Facing chemo, I felt the need to be strong. Grateful for all the medical interventions and support, I nevertheless felt the need to retain some element of control, to hold on to my identity and, as far as possible, my sense of humour during the process. Spending a day in a chair requires comfortable clothes, but I chose the brightest shirt I could find - a bright pink silk top. Despite the fact that no-one could see them, I wore my new mastectomy undies in deep pink and the child in me delighted to see that the cold cap also had a matching cover. Ready for the chill, I decided that rather than use a hospital blanket, I would take one my daughter had had as a child - a brightly printed fleece covered in stars and unevenly edged with her first attempt at blanket stitch. With its memories of evenings on the beach and lying in the garden watching the August shooting stars, it felt more like a hug than the anonymous, well laundered hospital blankets. I googled for images that would help and found one of Queen Elizabeth 1st looking regal on to which I superimposed a reminder to myself - 'My body, my cancer', my life' In little ways, these things helped. I felt alive, strong and wrapped in love and memories.
