Vita blog

Cancer can take my boob my lymph nodes my tummy fat and my dignity. But I decided early on in my treatment that if it wanted to take away my chances of becoming a mother it was in for a tough fight.
‘But will you still love me when I’m all bald and mutilated?’ I sobbed to the other half, on learning that I had breast cancer and would need a mastectomy and chemotherapy.
‘I bet you can’t wait to get back to normal’ is one of those things people say to you as you near the end of treatment. To the outsider this seems like a logical step, but when you've been a cancer patient your version of normal is warped beyond recognition.
I had a momentary flashback to the combination of cold weather and central heating failure of 2010 when our boiler began leaking shortly after I returned home yesterday evening.
This time last year, I was just starting a course of radiotherapy for breast cancer and I didn’t really know what to expect. All in all, I found it much more pleasant and less terrifying than chemo, but I still appreciated the tips people gave me, so here’s my advice.
I am writing this on Hogmany, which is traditionally both a time of reflection on the past year’s events and an opportunity to look forward to what is in store for the year ahead.
Life has resumed its niggles, annoyances and real problems but at least I’m fit enough to deal with them again.
I’ve listed a few tips from my own chemo experience that I hope will be beneficial to all. My particular regime (for breast cancer) was called FEC-T and there are many different types but hopefully some of the advice will still apply.
As colourful autumn turns to frosty winter I find it appropriate to reflect on the events of the outgoing season and to welcome in the approach of the activities and festivities ahead.
You’ve heard the Groucho Marx joke that goes: ‘I don’t care to belong to any club that will have me as a member’? I really didn’t want to join the cancer club.