Month: December 2014

Breast cancer lesson 172: Christmas miracles do exist!

After friends hailing last Christmas’ engagement (after 13 years together) as a true ‘Christmas miracle’, I am delighted to report I am the welcome recipient of yet another one.

Today, on my official ‘lumpiversary’, my body has decided to celebrate by starting its first period since the start of treatment. Not something I thought I’d ever celebrate – or even talk about publically – this news is the best present those of us who have undergone chemo and risked infertility could hear.

Cancer takes a lot of things, but it I said at the very beginning, if it wanted to take away my chances of being a mother, it was in for a tough fight. But whatever happens in the future, even more exciting is the fact that this 33-year-old body is, at last, fed up of acting like it’s about 62.

Today is the day I reclaim my body and femininity, and that makes it a great day!

I write this for every woman facing or undergoing chemotherapy and hoping that one day soon, they too will smile in face of a packet of tampax. It took 20 weeks from the end of chemo, but it happened. All I hope is that, if you’re reading this and hoping, it will happen for you too.

There is hope for us all.

Let’s just hope the cramps are kind!

Merry Christmas one and all!

Breast cancer lesson 171: Here’s to the Christmas that changed my life

Christmas Eve is one of my favourite days of the year. If I’m hosting, it’s a day in the kitchen cooking ham, whizzing up brandy butter and enjoying a Christmas movie marathon. And, if I’m not, it’s a long walk in the park, it’s chain tea drinking, and a couple of slices of chocolate log. It’s a day that is, in many ways, so simple. A day that doesn’t have to be anything in particular. It’s a day that never lets me down.

For those of you who have followed my journey from the beginning, you’ll know that’s it’s also the day I discovered a lump in my right breast in the shower (making this Christmas Eve my one-year lumpiversary). You could argue it was the day that ruined Christmas, poured cold water on the engagement that happened just a day later (after 13 years together) and cast a heavy shadow over 2014. But, you know what, that’s not how I remember it. Christmas Eve 2013 saved my life.

When I was sat in front on a fire with my parents just a few days before, I talked about the future, I talked about the fact that I had come to accept that I may never get married and may never have a child to call my own. I had been so focused on the next of life’s big landmarks that I had forgotten to enjoy and cherish the life I woke up to every day. That day, I decided I may not lead a conventional life – and that was fine. It didn’t, however, stop me popping open the champagne on Christmas Day and toasting a 2014 I thought would be filled with table planning, venue hunting and dress shopping.

When I look back, I know I thought Christmas Day was the day that had changed the course of my life. Truth is, however, it doesn’t even come close. While we have decided to recreate the whole event this Christmas (we still have the champagne so it would be a crime not to), I know I won’t be toasting a day one day in the future (2017 if Duncan wins the debate). No, I will be toasting Duncan for being the partner I want to wake up to and laugh with every day. I will be toasting my mum and dad and all they have done – and continue to do – for me. I will be toasting the friends that have made room for me in their lives and their thoughts. I will be toasting the charities – Willow, Breast Cancer Care, Younger Breast Cancer Network, CoppaFeel, Macmillan and the Haven – that supported me and that now fill me with such joy as I work to support them. I will be toasting my body, for being strong and letting the memories fade. I will be toasting the life I have now – a life that Cancer forced me to see – not the life I thought I wanted.

Tomorrow, I won’t be sad, I will be thankful. Thankful that I am here to cook another ham. Thankful that I have the chance to pull another cracker. And thankful that the future Duncan gifted to me 14 years ago when he decided to take a chance on me (not the future he promised me last year) is the future I am around to enjoy. The greatest gift of all is life and it is a gift I will never take for granted again.

Merry Christmas to you all. As you turn to a diet of mince pies and crisps and reflect on the year you’ve had, I don’t want you to think about all the things that didn’t work out this year or all the times life didn’t go your way. I want you to think about the fantastic memories and the moments (however little) that no challenge, serious illness or crisis in the future will ever be able to take away from you.

Raise a glass to health, happiness and the people that make you smile.

Because that’s all you’ll ever really need.

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Breast cancer lesson 170: Tis the season to wear winter hats

It seems only fitting that my hair should be entering its ‘elfin’ phase as the season of advent begins. Anyone who knows me well knows that Christmas is my favourite time of year, so I am delighted that I don’t just have hair, but I also look the part. It isn’t yet in need of a cut, but for the first time in a long time, I don’t look like a sick person. And, you know what? That’s a great feeling.

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People keep asking me whether I am going to go back to the basic bob I sported for a good six years. The answer? Absolutely not. While I think I need a little more up top so that Duncan stops calling me ‘boy’, I don’t think it will be too long before I am declaring my hairdo an official style. I would never have taken the risk and cut it this short had I not been forced into it. But, now I don’t think I’ll ever grow it long again. Wash and wear is something everyone should try!

It may sound strange, but when I look in the mirror and see my nearly-cropped-but-not-quite hair, I see a side to me I actually quite like. It’s a side of me that’s strong. It’s a side of me that knows how to fight. It’s a side of me that isn’t afraid to face the opposition in front of me. It’s still a little vulnerable and sensitive, but it’s a face that says if I can take on death, I can take on anything. And, now that I am firmly rooted back in the real life, it’s a face of which I need to be reminded.

There is another plus side to having short hair, however, that I hadn’t fully appreciated until now and the beginnings of what I call winter. With less than an inch on my head, even the hot flushes can’t stop me from feeling the cold. That’s why this weekend, I stepped out in my first ever winter hat that isn’t a bobble hat or knitted beret. Yes, with no pom pom in sight, it was just me and a winter cloche-style number. It’s not a hairloss hat. It’s a high street hat that I have the confidence to wear because of hair loss. Because, let’s face it, if you can rock bald, no other headwear will ever really raise an eyebrow!

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The furry addition to my wardrobe is yet to make it off the coat hook, but I am excited to have progressed from tea cosy to something with shape!

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I appreciate this isn’t particularly cancer-related, but after having had so much fun with Breast Cancer Care’s Headstrong service and enjoyed a summer season of head wear, I felt winter needed its moment in the spotlight. I am still in my summer scarf and coat, so hat wearing does constitute news in my book.

Talking of Breast Cancer Care, I have just enjoyed my first ever carol service in London – and what a wonderful service it was! Candlelight, beautiful singing, lovely speeches and even a tasty mulled wine and mince pie. It was on my brighter life list and I am delighted to have ticked it off!

Thank you to this amazing charity for the most magical start to advent I have ever had!

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