Dear 18-Year-Old Me

Within the blink of an eye another year has passed and I am almost 32! I am beyond grateful to have lived another year on this beautiful planet we call home. Who’d have thought I’d be happy about getting old?!  So far 2019 has been good to me, and my life has changed beyond recognition, having only stepped foot through the doors of Leicester Royal Infirmary a couple of times this year, for a PET CT scan and subsequent results. This is the stuff dreams are made of, and despite multiple daily reminders I am slowly getting used to being free from cancer treatment.

Over the last year I have been fortunate enough to travel a fair bit around America and Thailand; I also visited Cyprus in the autumn and have since been on a couple of city breaks Florence and Vienna, as well as various trips around the UK to Newcastle, Torquay, Nottingham and the Isle of Wight. Right now, it’s not all bad.

I’ve beaten the statistics in so many ways, I almost feel I don’t really deserve to be referred to as a stage 4 patient right now. Melanoma is being treated so differently to five years ago and currently I feel like I’ve been given a golden ticket and a chance of freedom.

Three years ago I was in hospital, having had surgery to remove a tumour from my bowel for the second time. I managed to get discharged the night before my birthday, but the celebrations passed me by that year. Five years ago I also spent my birthday in hospital, at the time I was admitted to St George’s Hospital in Tooting, South London for suspected appendicitis. It turned out to be my first bowel tumour, and I remained in hospital for ten days before being admitted to Leicester for emergency surgery. In July, once I’d recovered from the operation I began receiving Pembrolizumab in hospital every three weeks.

Who knows how the next year will go? At the moment it feels very promising, but nothing will ever be certain. With it also being Melanoma Awareness Month, I started to think what advice would I give to me pre cancer 18-year-old self if I could write them a letter about what was to come over the next 14 years.

Inspiration for this letter is taken from the 2011 video ‘Dear 16-Year-Old Me’ by the David Cornfield Melanoma Fund.

Dear 18-year-old me: A letter to my younger self.

Congratulations for making it this far! This is a big year; far bigger and more challenging than you will have ever known before. Some fantastic things will happen this year; you’ll pass your exams, your driving test (at last!) and go on a fun girls holiday. Despite this, you’re going to have a lot of shit to deal with other the next few years, so don’t sweat the small stuff.

When you hear the words ‘you have cancer’ and find out It’s stage 1 melanoma, please don’t panic. Its not nearly as bad as it seems (for now anyway). Melanoma is a type of skin cancer, It develops from skin cells called melanocytes. The mole you had removed from your neck was melanoma – A key piece of advice – don’t ever go to hospital appointments on your own again!

The next 12 months won’t work out the way you would have liked, you must remember not everyone’s path is the same. I know a gap year seems like the last thing you want right now, but it’ll all work out in the end. You didn’t want to go to university in Scotland anyway! Stop comparing yourself to your peers, it won’t help. All good things comes to those who wait, right?

The small scar from you mole removal will become a lot bigger, and more prominent. People will ask you about it; but don’t let it get to you. They won’t know how to react to your story and this won’t really change over the next decade. Embrace university life, believe it or not this part will be the calmest and least stressful of all.

You’ll find out you have stage 4 melanoma at 23, but you can handle it. You’re tougher than you think. It’s not an immediate death sentence despite what you’re told.

You will recover from major brain surgery, and lung surgery too. It’s a lot to take on, but your vision won’t be affected permanently, it’s always been bad anyway! Once you’ve had you lung tumour removed it’ll be seriously painful, but you’ll be able to breathe and walk properly again. A short post-surgery cropped hair cut will actually suit you. Thank Emma Watson for the hair cut inspiration!

Your life will be so so mentally draining and physically tough, but you will get there. Listen to your body and be kind to yourself.

