Scan Results And Festive Freedom

Yesterday I received results from my last PET CT and MRI scans and I’m relieved to say that the results were good and everything continues to be stable.

After getting over the Scanxiety, I was feeling somewhat confident that the results would be stable, however the worry is never too far from my mind. Hopefully this means I can relax a little over the Christmas and New Year period.

I am fortunate enough to be having a chemo break and am not due back to see the oncology team at my hospital in Leicester for another six week. In my 2 and a half years of receiving Pembrolizumab this is a rare occurrence, and one I am especially grateful for at this time of year, fingers crossed this will be a blissful time of freedom over the festive period.

I haven’t written a blog post since The Truth About Depression three weeks ago. Part of me has been living in purgatory waiting to get my scans over and done with, and the other part has felt like I’ve not really got anything more to say. I haven’t suddenly snapped out of my downward spiral, but I am taking more steps to try and help myself.

I have now had my 41st cycle of Pembrolizumab and the fatigue seems to be hitting me more than ever. Lucky I have been working from home and resting which always helps, but powering through never feels like an option when it comes to post treatment tiredness. This is something I didn’t appreciate before I started having Pembrolizumab. A while back I wrote a post called Tired of Being Tired, which summarised my feelings on being physically and mentally exhausted. After reading it back, I feel the same as I did back then, annoyingly getting used to it doesn’t make me feel any less exhausted.

Exhaustion comes in waves, and when it hits it seems to affect my energy levels straight away. There is something about being in a hospital waiting room which makes me feel so sleepy, even with all the alarms and buzzers going off every few minutes. Having the treatment itself makes me become a total zombie, and I often struggle for a few days afterwards, making small things such as walking up the stairs or packing a bag seem like a huge struggle. I don’t trust myself to drive after chemo as my judgement certainly isn’t what it should be. I long to feel free and full of energy again, so perhaps having a treatment break over Christmas is exactly what I need.

A couple of people have asked me if I planned to celebrate my stable scans results. A few years ago I used to mark them as more of an occasion, but I honestly don’t think about them as a moment to jump up and down for joy. Nowadays I am too scared of what the future holds and I’ve been feeling particularly vulnerable over the past couple of months.

Of course I am so grateful to be in this position, even if living with cancer does take its toll, but I prefer to try and reset my mindset to one that isn’t in complete panic mode. I want to try and look forward to the next few months rather than just celebrate one moment. Hopefully I will feel less like I’m holding a poisoned chalice and perhaps as though I am holding a glass half full instead.

Fingers crossed for more good news in 2019. Until then I need to go back to sleep, rest and try to fight off a cold I think is coming my way as I’m a bit under the weather.

Living With Scanxiety

My next PET CT scan date is looming and my major fears about the future have reared their ugly head once again.

Scanxiety is a term used to describe the anxious feelings that arise in the time leading up to an imaging scan, during the scan and whilst waiting for the results to check for disease progression. I’ve read about the term a lot over the past few years as it’s frequently referred to within the cancer community.

Over the last eight years I’ve had countless scans; MRI scans, CT scans and PET CT to name a few. Each come with their own levels of stress and anxiety, especially since my hospitalisation and anaphylactic shock when I had a CT scan a few years ago! I spent the night before Christmas Eve in hospital as a result and it’s fair to say the day itself passed me by and I only woke to eat and went back to bed again as soon as I could. It wasn’t such a Merry Christmas after all. Now I am contrast free and go for PET CT scans every three months, which eliminates the use of contrast, instead using a radioactive tracer which I’ve so far had no issues with.

My anxiety levels have increased over the past few weeks, I’ll go from feeling fine to the brink of bursting into tears on the short walk from my house to the tube station on my way to work each day. I keep having nightmares about my diagnosis; being told Pembrolizumab isn’t working and there isn’t any more treatment that can help me, or loosing my hair again.

