeling the best but I managed to make it comfortable and homely for the short period I was going to be in there at least.

Daily Routine

Being in hospital is slightly different than being in the outside world. In some respects it’s regimented to the fact that you do almost the same thing day in and day out. Your day becomes what is imposed on you, when you wash, your next medication, when you wait for the doctors visits, visiting times, when you eat and to some point when you sleep. On the days that you’re feeling better it can become extremely monontonus but on the not so good days waiting for your medication to come so you can get some rest or waiting for the doctor to visit can feel like a life time.

After a while you become disassociated with the outside world, i.e. bills, what’s going on in the news, school messages, the weather and general day to day things you normally think of. It’s only when you come out that you realise the world didn’t stop it’s just your main focus was your health and getting out of hospital and unfortunately there wasn’t time for both.

Mornings usually started at 6.30/7.00am where your greeted with a “good morning ladies” ,curtains drawn and then asked if you would like some breakfast or a wash. This is great on some mornings when you’re feeling good but on the mornings where the night before you’ve been in pain or kept awake all night and just managed to drift off about two hours before you pretty much feel like returning the “good morning” with a punch to the face. Not that I would but were all allowed to have those sort of thoughts sometimes aren’t we??

See in the morning the biggest task is to get everyone fed, washed and watered and then the beds can be stripped and cleaned after all everyone has a job to do. I was lucky in the sense in the time I was in I didn’t need someone to help me do this. Unfortunately some of my ‘roomies’ were solely dependant on waiting for someone else to help them go to the toilet, wash and sometimes eat. Although I struggled to move at some points, I could and I needed to stop being so lazy and just crack on. See in hospital it’s good in a sense that you’re assessed and prioritised from the level of care you need not on your social status, wealth, age, gender or race it would just be good if sometimes this applied a bit more in day to day life.

Whilst breakfast was being served you generally got your medication for the morning depending on where you were in the ward was how soon this arrived. After that on the days where I felt good it seemed like an extremely long wait until lunch or visiting time.

I decided this was the time I needed to utilise the most. I spent time reading, meditating, writing, colouring and exercising just to keep me occupied. Not all days were like this as some days I’m not sure I did much other than lie in bed but on the ones later down the line where my main focus was escape I knew that it wasn’t going to happen if I didn’t build up my strength by climbing those stairs and doing those laps of the lift area. These were the things that along with medication I’m certain they got me home to my family.

Lunch times were pretty much the same as breakfasts. In this country we’re extremely lucky we have meals provided to us but if I’m totally honest I struggled to find something to eat which suited my current dietary requirements or even get what I ordered on most days. Even the ‘healthy’ or vegetarian options often included dairy, cheese, meat, processed foods. All things I had spent time and effort reading that can contribute to all sort of health issues not just cancer and that I had been trying to avoid to give myself a fighting chance, were unfortunately on the menu. I was grateful for the options but I was even more grateful for the supply of foods from family and friends when they visited.

At first I felt pretty awkward about this to the HCA (Health Care Assistants) I felt I was being difficult. I would ask for my own milk with tea and when meal times came I often had a vegetable soup or something similar like plain chicken breast to add to my meal (of peas or carrots) which they needed to warm up. I felt guilty for wasting their time in a sense, so as I felt better and more mobile I would just go and sort myself out when I could.

Looking back I shouldn’t have felt so awkward at the end of the day it was my lifestyle choice such as smoking, drinking or religion was to some extent. We’re taught to accept people’s decisions, so food choices shouldn’t be any different. I am eating healthily (most of the time) because I believe that this along with my treatment will beat cancer. Ultimately if we all looked at our diets a bit more avoided processed foods and refined sugars maybe the NHS wouldn’t be under such strain in the first place. After a while the assistants that got to know me more understood this and were extremely helpful. I even showed some the books I had been reading to support this.

Visiting Times

At 2pm it was visiting time this seemed such a wait from the morning and I’m sure it would be better if families could come early to maybe help with the things such as getting people dressed, hair washed, feeding etc. I would literally count the clock for visiting. It was either my chance for escape or some security and help as to what was going on, on the not so good days. See going down the lift to the shop to buy more healthy foods was the highlight. At some point I was allowed to go out with a visitor across the road to Booths (other stores are available) for a cup of tea. It was like day release from prison although I’m not sure I’d get very far if I decided to escape for good. Most days my parents would come, Ste and the kids would usually come in the evenings as he was still working. My friends and sister would come in between which gave my mum and dad a bit of a rest.