Your friends won’t disown you because you are ill; it turns out this brings you closer together. You’ll still laugh with them like you did before cancer stole your freedom. You’re driving licence won’t be revoked forever, it’s not the end of the world. You will drive and have your own car again in a few years! Your friends will visit you when you are unwell and give you an excuse to get outside. Eventually, you will go back to work; you could’ve done with a bit more time off but you were being stubborn. Remember, part-time work is the way forward, don’t be fooled, only stupid people work full time!

Embrace your down time, you’re going to need it. Post brain surgery chronic fatigue will plague you for two years, but you will eventually get a handle on it. All will be relatively clam for the next few years and despite what it seems, your oncologist is capable of giving you good news as well as bad.

You will make a lot of new friends over the next few years who don’t care that you have cancer. It’s not what they see when they look at you, so please make sure to keep reminding yourself of that.

Like a boomerang, melanoma will come back again, this time in your bowels. Sadly it felt inevitable and you knew that. Try to embrace your scars, they tell you story of survival. You must remember that you cannot blame anyone or anything, it’s not your fault you have cancer. Anyone who tries to tell you differently can do one because they aren’t worth knowing.

When you start systemic treatment you will loose your hair, much of the confidence you’d built back up will be lost again. People will treat you differently now they can see you’re unwell. It won’t last forever, other treatments are been developed and believe it or not you’ll only wear a wig for two and a half years before you hair grows back. It sounds like a really long time, but just like your driving license it’s not forever.

You’ll feel close to death numerous times. You’ll write your will because you are sensible; cancer didn’t change that. You’ll have a lot of different treatments over the next four and a half years and by some miracle you’ll survive. You spend time  learning about treatments and how to pronounce words you’d never heard of  before. The NHS is incredible, be thankful. Always.

Eventually you’ll find the strength to tell you own story, and not feel so ashamed. You’ll write a blog, and be interviewed in magazines and on television to help raise awareness of skin cancer. Your story will inspire others so keep going. Talk to someone when you need to, its not a sign of failure or weakness. Just do what you need to do to get through the days / weeks / months and years living with this illness. Do all you can to raise awareness of melanoma and the important charities that have helped you along the way.

Stop worrying about what other people think and be yourself. You’ll make it to at least 32 and be alive for so many moments you thought you would miss. Tell people to cover up in the sun, repeat it over and over again and don’t stop; never ever apologies for it.

Just Live!

Melanoma Awareness Month

May is Melanoma Awareness Month, so I thought I would take an opportunity to write about the signs and symptoms. After all, it is the reason I write this blog in the first place.

For those who might not be aware, I was diagnosed with Stage 4 melanoma in September 2010 at the age of 23, having originally been diagnosed with Stage 1 melanoma five years earlier when I was 18. I am almost 32 and have been living with cancer the whole of my adult life. I initially began my blog to share my story and raise awareness, and since then I have appeared in numerous campaigns for cancer charities, featured in a BBC documentary A Time To Live and told my story in the Daily Mail’s You Magazine. I never have, and never will be a sun seeker, but my experience goes to show there is no discrimination when it comes to getting cancer.

When I was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer, everything felt very out of my control and I felt all my independence was taken away from me. Looking on the bright side, I’ve now been living with my diagnosis for almost 9 years, and in some ways I am stronger than ever. The experience has shaped my whole life, so unsurprisingly I talk and write about it a lot. I struggle with the mental and physical of my diagnosis on a daily basis and are a constant reminder of what I have been through.

Melanoma is a type of cancer that develops in the cells (melanocytes) that produce melanin, the pigment that gives skin its natural colour. Melanin helps to protect the body from UV radiation from the sun. According to the NHS website melanoma is the fifth most common cancer in the UK and there are around 13,500 new cases of melanoma are diagnosed each year. Stats also suggest that more than 2,000 people die every year in the UK from advanced melanoma, which is higher than I expected, although I’ve always been told not to look at the numbers.