When you have cancer, all the focus is on physical health and trying to keep disease at bay. The constant cycle of treatments, particularly with invasive chemotherapy and Immunotherapy appointments over the past four years has meant its my full-time job. I worry often that my mental health suffers as a result, and it’s only in the past year or so I’ve really focussed on trying to get myself mentally stronger. Lately I’ve been feeling as though I am having a bit of a midlife crisis, and dealing with cancer daily is more than I bargained for, more on that in a future blog post!

Despite me being a ‘lifer’ in cancer terms it seems I would be used the routine but in reality it doesn’t make the multiple appointments any less worrying. The ridiculous thing is that regardless of me loosing sleep or not, the outcome will still be the same. What will be, will be after all! What I know is that it is something that consumes my mind from the moment I wake up until I go back to bed at in the evening, there is no rest.

I have been feeling sick and suffering from headaches, which I’m sure are a sign of the worry and stress, or maybe I just need to eat breakfast when I wake up. My experience means that my mind jumps from headache to deadly brain tumour in a instant. I know all the signs because I’ve been there before, so have had a couple of acupuncture sessions in the hope some tension will be relived.

The next few weeks are going to be testing. I’m wishing time away again so I know where I stand.

Seeing Scars

The clocks have gone back and right now I’m feeling grateful for winter coming our way. I don’t want it to be freezing cold all the time, but like many people I’ve started feeling the need to hibernate as the days get shorter and it gets dark so early. The colder days give me a good excuse to say no to things without being questioned. After work I want to get home as quickly as possible and hide under my duvet and escape from the world.

The winter months mean its easier to cover my many scars from surgery and cancer treatments with high necks and warm layers, which I am very grateful for. My scars tell a story, a huge narrative within my life, often they are scars that no one else sees or notices, but I know they exist and they get me down a lot. I have multiple scars all over my body, including a large one on my neck form my original melanoma site. Often, when I tie my hair up I worry other people will notice and stare at it, or ask questions about how I got it. My scars make a feel vulnerable and despite being 13 years old, the one on my neck is still prominent, and its the last thing I would want to talk about.

As human beings we are a curious bunch (aka nosy) and over the years there have been a few incidents where I have been asked about the scar of my neck by total strangers. Needless to say I’ve not been impressed by this! Another memory that sticks in my mind when I saw someone from school on a night out when I was back from university for the summer, they saw me and said; ‘what the f*** happened to your face?’ I’m not quite sure I knew how to react, but one of my friends quickly jumped in and told the person in question where to go! Firstly, It’s not my face, its my neck! Secondly, what a way to make someone feel terrible about themselves and shatter the little confidence they had left! Years have passed and I’ve not seen that person since, but the memory is still vivid. Clearly they weren’t taught tact and manners growing up – who does that?!

My hatred of my scars will always be there, during my holiday to Thailand in the summer I noticed some spots of vitiligo getting progressively worse; this is one of the side effects of taking Pembrolizumab, so I know I shouldn’t let it get me down, but it becomes another reason to dislike what I see, and it’s something else I cannot control, like all the other ugly marks on my body. The majority of my vitiligo is on my torso and my thighs and legs so it isn’t easily spotted by others, but I know its there and it certainly has an impact on my confidence and what I choose to wear.

I try to overlook my scars when I look into the mirror, but they’re not easily missed, I am able conceal some, but others are too noticeable or in too much of an awkward place to hide. In some ways I should be proud because they tell a story of everything I’ve been through to stay alive, they should be constant reminders of how strong I am, but the person I now see in the mirror is totally different version of me. In reality I hate my scars and the story they tell.

I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo for some time, possibly over my portacath site. I got one inserted two years ago after numerous issues with my veins meant it was getting more and more challenging for nurses to successfully cannulate me for chemotherapy.  Despite being discreet and easier to manage than the other options, my portacatch protrudes slightly from my chest which I find ugly. When I have dark days I wish I could rip it out of my chest, like the scars and vitiligo it is another physical reminder of my diagnosis. I am not sure what tattoo I would have, it’s just be an excuse to cover up something I hate. Maybe I’ll become addicted and get them all over my body! I had my eyebrow tattoos done around two and a half years ago and it was one of the best decisions I made at the time.