Visiting time was over at 4.00pm and this was the bit I didn’t think made much sense. We then had tea (dinner) around 5.30pm and the next lot of visiting was at 6pm. In my mind it should have been spread out so visiting was earlier in the day then at 6pm in the evening. Most days you were pretty much worn out from the first lot of visitors and not long after your dinner (tray of peas or carrots in my case) would arrive then so did your next lot of visitors so some days you struggled to keep your eyes open.

Evening visiting was the hardest. Generally Ste would come straight from work so we had to try and find him something to eat then not long after he would have to go. We would often sit on a table together chatting whilst I watched him eat a sausage roll and chips whilst I sat watching with a herbal tea dressed in my ‘comfy clothes’ often with a drip attached to my arm. It wasn’t quite as romantic as lady and the tramp but it was special in the sense that we were together and could have a laugh and be normal (ish).

Sometimes he would bring the kids during the week but then they had school so often got tired or bored (I’m not sure which). In a way it’s more difficult and draining for the visitors who regularly come to see you. They’re still living in the ‘outside world’ so to speak but trying to juggle visiting you, catching up with what’s happened to you during the day and lying awake worrying at night if your ok when you’re too tired to respond to texts. Usually they’re doing this whilst still having to get up every day to do a days work while I was often sat there wishing time would pass quickly most days.

Ste or my parents would try and leave everything at night so it was easy to access or help me get changed into my night things. After they had gone I often did a few laps of the ward in the evening and try to settle down to watch a programme or read in the hope to tire myself out enough to get some rest or a least until the last lot of medication came. I often knew that the nights were the worst and that’s when I wanted those whom I felt secure around me the most but you were in the hands of the nurses and doctors. It’s not that they weren’t capable or caring it’s just that unfortunately unlike your family and friends you’re not necessary their number one priority. They prioritise their time to those that need it the most which despite what you think at the time of need it isn’t always you. Their time and care is often stretched between so many that the sound of the bed buzzer at night is a common noise amongst others.

That was the general daily routine. It wasn’t what I was used to but one I was going to be accustomed too. I just had to accept it be grateful for the care I was receiving and make the most of each day the good and the bad ones. Now I was settled in my barracks next step was to make friends not to mention beating the enemy, cancer of course.

Round 2 ding ding!

I was one treatment down and things seemed to be fine (or so I thought). I felt tired apart from that I seemed pretty normal. Each treatment was like a key milestone I couldn’t wait to complete (help me now I’m bringing project controls jargon into my blog!). The treatments were to be 3 weeks apart and I was due to have 4 lots. After that fourth treatment I would be scanned to see the effectiveness before possibly continuing with just Nivolumab in the future.

In my mind I had a visible end date in sight. I would get through each treatment and in December (hopefully by Christmas) I would know the results. I had something to focus on and knew I had to put in my everything into these next 12 weeks to ensure I got the best out of the results. This meant getting myself mentally and physically fit. I needed to calm my mind of fears and doubts, staying positive in my outlook with faith and determination into beating this disease. I had to ensure I was in the best physical condition I could be. Exercise was on the agenda most days running and the gym, out was the alcohol and in was the green tea and turmeric. Processed foods were to become a distant memory and organic and plant-based foods where high on the agenda. I was practically becoming Gillian McKeith without a Scottish accent and the need to poo in a butty box for further investigation.

The next treatment couldn’t come soon enough. There was an element of excitement to it as in, this is the thing I have to go through to get the end result I want. It’s a bit like writing your Christmas list, leaving out a mince-pie, carrot and milk and hanging your stocking on the fireplace waiting for Santa to come the next morning despite secretly knowing at the age of 33 it was really your parents who left you the gifts (sorry if I’ve shattered anyone’s illusion).

Around the second week after my first treatment I did start to get a bit of a rash, this is one of the common side effects with the combination treatment of Nivolumab and Ipilimumab. The rash wasn’t really affecting me so I left it and didn’t phone the chemo help line. In my mind if I alerted them to it then there could be a chance that I wouldn’t be able to have the treatment and this certainly wasn’t what I wanted.

Anyone who is reading this and currently going through some form of treatment please note this is the biggest mistake you can make. You need to be aware of any changes to your body however slight they might seem at the time (write them down in a diary if need be) highlight these to your doctor or nurse you never know these could be the early signs of something a lot more serious and early intervention could be key.