Melanoma is caused by skin cells that begin to develop abnormally. Exposure to ultraviolet (UV) light from the sun is thought to cause most melanomas, but there’s also evidence to suggest that some may result from sunbed exposure too. In 2018, Melanoma UK launched a petition for the ban on sunbeds in the UK after a successful ban of commercial sunbeds in Australia. The skin is the bodies largest organ so it’s important to take care of it as best we can. The charity also recommend regular self examinations can help lead to an early diagnosis and in turn increase chances of successful treatment.

The most common sign of melanoma is the appearance of a new mole or a change in an existing mole which can occur anywhere on the body. In my case, I had a suspicious mole removed form my neck in 2005. The NHS website has a handy guide on what to look out for which is detailed below.

ABCDE

  • Asymmetry – the two halves of the area may differ in shape
  • Border – the edges of the area may be irregular or blurred, and sometimes show notches
  • Colour – this may be uneven. Different shades of black, brown and pink may be seen
  • Diameter – most melanomas are at least 6mm in diameter. Report any change in size, shape or diameter to your doctor
  • Elevation or enlargement – some melanomas increase in size and may then become raised above the surface of the skin. Sometimes the mole can remain the same size and the area around or under it can appear to swell.

Follow Melanoma UK on twitter to find out more about Melanoma Awareness Month. It’s not ‘just’ skin cancer.

Confidently Speaking About Cancer

It seems that for the most part I can write blog posts about my feelings, even speak on national television about my cancer journey, but often when It comes to smaller settings, or even a one-to-one, I clam up and become emotional. Having cancer has affected my confidence in so many ways, it varies each day depending on how I am feeling.

I can struggle to express things to friends and family, often just opting for telling people I am ok, but I don’t mind frequently sharing my thoughts online for anyone who wants to read. I don’t quite understand why I react in this way. Perhaps because some forms of sharing feel like the are more for the ‘greater good’, and could help others as well as myself, so somehow feels more worthwhile. In some ways I feel more detached from my story, but if an individual asks me about my hospital visits, even if I know them really well, I start forming tears almost instantly. My confidence levels can change daily, I certainly don’t feel confident when I am having my treatment on the chemo suite surrounded by lots of other unfortunate people. During one of my recent visits I had what I would describe as a breakdown moment. sitting in the chair waiting for my drugs to arrive I became overwhelmed with negative thoughts and burst into tears. Life is unfair, it really is, I needed a good cry that day, but no amount of crying will change my situation. One of the nurses kindly pulled the curtain around the area I was sitting (not that a flimsy blue curtain is at all soundproof) and went to get and get my mum who was in the waiting room.

A friend asked me a few months ago if I had considered filming a blog or starting a podcast, but the idea scares me much more than writing things down. With a vlog or podcast it is different; I feel I would be judged in so many other ways, and feel as though I wouldn’t have anything new to say. What if no one watches it except my parents, and, if people do, I fear it won’t be interesting or engaging enough. Vlogging or creating a podcast seems like a bigger investment somehow. Who really wants to know what I did on a day off? I also don’t like the sound of my own voice; it is my voice however, and it isn’t going to change, so I should just be comfortable with it. I also have a lot of scars, including a particularly huge one of my neck form my original melanoma site, so the thought of creating a video where I am the subject feels strange to me. When Sue Bourne and he team filmed me for A Time To Live they followed me around for a few days, I got to know the small crew and felt secure with them. I still think I look odd and slightly uncomfortable on camera though!

If someone was asked to describe me I’m not sure what they would say; in some ways I’m confident, but in other ways I feel cancer has crushed my confidence and I can’t move forward. On the outside I seem fine, but on the inside it can be a different story. My fear with vlogging would be that others would be hoping to see a happy person or hear encouraging words on how to be powerful and strong and brave, but I often don’t feel that way. People want to see positive stories, but what if I can’t give that? Not every day is a good day, I try to muddle though as best I can.