All the scars remind me there is an unwell person staring back at me and I constantly have to dig deep for the strength to keep going. I don’t want all the scars to define me, that’s not who I am, but sometimes its hard to get past. It’s more than just the physical effects, but it’s the psychological ones too. Cancer has changed every single aspect of my life and the scars are a permanent reminder of my lack of control.

The various systemic treatments I’ve received over the past 4 years have shattered my confidence, made me loose my hair and eyebrows, made my skin itch and become sensitive, made me sick to my stomach, hardened my veins and kept me awake with fear and worry for hours and hours on end. They have fundamentally changed me as a person. My scars will always be a reminder of just that. I need to learn to embrace them, right now all I feel is sadness each time I catch my reflection in the mirror. All I see are my scars.

The Perks Of Pembrolizumab

Last week it was reported that two scientists behind groundbreaking Immunotherapy developments had won the annual Nobel Prize for Physiology or Medicine for their work on Immunotherapy.

This is big (and incredible) news within the cancer world! It got me thinking about all the positives which come alongside taking a newer, cleaner drug like Pembrolizumab. I’m continuing on treatment indefinitely which is hard to get my head around, but It’s safe to say I wouldn’t be alive without it! I just have to suck it up and keep on going.

Professor James Allison and Professor Tasuku Honjo discovered how to fight cancer using the body’s own immunise system, which eventually led to treatments for advance melanoma and has transformed the way it’s treated. My current Immunotherapy drug Pembrolizumab is now also being used to treat other cancers such as advanced lung cancer and Hodgkins Lymphoma. The drugs now offers hope to patients like me with previously untreatable cancer! Believe it or not the duos work began in the 1990s and is now starting to pay dividends!

You can read more about the award and the developments in the news section of the Cancer Research UK website, which also includes a few quotes from yours truly! Thanks CRUK!

I’m so happy that research in the area has been funded so far, but my case is one of many, some not as successful! Hopefully research will continue so scientists can fully understand why drugs work for some people and not others and how it can developed to become even more successful.

Ipilimumab (aka Yervoy), which I took a few years ago was one of the first drugs developed using the scientists discovery, with Pembrolizumab and Nivolumab following closely behind.

I started thinking about all the perks of taking this drug compared to some of my previous treatments. Going through endless cycles treatment is like crossing a battlefield every day. I need to keep thinking about the positive aspects to help keep a positive mindset, and it might help someone else too!

My hair and eyebrows have grown back since my treatment change, for me this is a huge success! I ask look well (partly thanks to the hair and eyebrows!) therefore not like your typical cancer patient; this does wonders for my mental health, but I know often people don’t always appreciate how unwell I am if they can’t see the evidence for themselves.

The side effects for me have been a lot less than on previous systemic treatments, including Vemurafenib which caused me many more problems such as frequent vomiting, skin rashes, bad stomach, headaches and joint pains to name a few. I will sometimes still experience these side effects, but to a much lesser degree than previously. My current main side effects are fatigue and vitiligo, and although these get me down frequently, (see my previous post Tired of Being Tired) I know I’ve come really far over the past two and a half years.

The infusion of the chemo itself is only 30 minutes, I know some people end up hooked up to machines for the best part of a working day receiving other types of chemotherapy. On a really really good day I might only be physically hooked up to a drip stand for a hour or so. Sure, that hour feels like an eternity, and there’s an awful lot of waiting around in between appointments etc, but it could be much worse. Today I had a really long day at the hospital, but I have to remind myself it’s all for the greater good!

Some weeks, when not seeing my consultant or one of my oncology team I only have to visit my hospital for the treatment in the afternoon, making the whole experience far less pain staking!