I went to my next appointment in which I was due to have my treatment I was asked about side effects and said I had none apart from a bit of a rash. I was asked to show this to the skin care nurse and doctor and unfortunately my treatment was cancelled that day. I was given a prescription of Diprobase to apply and was told they would defer the treatment for another week. I was disappointed and upset not only had I wasted my own time but I had wasted theirs as well. Had I mentioned this to the skin care nurse I could have had the cream earlier and it might have worked before the next treatment.  I went home and made sure I applied it whenever possible, I was taking no chances of the treatment being deferred again. One weeks Extension of Time was acceptable two weeks wasn’t (shoot me now I’m doing it again Project Controls tripe again).

The following week I went for my treatment this time my mum came along. It still felt strange but this time with a bit more understanding of what to expect. I felt fine afterwards. So far it was just the tiredness and a bit of a skin rash if these were the only symptoms I was doing pretty well as I had sort of expected it to be a lot worse than this. This was too good to be true and unfortunately it was.

Signs and Symptoms 

When I recall some of these symptoms I’m not really sure what came first. It’s all bit of a blur in my mind. I had the second treatment and was applying Diprobase so much I was as slippery as an eel. It worked however, and the rashes seemed to disappear. I was still working and remember saying to a few people about my vision going blurry. I kept getting moments of blurriness then white flashes in the corner of my eyes. I remember one instance I was talking to my old boss and I couldn’t even see his face in front of me. He was still chatting to me but I didn’t have a clue what he was saying. I was too busy blinking constantly and stretching my face to try to bring my vision back. Think of Jim Carrey on ecstasy and you’re probably not far off what it looked like. This continued for about a week or so and it got to a point where I wasn’t sure if I was safe to drive so I avoided driving …. to work at least.

Next came the stomach pains. I had been exercising quite a bit and thought I had just maybe strained something. We were also tidying the house ready to get pictures taken for it to go on the market. I had been moving a lot of boxes of random crap about so I put it down to this. It was a lot worse than period pains but bearable. If you’re a man it’s probably on your pain threshold of 9, with 10 being a cold (ha joking but I thought I’d get that in there). I was working from home and the pains started to feel worse. I felt really lethargic so I text work to tell them I wouldn’t be in the next day.

I went to bed that evening and the pains started to get worse. My stomach felt really bloated and did look a bit inflamed. During the night I took some paracetamol and ibuprofen hoping to take the edge off the pain. I also started to feel really hot so I took my temperature it was 39 degrees. When you first have treatment your advised to buy a thermometer and regularly take your temperature and advise of any changes (normal temperature is around 37 degrees). Whilst rummaging through the drawer to find my thermometer at the middle of the night Ste asked me what the heck I was doing (I’m not sure he used those words to be honest) so I took myself off into the spare room. That night the pains continued and then I started to feel really cold and shaky. I went to the bathroom and my stomach had swollen up so much I looked a good 6-7 months pregnant (I normally look 1-2 on a good day). I reckon if I was on a crowded bus you would have got up and offered your seat to me. I stayed in the spare room that night and continued to shake and shiver. In the morning Ste had just got up and taken the kids to the childminder. He hadn’t come into my room as he thought I was having a lie in.

I woke up about  9am and couldn’t move. I felt as though going to the bathroom was like climbing Snowdonia. I phoned my parents and thankfully they came round. My mum ran me a bath and poured hot water on my back to warm me up. I felt awful, I took my temperature and it was 41.5 my mum prompted me to phone the chemo line so I did. The chemo line advised me to go straight to my local ambulatory care ward. When I got there I was seen straight away and put in a side room. What I didn’t know is that they were treating me for suspected Sepsis. I was put on an antibiotic drip straight away and had some bloods taken. For those that have never heard of it Sepsis can be life threatening. It’s also know as blood poisoning and is the body’s over active and toxic response to an infection (in my case cancer). I have a family member who has recently suffered from this. Thankfully they caught it in time but I know she spent a lot of time in hospital and recovering afterwards. If you have a high temperature and shivers it might be worth bearing this in mind along with a number of other symptoms which are detailed on the Sepsis Trust