I’m often happy with my own company, or having the house to myself for a night, but cancer is a lonely place, and I don’t think I benefit from having down time, as it’s gives me too much room to think. Towards the end of 2017 I felt I was in a dark place and was prescribed antidepressants which I’ve now been taking for over six months. This has helped take the edge of and feel like I can still get through a day unscathed. Often, if I am around people I trust and love I can be the most chatty person in the room, but put me in front of  new people and it is a different story all together and my confidence is non existent. Ultimately I am just me and I should accept it, but cancer has changed me forever in so many ways, and I can’t go back to the younger, carefree, drama student version of myself.

Life Through A Lens 

Recently I’ve been witness to how much of our lives are governed by social media, from Instagram, Facebook and Twitter to Snapchat and Instagram stories. More often we are living our lives through a lens and my guess is we are probabaly all guilty of oversharing at times, myself included. Sometimes I use apps like Instagram out of habit and I don’t even think about it, I’m not even going on there to look at anything specific.

I frequently enjoy sharing elements of my life online alongside my blog, and in doing so it’s helped me feel less like the odd one out, I’m not the only one living the lonely cancer life. Writing my blog and creating social media platforms has opened up a lot of new opportunities for me, from my television debut to writing guest blogs for Huffington Post UK and The Lewis Foundation,  as well as finding out about the work of other charities I wouldn’t have heard of before. I’ve also been in touch with other melanoma patients who I wouldn’t have connected with otherwise. I do however feel a temporary break is much needed.

The use social media seems like it’s at an all time high, gone are the days of hotmail email accounts, MySpace and MSN messenger,  being part of the millennial tribe means that everyone is quick to share photos and videos of their lives at a click of a button. I’m also guilty of this, I mean who wants the FOMO?! (aka the fear of missing out for those that are less social media savvy). When I was diagnosed with a brain tumour in 2010 I took myself off Facebook for almost a year, and  didn’t have any problems staying in touch with friends, so it might be nice to go back to basics for a few days. The more I think about it the more I am glad to have grown up on the cusp of the social media revolution. 

It would seem that doing multiple activities in a day is commonplace when I look over Instagram profiles. It could be that it is partly the profiles I chose to follow, but I don’t want to be made to feel guilty that I’ve eaten copious amounts of maltesers, or that haven’t made every meal I’ve eaten during the week from scratch because I’ve had treatment that week. Even on a regular week I wouldn’t be cooking every night. I feel like what I see on online is often unrealistic, unless being a blogger is your full time job it just doesn’t work like that. Social media can make me feel like I’m doing something wrong, and the pressure to be part of the crowd and be constantly active can feel too much. I don’t want to be made to feel like an outsider if I have had a few duvet days and not bothered going to the gym. This pressure comes in waves and I’m sure it’s something which like others I will continue to experience now and again, but I would like to create some sort of distance. My lifestyle is not picture perfect by any means, but I still have a really good life. Even if my life isn’t going to be a long one I know that I’m fortunate to be well at the moment, perhaps I should focus on that whilst on my way to my next day trip destination rather than mindlessly scrolling through Twitter and not paying any particular attention to what is on the screen.

Over the past week or so I’ve spent the best part a whole day in bed watching trash tv, and another full day receiving treatment at hospital in the chemotherapy suite, but who really wants to know I’m doing absolutely nothing? Social media tends to focus on the highlights, but not every day is the same. I chose not to show images of me in hospital for a number of reasons; it makes me feel uncomfortable and I don’t want a lasting image to remember it by, It won’t be something I forget easily. My immunotherapy is ongoing therefore I won’t be posting a picture of myself holding a sign declaring my final treatment has been completed, or one declaring how many years I have been in remission. I’m happy for those that do experience that, it must be an incredible feeling. I can’t help but feel sad when I look at these images, because it will never be me.

