Finding extra lattitude on the topic of cancer

I am 45 years old and have four children between 5 and 21 years of age. In January 1998 I was diagnosed with aggressive breast cancer.

In everyday parlance, cancer equates to death, but a death we dismiss as a minimal risk in life – something that happens to other people.

After attempting to overcome the initial horror, I found myself falling on to the path well travelled by the multitude suffering from this disease, the path that leads straight to the GP’s door.

My doctor was pleasant enough, but quickly refereed me to a cancer ‘specialist’ who was anything but. From here on in the ‘recommended’ path seemed to be leading towards rather than away from death.

I sometimes wonder why I found it so hard to accept this path, or if it’s the same for all, but others force themselves to accept it as the inevitable final act in a cruel world. Perhaps it was simply fate - had I found it easier to accept, and had the doctors, oncologists and surgeons been just that little bit more kind and convincing, I suppose I would not be writing this article today.

The first opinion was horrendous, the second no better, and as the words of the most respected...

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