I’ve spent much less time as an inpatient on a hospital ward that with previous treatments. Three years ago it felt like I was constantly visiting my local A&E due to various side effects and having numerous blood transfusions, but so far so good with Pembrolizumab.

I hope that in the future this drug will be developed into a tablet, meaning a lot less visits to hospital for patients like me, considering how advanced chemotherapy treatments are becoming I would it’s not too much of a distant dream. Until then I just have to grit my teeth and keep going.

Loving The Skin We Are In

As I come to the end of relaxing few days away in Cyprus it’s dawned on me just how many people are dying for a tan, and will go to any lengths to get that sun kissed look all the holiday adverts suggest we should have. What happened to loving the skin we’re in and looking after it?

Last summer I wrote a post called Why Everybody Needs To Wear Suncream and for me these words will always ring true.

Wearing sunscreen on a daily basis is the best thing to do to keep skin looking youthful and healthy, but people do the exact opposite to get a tan, exposing it to the strong sunshine or tanning bed lights for hours on end. I know people who wouldn’t go out of the house without make-up and wouldn’t let their own children go out without sun cream on, however chose not to protect their own skin against UV radiation.

Sometimes It can upset me that people don’t take this seriously despite knowing about my Stage 4 diagnosis, particularly those who are close to me and have followed my journey. Strangers on sun loungers in Paphos can almost be forgiven, but part of me wishes I had a sign around my neck explaining why they should cover up. Something like, ‘Stage 4 skin cancer, spread to brain, lungs and bowel, dying to live, don’t die for a tan’. Might be a bit much though?

Our skin needs protecting just the same as the other organs in our body. We are all at risk no matter what climate we live in, but it’s certainly heightened when we holiday in sunnier climates. Just because someone has been wearing factor 20 or 30 all week doesn’t mean there skin is ‘used to’ the sun and they can then go without. By trying to tan quickly using a low factor SPF, people increase the risk of damaging skin long term.

My personal belief is that everyone should be wearing high factor protection. I didn’t get melanoma from direct sun exposure, and the desire for a tan, but for me wearing anything less than factor 50 would be stupid.

Over the course of the week I’ve seen so many people with bright red faces and bodies basking in the glory on the early October Mediterranean heat. Cyprus has been described as a year round destination, so I can see why people come here to get there summer sun fix, particularly before winter sets in. It’s painfully obviously that red skin is not a good look and doesn’t turn into a tan afterwards, it peels and flakes off and not to mention it’s painful too. I’m currently sitting on a sun lounger in the shade and can spot at least 5 people in my immediate vicinity with severe sunburn.

As someone who is fighting to stay alive I don’t understand why people see sun exposure and even getting a tan as so important. I’d rather been a pale Patsy than a red Ruth any day. But maybe it’s because I know how unpretty, heartbreaking and soul destroying a life with a serious cancer diagnosis really is.

A few years ago prior to my stage 4 diagnosis I watched a BBC documentary about people’s love of tanning with one of the signers from Girls Aloud called Nicola Roberts: The Truth About Tanning.

In the documentary, Nicola, a pale red head explore the culture of tanning amongst young women and men in the UK, and the extremes they will go to in order to obtain the perfect tan. She meets women whose love of tanning has become an addiction, using sun beds 5-6 times a week and someone who inject untested tanning-aid drugs bought online in the quest for the ultimate tanned body.

Even though I hadn’t had my stage 4 diagnosis at this point I remember crying to my mum whilst it was on television as It was far too close to home for me; one of the segments featured a mother who had a daughter who died from melanoma which had started as a result of frequent sun bed use. I cried as I told my mum that it could have been me that died from melanoma. Little did I know that my life would change forever as a result of the same disease shortly after.

Fake it, don’t bake it! Love the skin you’re in as the Oil of Olay (or Ulay) advert once suggested. You never know, protecting it might just save your life.

