This isn’t just another cancer blog, or a blog about how crazy but fabulous motherhood is. It’s about growing up disabled, about waiting forty years for your perfect life to begin, to almost have it snatched away by discovering you have incurable cancer. It’s about living while the world seems to think you shouldn’t be, when getting through the day can be a struggle, and, about how, just by existing, you are proving a point.
I could fill this blog with horror stories of growing up disabled. The doctors who said I would never learn to read. The teacher who refused to have me in his class. The neighbours who would not let their children walk to school with me. The peers who laughed when it was my turn in Spin The Bottle. The exes who told me they were only with me because they felt sorry for me. The family and friends who assumed I’d struggle and never considered how receiving help might affect my self-esteem.
And then, cancer. This is easier to talk about! I’m part of an accepted club with a hugely sympathetic audience. I can actually be disabled now! A can of worms slowly opens.
These Boobs Were Made For Talking 