27/02/2026
Everyone asked me whether I was scared about losing my hair. I couldn't have given a crap about my hair. But when it started to come out in the shower in clumps, I decided that the chemo wouldn't dictate when I "lost" it. I would take control.
My best friend brought his clippers over to my flat and cut my hair short for me. He made me feel like a rockstar, taking photos the whole time. When he was done, he looked at me and said beaming "F|_|ck! You look like Sinead O'Connor." Which meant the world because she was a revolutionary badass.
This is a pic from the big clip. I shaved my head fully bald a few weeks later.
Yesterday was 16 years since breast cancer diagnosis. As usual, I forgot to notice my "cancerversary." Mum always remembers. Of course she does. She was right next to me when Dr Baker grabbed my hand and told me "It IS cancer" and all I could think to ask was "Will I live?"
I like to think that having had cancer doesn't define me. But it does. Everything is at least subconsciously run through the filter of before, during or after.
I'm obsessed with how fantastic my friends are. For all the laughs we had back then. For the honesty. ILYSFM!
"Even when something terrible is happening
You laugh
And that's the thing I love about you most"
- Sinead O'Connor