Having a break doesn’t mean that I am quitting anything permamently, just a temporary break to help refocus and allow me to take back some control of my life and think about other positives I have going on. I hope that a break will help me get things in order, such as my sleep pattern and overall productivity. I can certainly procrastinate if I want to, so I’m going to take a step back from posting online for a week and see how I feel afterwards. Wish me luck!

My Fifteen Minutes Of Fame

Since A Time To Live aired on BBC Two last month I have been overwhelmed by the response from family and friends as well as members of the general public. I’m really glad I took part in the documentary and feel all the stories were really well thought out; it was joyful and touching at the same time, and remained true to life throughout. I hope it may help others who might be in a similar situation to me.

A short clip of my story appeared on the BBC News Facebook Page shortly after A Time To Live aired, and within 24 hours it had been viewed a staggering 1 million times. Yes, 1 million! Currently the viewing figure stands at 1.2 million. It’s crazy to think my story has been seen that many times and shared by total strangers all over the world. The feedback on the whole has been overwhelmingly positive. As I mentioned in one of my last blog posts, Not An Average Morning the decision to take part wasn’t always easy, and isn’t something I would have considered this time last year. Personally I believe that in some ways part of a healing journey and a great step forward for me, helping to distance myself from a lot of negativity surrounding my illness.

I originally decide to start writing about my experiences with Stage IV melanoma for the following reasons.

1) Many people that I know said I should, because it may be therapeutic, and help me to be less angry and upset about the situation I am in.

2) There didn’t seem to be many other people out there doing the same thing.

3) I had never encountered a single person of around the same age who has the same type cancer as me, or even any form of cancer.

4) It would a great opportunity to raise awareness of melanoma.

In the six months since I began writing and filmed my part in the BBC documentary I am proud to say that I have achieved all or part of the above objectives. I’ve had various messages from people over the past few weeks, from old school friends to complete strangers. I’ve had emails, handwritten letters, Facebook messages and telephone calls. I even had a delivery of flowers to my work from a local lady who wanted to wish me a happy birthday. She said my story touched her and wanted to tell me I was inspiring. I haven’t done anything specific, I’ve just been honest about my feelings to a big audience. The kindness of strangers is incredible, and its great to feel my story has resonated with so many others. Last week I was leaving work a lunchtime and a woman who past me in the street stopped me and said she’d recognised me from the film, and proceeded to tell me how great I was. I’ve never received so many compliments, it has been a glimpse of what it must feel like to be famous.

Prior to the film airing I had been feeling very nervous, however I’ve now had my fifteen minutes of fame, and it wasn’t nearly as scary as I thought it would be. Actually, it has been pretty cool. I’m no one special, and there are plenty of other people having an equally rubbish time, but with all the madness happening in the world right now it is nice to see something having a positive impact. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone for the lovely messages of kindness and support, apologies if I haven’t got back to anyone directly, it has been a hectic few weeks. I want to take this opportunity to send love to all those reading this, weather you have been personally affected by cancer or not I really appreciate it. I  honestly cannot put it into words exactly what it means to feel such love and support.

Back in the real world I have a PET CT scan coming up in a couple of weeks so I am hoping for stable results. There will never be a time when I don’t worry and loose sleep about this, I am only human after all. This is the bit that gets no easier not matter how much times passed. You’d think that after nearly seven years as a Stage 4 patient I would be used to it. I am trying to not to loose my mind whilst I wait for the next few weeks to run their course. I have another European adventure panned and plenty of work activity to keep my mind occupied, I also went on a long walk this morning to get some fresh air and am feeling better already.

Not An Average Morning 

This week has undoubtedly been one of the strangest weeks of my life. I began with treatment in hospital, part of my normal routine. Tuesday was followed by a live interview on This Morning on ITV with none other than Holly and Phil, and a double show day at the theatre. The BBC docoumentaty I participated in, A Time To Live aired on Wednesday evening on BBC2. I flew to Prague on Wednesday morning to visit friends prior to the film going out, so all in all it’s been a bit of a whirlwind. 