Whilst on the drip I was sweating uncontrollably so much so we sent my dad for a spare top to put on. After the drip I was to be taken for a chest x-ray. It was all a bit of a shock but I was seen pretty quickly and started to feel a lot better. Thankfully the bloods came back and confirmed it wasn’t Sepsis so I could wait in the waiting room to speak to the doctor. When we finally got to speak to the doctor it was a bit surreal. He asked about my treatment. He confirmed it wasn’t Sepsis and said it was likely to be a viral infection but didn’t want to interfere with my treatment so I was to be sent home. The doctor also showed my mum and I the chest x-ray compared to one a few weeks earlier when I had just had started treatment and they thought I had a PE (pulmonary embolism) but that’s another story. You could visibly see a difference in the chest that the cancer had shrunk. He said he wasn’t an oncologist but I wasn’t a doctor and I could see a difference. My mum burst into tears and then so did I. She was telling the doctor how positive I’d been about all this and here we had a glimpse despite not total confirmation that maybe it was working. There could be some benefit to all this being positive malarkey after all.

See whilst you’re undergoing treatment they don’t like you to have scans unless absolutely necessary as this can interfere with the treatment. I also knew from the doctor that scans can change during treatment they can look like they’re shrinking then they suddenly get bigger. There’s so many different variables of what can and can’t happen it’s a minefield I don’t envy the oncologists. I struggle to decide what to eat for dinner let alone what to do best for a patient’s life (hence why I am not a doctor). This however was a glimpse of positive news I didn’t want to share it with everyone for fear of false hope but I was sure to mention it to the oncologist the next time we spoke. I was discharged and hopefully it would just pass over.

That night the same happened although not on the same scale. My temperature was so high though I was still shaking uncontrollably with what is known as the rigors. It sounds funny but it’s awful. You feel extremely cold and shiver and try to do anything to keep warm however you actually need to be doing the complete opposite. You should try to cool down and bring your temperature down. I phoned my parents later that morning and they came round. I made sure I was dressed properly and I phoned the chemo line. I was told to come to the Friday clinic straight away to be seen.

Checking in

I checked into the Friday clinic and went through the past few details. I was feeling extremely hot then fainted whilst having some bloods done. Now this isn’t normal for me, having cancer certainly get’s you used to having needles poked in your arm, it becomes the norm. The more you have it done the more you don’t feel it. One little tip my friend who had cancer told me recently was to rub your arm and warm it up before you have any bloods taken it works I promise.

After being checked over the doctor was slightly concerned about me therefore they thought it was best they keep me in over the weekend. Being that we were a bit of a distance from the hospital I didn’t disagree and thought it would be the best place for me. In my mind all things being equal I’d be back out Tuesday for work then ready to have another treatment in another week.  The nurses on the chemo ward rushed round to try to see if there was a bed available luckily there was a bed on the oncology ward. Had this not been the case I dread to think what would have happened knowing what I know now. So many patients you see are on wards where there are just beds available. Often the nurses and doctors don’t know much about you and it’s not their specialist ward either. It’s a sad state of affairs which unfortunately most hospitals seem to be suffering with under the constant strain of the NHS.

Thankfully I had a bed though and was checking in for weekend (or so I thought). I was wheeled down to the ward by the chemo nurse who was their way past her finishing time despite going on holiday that following day. I was shown to my bed and tried to settle in for the night.

As I lay in the bed quite daunted by it all. I’d learned a valuable lesson the hard way. There’s no reward in cancer for keeping quiet and battling through regardless. Hiding your symptoms and side effects doesn’t make things easier if anything it makes it worse. These are the tell-tale signs than can ultimately mean life or death. Now I’m not telling you to be overly paranoid and phone up for ever minor ailment but try to listen to your body. If something’s not right trust your instinct and follow it up.

Out weighing the negatives with the positives

The positive sides to cancer? Really what the heck is the woman on about I hear you say. Most if you have probably heard of the phrase that if everyone threw all their worries and problems up in the air you’d be glad that you caught your own on the way down? If you haven’t then you’re missing out, you were probably either born into a Royalty or have been hiding under a rock for the past 40 years. I have tonnes of practical life advice and gems like this which have helped me get where I am today and I can honestly say I haven’t eaten yellow snow yet tempting as it has been at times.

From personal experience I can honestly say you would not wish this disease on your worst enemy and if I threw some of my current problems up in the air you’d probably avoid it like a shit storm for sure. However, we all have our own issues and problems going on in our lives but it’s true there is always somebody worse off than you. For every negative thing that happens in our life we have to take the positives from it in order to overcome it.