Cognitive Behavioural Therapy

I recently came to the end of a counselling programme which focussed the talking therapy Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) to help me manage my depression and anxiety. I wrote about starting this journey in an earlier blog post, The Rough And The Smooth a few months ago.

I was initially referred for this treatment at the end of 2017 and I have been attending regular CBT sessions since April in order to help me manage my emotions and thoughts around my cancer diagnosis. It’s not easy to rewire your brain to think in a completely different way, but it’s helped me a lot, and I’m hoping I’ll be able to continue using the techniques I’ve learnt so that I don’t fall back into a negative thought cycle.

Over the past few sessions I’ve practiced various different techniques used in CBT,  one I’ve found particularly useful so far is Thought Challenging. This technique allows a person to look at a situation from alternative angles. By doing this I’ve started to consider things from a more objective point of view, rather than just assuming that my negative thoughts are the complete facts, so not necessarily about just thinking positively in a negative situation, which is often a particular challenge!

A simple example of this may start with a friend cancelling dinner because they’re busy at work. My irrational brain tells me that I am not important enough and worry they think I am boring or I’m constantly talking about my cancer diagnosis or my own issues, therefore I am not a good enough friend to them and they don’t want to see me. So many thoughts run through my mind about the reasons why they cancelled. Keeping a Thought Challenging diary has allowed me to weigh up the for an against and come up with an alternative thought. Now I can be more rational and recognising we’re all busy people, particularly when work comes into play. In the grand scheme of life its simple to reschedule for another time. It’s key for me to remember I am important and that I am lucky to have a lot of people around me who are always there to listen no matter what, even though some live thousands of miles away!

Through this process I’ve learnt that I tend to think in a very black and white way, (know as All-or-nothing thinking) which has had a significant negative impact on my self-esteem, happiness and relationships over the past few years. I’ve tried to overcome this by keeping a list of my negative thoughts and writing down different ones. I have to remind myself that this thought is extreme and in turn come up with one that is more balanced. Another example would be me calling someone and them not picking up the phone; I’ll start to panic that something really bad has happened to them, even though they’re probably just busy at that time. Similarly, if someone says they need to go to the doctors my mind will automatically worry they might have a serious health problem and I constantly fear awful things will happen to my loved ones

During my life with cancer I’ve been taking everything one step (or one PET CT scan) at a time. I’m often surprised I’ve not had a breakdown over the last eight years. Sometimes I get emotional and feel like I’m in full on mid-life crisis mode (I am now in my 30s after all) so CBT has been a great way to try and combat that! I’ve yet to try and revisit my youth, or buy a sports car,  so perhaps I’ve not had a my own crisis moment just yet! I always feel like cancer means ‘I can’t’ do things and there are so many other things ‘I should’ be doing. Thinking in this was is unrealistic and therefore I put too much pressure on myself.

Staying alive is on the top of my priority list, and despite all the challenges that have come my way I’ve succeeded so far. Although difficult at first, CBT has been a lifeline as it has helped me find was of copying with all the negativity my illness throws at me. I am now waiting for a referral for another type of counselling that I hope will help me move forward further. In my last CBT session I wrote down my future goals for the short, medium and long term and I’ll need to keep looking back at it to make sure I’m following my own advice. My first goal over the next six week is to try and maintain a more positive outlook, my recent promising PET CT scan results have been a huge factor, so here goes…

Facing The Chop

I’ve been lucky enough to have my own hair (minus a wig or extensions) for almost 9 months. I can’t get over how much it’s grown, it feels like the old me, circa 2008 is back again. Now I’m 10 years older but quite possibly not any wiser.

Since my regrowth I’ve wanted to let my hair grow and not touch it at all, and I’m faced with a huge anxiety about facing the chop. Why would I want to cut my hair when loosing it meant I had so little confidence? I spent countless nights crying myself to sleep and moaning to my friends about my lack of hair and subsequent ‘cancer patient’ hair styles that it seems like cutting it would feel like going backwards. I now have a full head of thick hair but the confidence is still hugely dented. It’s one of the many things around my illness which causes me anxiety.