After filming my interviews for A Time To Live last October I put all thoughts about it on the back burner, and they only resurfaced a couple of weeks ago when the air date was confirmed. In a way I’m glad that I was out of the country, as I might have found if difficult watching with others. My section features cameo appearances from both my work colleagues and school friends, but I’m glad I watched it on my own, seeing the whole thing come together felt like a really big accomplishment.

I was lucky enough to be asked by the BBC press office if I’d be interesting in taking part in an interview on the This Morning sofa with Holly and Phil with Annabel, another participant from the documentary. Certainly not an average Tuesday morning activity! 

It’s true, the prestenters are lovely in real life and made me feel at ease despite my nerves. I can’t believe I actually went on live television, I was panicking I would get tounge tied and say something wrong. One of my friends joked that I should make sure I let the presenters get a word in! I can talk a lot but I don’t think television interviews come naturally, this is why I am not a performer after all. It could be that,  or maybe it’s the lack of talent. 

Having been to TV studios before for work it’s something I’m familiar with but I’m always impressed with the organisation of everyone to keep things running so seamlessly. Usually I am the person arranging interviews for others rather than being interviewed myself, so I’ve experienced the other side of the PR industry. It was a nice treat to get my makeup done before my big moment, I wouldn’t mind that more often. 

Sue Bourne from Wellpark Productions and her whole team have created a beautiful film about living on borrowed time and I am really proud to have been a part of it. The reception has been great, people have sent some really lovely tweets and messages which is surreal but also amazing to know that it’s had an impact on others. It seems a lot of people have found comfort and positivity in watching it. I know if I wasn’t part of it, the film would be the type of documentary I’d watch. 

If you missed it, A Time To Live is now available to watch on BBC iplayer in the U.K. 

Thoughts On Turning 30 With The Big C

This blog post, Thoughts On Turning 30 With The Big C was originally written for Huffington Post UK and posted to coincide with the release of BBC documentary A Time to Live

This month marks a very special occasion, my birthday. Not just any birthday: I turn thirty towards the end of the month. Although some people of my age may shudder at the thought of leaving their twenties behind, I am truly grateful to be able to experience the next decade. There were several points over the past few years when I did not think that I was going to make it. At one point my 25th birthday seemed unlikely to occur. Of course like most twenty-somethings, I am not going to pretend that it has been an easy ride; these have been the most challenging years of my life. Let us just say getting cancer wasn’t on my top of my ‘Top Things To Do Before I turn 30 list’, and as the years progress it is unlikely that life will get any easier. I was initially diagnosed with stage 4 Melanoma in 2010. Since then, I have had tumours removed from my lung and brain as well as two from my bowel. For the last two and half years I have also been the recipient of various different types of systemic treatment. 

A diagnosis such as this means that I can never be cured. It is a case of having treatment to try and alleviate any symptoms and stay alive for as long as possible. I will never be cancer free. My family and friends have had such a significant impact on my recovery, as have the many extraordinary health care professionals who have kept me alive for so long. I believe one of the main reasons that I am here today is because of my positive attitude and that of other people around me. 

In one sense I feel that although I am turning thirty, I am missing out on the whirlwind of mortgages, marriages and typical adulthood. I am not hitting any of traditional milestones expected at my age, I am certainly not the leader of the pack in that domain. Whilst my friends continue to be busy getting engaged, married or having children, I will be spending the first year of my thirties doing the same thing that I have been for the past six and a half years, fighting Melanoma. 

I have my up and downs, there are times when I cannot help think about what could have been, and how my life might have played out, but the truth is I am just happy to be getting older at all. Having cancer means there is no pressure on me to achieve the same objectives as my peers. I have not been travelling or settled down, and I have zero money in savings, I do not work full time, but that is fine since I have cancer to deal with, which is a time consuming job in itself. One that nobody wants.

