Today it feels as if I am coming up for air after what has undoubtedly been the hardest, darkest week of my treatment so far.
The physical and mental impact of round three of chemotherapy has been significantly worse than the first two, and has ...
This morning we made the final cut.
Stroking my back as I sat hunched over the bath, sobbing quietly, Rob gently shaved off the last of my patchy hair, taking it down to the tender scalp.
It was a much needed step, and a relief in many ways. Over t...
"Will I lose my hair?" is apparently the most common first question people ask when told they need chemotherapy.
It wasn't mine. I automatically assumed that I would and in the grand scheme of gigantic things to get my head around post-diagnosis, fr...
Tomorrow, I start chemotherapy and, quite honestly, I am scared. I have just come off my pre-chemo phone consultation in which a very chirpy specialist nurse revisited the incredibly lengthy catalogue of potential and likely side effects and some of ...
"Pick your battles wisely" goes the saying.
And so, in pursuit of wisdom, I choose not to wage a militaristic campaign against cancer. I am not at war. I am not battling it, or fighting it.
The words we use are important in defining how ...
