Nine years ago to the day, cancer came crashing, uninvited, into my life. Barely 40 and married with two young children, it was a crushing blow but there was no choice other than to fight it, beat it, and get on with it.
Fast forward to 2020 and life has changed irrevocably. Then-husband is now an ex, toddler son will soon be 12 and the Barbie-loving 6-year-old will celebrate her sweet 16th at the end of the year. And, me? Well, still standing.
This time of year is never easy. It’s the anniversary of diagnosis and life-changing surgery, and time for the annual check-up and mammogram. There is never the luxury of complacency – always a ‘what if’ lurking in the background.
But it’s important – vital – not to focus on fear or look too far into the future. I have lost many people to cancer – including a dear father – but I refuse to let it define me.
It’s been a rollercoaster but having just received a positive ‘you’re good to go for another year’ from the medics at CUH, there’s little cause for complaint.
Onwards and upwards: I know no other way. Still here, still standing, still kicking (cancer’s) ass.