Having cancer has definitely brought with it it’s fair share of negatives and heart ache but I can honestly say there have been some positives throughout all this experience. I’ve listed some of these below;

1. A new-found sense of gratitude

From all of this I am more appreciative and grateful for the things I do possess in life. I have a family, children, friends, a roof over my head, I can afford to eat, I am lucky enough to have treatment. I am ALIVE. All these things each day I am grateful for. Sometimes you just have to step back from all the chaos and see what you do have around you. Yes, strive to be a better person to get that promotion you want, to save up and buy that pair of shoes but don’t lose sight of the simple pleasures in life that I know I have taken for granted before like your health and wellbeing.

2. You tend to win on the Top Trump of ailments

There are certain people who tend to be quite vocal about issues going on in their daily lives, little niggles and aches, colds and sniffles. These are the type of people when you ask the question “How are you doing?” you suddenly remind your subconscious why you shouldn’t have asked that question in the first place. It’s not that you don’t care about them I think it’s that our day-to-day chaotic lives don’t always leave us time for those sorts of discussions. Sometimes people just want to talk and to know someone is listening. Maybe ask this person to go for a brew one day or sit next to them with a timer and tell them they have 5 minutes in which to moan after that they need to shut up or be punched in the face, whichever you think will work best.

Since being diagnosed with cancer I don’t know whether it’s that I haven’t noticed these types of discussions going on of late or people don’t tend to bother me as much with their little niggles when I

ask them how they are. I suppose it’s like a game of top trumps in a way……

Sniffle cold and bad night sleep scores 20

Stage 4 cancer scores 110

I win…. in a strange but rubbish way

Don’t get me wrong I don’t want people to think they can’t tell me how they are feeling nor do I want to be the doom and gloom of every general ‘how are you? ‘discussion. I do know that there are people who have a lot bigger issues than me to deal with. Maybe most people now however think well that worry isn’t so bad and focus on something better for us to talk about instead. I like to think I also don’t moan as much about insignificant things as much since being diagnosed with cancer. I’m not totally sure I’ve not been lucky enough to be on the receiving end of one of my enlightening discussions lately!!!

3. A stronger bond of friendships 

Since being diagnosed with cancer I have been lucky enough to have some fantastic friends that have supported us. These people have seen me at the lowest point in my life, they have literally been by my bed side, at the end of a phone call, sending constant messages of support, been in supply of constant healthy foods, provided childcare when needed it and just been there for a hug when words couldn’t be spoken.

They’ve been there to help me laugh when I didn’t look myself (more at my expense I think but it helped all the same), to bring magazines and books, to bring stupid but thoughtful gifts and also help me escape in a wheelchair for five minutes of fresh air to the front entrance of the hospital ironically surrounded by patients smoking. These friendships are priceless and stronger than ever. I know that these people will always be there no matter what and I will always be there for them in their time of need to hopefully pay back the favour.

4. A stronger bond with family

Since having cancer my relationship with my parents and sister has definitely improved. We hug more, talk more and see each other more. They’re always there to offer a helping hand with a lift to the hospital, looking after the kids, driving me to and from work. They have seen me at my worst visited me nearly every day and spent the night by my bedside in a chair, when at the age of 37 I was too scared to be left alone in the hospital room for another terrifying night. I know for a fact they would sacrifice their home and everything in order to make sure I beat this disease and hopefully I will show them they don’t’ have to. You can’t choose your family but I would choose them hands down.

This too goes for my extended family, my cousins, aunties and uncles. They have been amazing with visits constant supply of green teas and fruits, colouring books (yes colouring books they’re therapeutic I promise). It’s at times like this you feel lucky to have such a big family.

Like I said you can’t choose your family but I did choose my extended family the ‘in laws’ and I’m so glad I did. They have been a constant support with phone calls and messages and visited us to help out quite a few times. My relationship with them is stronger and made me realise we need to make more time to visit them which I intend on doing.

5. A stronger bond with my husband and children

Now I can’t say our relationship is a bed of roses it neither was before I became ill or is now I have cancer. Like any relationship you have to keep on working at it to make it work. Ste has been the one who has probably been affected most by my cancer he has seen me cry uncontrollably on numerous occasions, he’s been to the majority of appointments to hear the whirl wind of news. He’s spent nights visiting in hospital whilst still holding down a job and looking after the kids and slept by my bedside holding my hand when things took a turn for the worse. He’s been the one supporting my food and exercise choices as he knew how important it was to me. He’s been sat on this roller coaster with me whilst in the background having his own fears for our future and my health. His support through all this has helped keep me going and to stay positive. For that I will always be eternally grateful.

