I have finished all my radiotherapy treatments. I will not have to wear that infuriating garment with all its Velcro fastenings, or have to lie on my back, arms stretched above my head in that creepy darkened room.
I will never again have to lie there and worry about that enormously terrifying machine that hummed and bleeped, just inches from my head.
I will not have to get up at dawn every day of the week, to drive the 20 miles to the hospital. In addition, and more importantly, I will not have to worry about cancer any more. It has been prodded and poked, chopped out and nuked from my body, so if the grim reaper changes his mind and comes looking for me, he might have to have another think.
I hope I haven’t come across as ungrateful in any of these posts, for that wasn’t my intention. I know I have been incredibly lucky, despite all the small annoyances of surgery and demands on my time.
My breast will never be the same as before, but then my topless sunbathing days were over long ago, and I am somewhat glad to see it is still there, despite what has been happening to it.
I have personally thanked everyone who has helped me to beat this thing, but I will take this opportunity to say it again.
“To everyone in the Breast Clinic and Oncology Department of the Queen Alexander Hospital in Cosham, Portsmouth, my heartfelt thanks for all of your help, support and reassurance given to me over the last few months.
Truly beautiful people, every single one of you…”
And to all of my friends on social media, you have been more help and supportive than you will ever know, and I am so grateful for all of you…
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