People have asked what my plans are for the big day, and whether I am going to throw a party to celebrate. The truth is that since my diagnosis I have not really been interested in drinking, dancing, late nights, crowds, loud music or close personal attention, so I do not think it is really for me. I was probably never a fan of those sort of events anyway, and fatigue is a huge issue, so at least having cancer gives me grounds for a good excuse rather than saying ‘it’s just not my thing’.

For me, there are some very different events that have been a cause for celebration, such as the development of new drugs that might help fight Melanoma, and in turn give me the opportunity for more candles on a birthday cake. It is often about the personal successes, such as getting my driving license back after being revoked on medical grounds, a quick recovery from major bowel surgery, or a stable PET CT scan result. It is not a midlife crisis that I am about to hit, in fact it is the opposite. According to headed hospital paper, I am doing really well and I hope that may continue well into my thirties. It might not be what the teenage version of me predicted, but I make do with what I have got. 

As I have grown older I have realised that I need more help that ever before. When I go to hospital for treatment, I get upset and agitated and often regress about 15 years, turning into a stroppy teenager. At least I will always be remembered for being young at heart.
Until you have known what it is to stand at death’s door, and looked over your shoulder to visualise the past, you have not really experienced what it is like to really appreciate life.
It has been difficult to find the words to describe how grateful I am for the life I have been given. I am still here, and I hope for many more celebrations to come. 

Don’t they say life begins at thirty?

A Time To Live 

In October last year I was one of twelve participants interviewed for a documentary about people living with a terminal illness. The documentary, A Time to Live explores the question​ of​ what would you do if you were told you had a terminal diagnosis and may only have months to live?

​For so long I’ve had to face the uncertainty of a Stage 4 cancer diagnosis. I often wonder Why me? Why now? Did I contributed to this? Did I do something wrong? Is there a way I can change the final outcome?

​I haven’t yet fully accepted my diagnosis, and I don’t think I ever will. For me, this something that is an ongoing struggle to accept, but I’m determined to take something positive from it all. This is partly why I started a blog after all.

Blogging is ​a process which ​has helped me be more open about my feelings, and I believe it has also helped my friends and family have a clearer understanding of how I feel about my life ans all its challenges. I also hope my writing has helped other people who may be in similar shoes. For such a long time I thought I was on my own, it turns out thanks to the World Wide Web that I am not. There are plenty of other people, both young and old going through an equally challenging time who are also living their life to the fullest. Isn’t that what you would do?

During the filming I talked about my thoughts and feelings on having cancer and how I deal with the knowledge I have a limited time left on this earth. At 29 It is often hard to believe that my impending death will be much sooner than others. I have no control on the outcome and when that might happen. Do I wish I didn’t know? Yes.

A few years ago I would never have dreamed of being involved with a charity such as Trekstock or being part of something so public as a documentary​. Participanting in this  has allowed me to talk about my diagnosis in such an open way. I may have a drama degree but I am very much a behind the scenes type person! I spend my time organising interviews for others rather than being the one who gets interviewed. My friends and I frequently send documentary recommendations to each other, so it feels bizarre to on the other side of things, Its the sort of thing I would tune in to watch​! alongside programmes such as 24 Hours in A&E, Child of Our Time and anything Louis Theroux does (who doesn’t love a bit of Louis).

The documentary crew filmed me having my eyebrows tattooed and hanging out with some of my friends as well as filming me at work. Its these seemingly ordinary activities which have helped keep me sane, especially since starting active treatment in September 2015. Cancer has became my whole life, not just an inconvenient visit to the hospital every three months, but something that effects my life every single day. I am however a glass half full person, and I hope this comes across in the film.

On that note I’ll shortly be heading away for a few days to Prague, while I still have time to live! Please do tune in if you can, I’m sure it’ll be interesting viewing. You can watch my TV debut A Time to Live on BBC2 on Wednesday 17 May at 9pm. There is also extended footage available on The Open University website.

Huge thanks to Sue and the amazing team that put it together.