We’re definitely stronger individuals from all of this. If we can beat this together and stay strong then we can beat anything we just need to remind ourselves to sometimes just be a couple in spite of everything else going on. See it’s easy to forget sometimes for any busy couple not just to carry on with the day-to-day churn of work, kids, school, sports, appointments etc. You need to make time for each other whether that be a surprise day out, date night, a trip to the cinema, a meal or something as simple as a 5-minute conversation without interruptions from children, the dog peeing on the floor (just mine then), Facebook or barrage of phone calls and texts.

I definitely have a stronger bond with the children. I always make time for them in the evenings. Story times are more special, I’m more appreciative of their work, I try to make weekends and time off work extra special. We hug more and I squeeze them that little bit tighter (don’t worry I stop when they turn blue!). I hope one day when they’re older to understand they realise how proud I am of them and how much they have helped spur me on to beat this disease. I hope one day I too will make them proud.

6. A greater appreciation that life is precious

Since having cancer I’ve realised how fragile and precious life really is. I’ve seen people sadly lose their battles and had worries about losing my own. The truth is cancer or no cancer none of us know how long we will be here for and we need to make the most of it as we only get one chance. Having cancer gave me that wake up call suddenly my life experiences were under pressure and all the things I wanted to do would possibly have to be condensed into a couple of years or never happen. I’m doing my best so that doesn’t happen but in the mean time I take more chances, make the most of the opportunities and just enjoy being round the things a people who make me happy.

I sort of have that ‘fuck it’ what’s the worst that can happen approach whilst still keeping a level head that I am going to be around for a long time to come. For example, I haven’t blown all my life savings on bungee jumps and sky dives or a week in the Caribbean with suitcase full of rum. What I have done is I did the high ropes, started the blog, started kickboxing, I offered to talk about my experiences and I no longer shy away from dancing at the kid’s dance floor. I realised I am stronger than I ever thought I was (see Northern birds are tough), I got brave and learned to have fun with life in the process.

I think those close to me seem to have also took something from this experience. We’ve made more time to see each other, some friends have signed up for their first triathlon and races, some took that course, went for the new job and even entered boxing events!! Maybe cancer was brought into my life so not to waste what I was already lucky enough to have and to make me achieve so much more.

21st September 2017 – The ask

It was the week after my ‘Walk of Hope’ and ten days after my first treatment. I went to work that morning and carried on as normal. In general, I felt fine any tiredness could have been down to my mind working constant overtime. At that time very little people knew so I was still trying to act normal (as normal as I ever was).

I got the train to Bolton and for some reason my Dad was picking me up outside. I got off the train and headed outside. At that point I could hear a few people whispering. When I got outside and waited I then realised they were whispering as Professor Green had just got off the same train as us.

He was waiting outside with two other guys and was stood pretty close to where I was. Ste is a big fan of Professor Green and the likely hood I would ever be in the same location to him is pretty slim. You don’t ask for autographs these days all the cool kids seem to ask for selfies so it was now or never this was my chance. I could feel the rush that I should do something normally I just ignore it then regret it but this time it was different. My subconscious said ‘fuck it’ what’s the worst that can happen.

So, I chirped up in the shakiest, pathetic northern accent you have probably ever heard and said; “Excuse me could I have a selfie for my husband he’s having a bit of a bad time at the moment?”. I couldn’t have been any more of a nerd if I tried. I had the frumpiest clothes I had decided to shove on that day that didn’t happen to need ironing. I was holding a carrier bag for some reason instead of my lap top bag or a hand bag. My hair was a mess and I still had a droopy mouth from my operation a few weeks back but this was the moment I had to go with it.

Professor Green kindly obliged I even told him to take the selfie as I was rubbish plus my arms are that short I’m not sure I would have fit one head in never mind two. But I did it and it wasn’t that bad. I saw the opportunity and I took it. This was the start of something new.

See out of everything I have experienced, cancer has taught me if you see an opportunity grab it with both hands. Don’t let it go to waste. It’s yours for the taking you just have to be brave reach out and the rewards are worth it. Even if you look a fool in the process it’s better than to live with the what if’s.