Cancer took my breast. It took my hair. It took my ability to enjoy spicy foods and wear low cut tops. Cancer took my lymph nodes and sensation in my upper left arm. It took my periods (not all bad) and my sex drive. It ruined my nails. I usually don’t get through a week without throwing up or a stomach explosion.

Cancer took my job. My choice to return to teaching, maybe part-time to fit around the kids. My chance to flourish in a career, for promotion once the girls are older. The opportunity to earn my own money. Something to talk about other than cancer when people ask about my week. Getting into bed tired but having contributed something. There will be no fake self-effacing comments about being so very busy for me.

Cancer took my sense of self. The ability to feel worth it. I used to have a cleavage, be good at breastfeeding, able to procreate. Now when you see me you see my illness first. You’re amazed I’m out of bed and still smiling. My children talk about my boobie, me going to hospital, me being sick in bed. My family looks at me with a sympathetic head tilt.

Cancer robbed me of enjoying my daughter as a toddler. 18 months old when I was diagnosed, she won’t remember me before cancer. Her toddler months were a blur of chemo, radiotherapy and surgery. I had to stay away from playgroup.

But, here’s the thing, cancer. You’ve taken all this, but you are not taking me. Actually, I’m not done yet if you don’t mind. I’m just getting started.

Please check out this charity advocating for metastatic patients like me

https://metupuk.org.uk/