When I initially started systemic treatment four years ago I was told to my relief I wasn’t going to loose my hair. After various changes in treatment I did end up loosing the majority of it, with what was left turning into a frizzy afro texture.

First I had to get used to the fact I was having treatment but didn’t look conventionally unwell, then I had to get used to obviously looking like a cancer patient. I finally did this and managed to embrace wearing a wig, after all I had straight, neat hair for once in my life so tried to see that as a bonus! I also lost all my eyebrow hair so got tattoos so I could feel ‘normal’. Then, with more hair changing I got extensions, which aren’t as easy to manage as one might think. Now I have to get used to the ‘old me’ making an appearance, only I’m not that person anymore, I’m a completely new one still undergoing treatment, however to a another person in the street I look 100% healthy. It looks much harder than it seems.

When my hair started to fall out I wasn’t mentally prepared, I didn’t expect it so I was really shocked. I thought it might just be a little bit, but when the bath plug hole was so blocked the water wouldn’t drain properly I knew I was in trouble. In one way I thought if I really believed my hair wouldn’t fall out then somehow it would all be ok. Given the original advice given I failed to buy a wig in advance in preparation.

During some of my worst times I used to dream about having long flowing hair again; and being able to tie it back. I’ll never take that for granted but now I have it I really don’t want to let go.

I now have more than enough hair to colour and cut into any style I want, but I can’t face it! My hair could do with a little refresh and a couple on inches off the bottom but it feels like too much too soon after my original trauma, it took so long to grow back after all.

At the moment, I feel ok that it’s a bit of a mess because it’s all my own hair, I’m never going to get a medal for best hair style, but I really don’t care. I know I’ll have to face getting it cut in the not too distant future, but I want to hold onto the growth; to this moment of success within my treatment journey, it’s a small win, but it’s a win all the same.

Has anyone else felt the same about hair cuts post chemo growth, or is it just me?! Perhaps in the future I’ll change drugs and it’ll fall out again, so I want it for as long as possible. I know it’s slightly illogically, completely irrational and silly of me, but having cancer does strange things sometimes!

The Results Are In

I have now been sharing my story via my blog for almost two years, and luckily in that time have also remained stable on my latest Immunotherapy drug, having had my last major surgery in the summer of 2016.

This week is also very significant as it marks exactly 13 years since I was initially diagnosed with stage 1 malignant melanoma via a mole on my neck when I was only 18 years old. I have now been living as a stage 4 patient for almost 8 years. I was told back then I may not make 25 and now I’m 31, struggling sometimes but I keep picking myself up again. Cancer has been with me my whole adult life, which is something I don’t think I’ll ever be able to accept.

In some ways my stage 4 diagnosis seems like a lifetime ago, but in others not much had changed. Not long after I had started recovery from surgery to remove my brain tumour and lung tumour I moved to London ana went back to work. I’m still living with friends in the capital city and attempting to navigate the working world as best I can. Around three years ago I moved form South West to East London, so it almost feels like London is a new city, having discovered parts I would never have seen before.

I still get too caught up in the moments when I feel well and then book in too many activities, so last weekend I spent a lot of time relaxing and napping in preparation for the week ahead. I had a chest infection and needed antibiotics, which I think have since cleared everything up. I need to be on good form for the Northampton Half Marathon on Sunday to raise funds for The Lewis Foundation.

I had a PET CT Scan last week and travelled to Leicester to get the results yesterday. I am delighted to say my news was all very positive and takes the pressure off over the next few months.

However, no matter how many times I’ve heard positive news over the last two years there is always the fear my world will fall apart again at any moment. In some ways it feels like I’ve been given a golden ticket, but tomorrow I could find out it’s actually fake after all. I am of course relived, but the fear doesn’t disappear over night.

I’m now very used to the three weekly routine and cycle of my treatment, in way it has become staple part of my life up until this point. Travelling to and from the hospital gets me down, it’s mentally stressful and physically exhausting, but it’s nothing if it means I have a functioning life the rest of the time. I need to try and shift my attitude so that I am ‘living with’ cancer rather than all the negatively that plagues me about dying from it.

Here’s to LIVING!

Becoming An Adventurer

I am about half way through my holiday right now, so far I’ve visited Phuket and Chiang Mai in Thailand. I’ve created some wonderful memories, taking me well and truly out of my comfort zone, perhaps I am more of an adventurer than I thought!

The main reason for booking the holiday was to be a bridesmaid for my school friend in Phuket. In total there was a group of about 50 people who had travelled from England to watch the beautiful couple say ‘ I do’. It was so much fun spending time with friends and their families, as it wouldn’t happen ordinarily. Cancer has been very far from my mind, especially sipping coconut water from a real coconut at a beach bar overlooking the ocean! The venue and wedding itself were beautiful, it was an idillic setting, despite the delayed start due to a storm. I can’t wait to see all the photos.

Whilst in Phuket my friend and I took a day trip to Phi Phi, it was stunning however the weather was awful, making the boat journey very scary, however we made it there and back in one piece and lived to tell the tale. Whilst there we took a long boat out from the shore went snorkelling. Not one of my usual weekend activities and very much in my red zone of being scary and unsafe (not the fish, but the boat itself).

I’ve also eaten numerous times on my own, apart from day time cafe jaunts to write blog posts I would never have dreamt of going out to a restaurant for dinner alone whilst in London. ‘Table for one’ just doesn’t seem like the done thing, but when on holiday anything goes!

After my Phuket adventures I flew North and explored Chiang Mai for four days, I’ve found it to be a relaxed and friendly city, and I’ve been able to continue my down time. A few months ago I booked a trip to an Elephant Jungle Sanctuary which feels like a must when in Chiang Mai. As many people know I am not a really an animal person, so getting up close was an interesting experience. You can see form my Instagram photos that I’m pretending I’m not petrified!

Despite having a huge cold (mainly thanks to air conditioning) I’ve enjoyed the time alone; being able to wonder around and not worry about anyone else is a bonus. I’ve slowly been loosing my voice, I’m sure it’s down to a mixture of the cold and not speaking to people very often, I’m just glad it’s nothing more serious.

On paper this trip was one of the most scary things I’ve ever done, I thought spending so much time alone would be boring and was worried thoughts of cancer, dying abroad and my upcoming scan towards the end of the month would take over, not having anyone there to distract me. Two destinations down, and two to go! Perhaps I am becoming more adventurous? So far it’s been a success, I’ve been too busy exploring to think about cancer. All the negativity surrounding my illness is very far from my mind, I just hope it lasts when I get back home.

Read All About It

A quick blog post to update people on my latest media venture.

A little earlier in the year I was interviewed for Mail On Sunday’s YOU Magazine, and the article comes out this Sunday (22 July).

The piece focusses on my story, talking about my cancer experience so far and how my family and friends have helped me navigate through the toughest journey of my life.

I hope it helps to raise further awareness of what it is like to live with stage 4 cancer, and all the ups and downs that come alongside it. In the article, I talk about my initial diagnosis, treatments so far, my work / life balance and raising money for charities such as Trekstock, who have been a huge help to me over the past couple of years. Nowadays I struggle to remember what it was like to live without cancer, to live my life and not feel as though I am in constant fear every single day. Cancer will always be part of my life, so it’s important to acknowledge that, but it is not all I am about.

If you’re able, do go and pick up a copy and have a read over your breakfast / exercise session / bath on Sunday morning. Thank you so much to the lovely Rosalind, Charlotte and all the team at YOU Magazine.

UPDATE: You can read the online version here