OK. So I have breast cancer. But I am not supposed to know this...remember?
I am a practical person. I am also realistic. Although I know I have it and can be very articulate about it right now, I might fall to bits when I find out I am not just losing Colin, but the perhaps the collective Malcom and will need to have chemo and radio and anything else ending in 'o'.
Might I add my breasts are my best feature at this point? Many men (there haven't been that many...less than 15 and more than 10) always comment on them. A perfect 34D (sometimes a 36DD if I have skipped the gym for a month and eaten too many pies).
I haven't completely got my head around losing a breast...and I might. My lump is very near the nipple and perhaps even a little behind it...lumpectomy may be impossible (I have begun to educate myself on possibles at this point).
My other best feature, according to men and my male hairdresser, is my hair. A natural brunette with a reddish undertone, long and wavy. Cheryl Cole/Tweedy had to have hair extensions to get my hair. She got paid a few hundred grand by a well known shampoo company...I would have done it for far less, swung my tresses and not given the company any embarrassment in the tabloid press about the fakeness of it all.
I might lose all my hair if I have to have chemo.
Thus, the plan is made. I go to the barbers (not said male hairdresser because he will charge 50 quid) and I get a number 1 all over the day before chemo starts. I then run my hands over my head like Elvis Presley when he joined the US Army in '58. An iconic black and white photo. That'll be me, that will. Not as beautiful as Elvis (and he had two nipples, which I might not if I need my breast chopped off), but I'll run my hand over my newly shorn head too, just like him.
OK. back to the falling to bits possibility and telling people...
When I came out of the hospital I decided to tell everyone in my address book there and then. I sat in the car and I rang every single one and told them. Just like that. I thought it was best to tell them all because let's face it, I might be a very self-contained, autonomous intelligent female, but you can't go through this cancer thing alone. I mean, I am going to need someone to at least drive me to the hospital and buy me grapes, aren't I? I am going to need my friends, I know this.
Most were shocked. Some were upset and I had to console them. I know if I was told by someone I cared about (well I think my friends care about me) over the phone that they had breast cancer, I would be shocked and upset for them.
I saved telling my very best friend til I saw her in person a few hours after being told. I waited outside her house for her to come home from work. Unfortunately, the surveyor from Anglian windows turned up the same time she did to price up her house for double glazing. Poor fella must have overheard some of the conversation. He certainly gave me a special smile when he left.
My friend cried, the only one to do so in front of me...
...actually, I think my father might have shed a tear down the phone. Unfortunately, I have ruined his honeymoon. It doesn't bother me that much and it shouldn't him really seeing as this is his 4th or 5th honeymoon (I can't remember if he married fatherlet #4, so this might be his 4th or 5th wife). I must add, in case he ever reads this that this wife is lovely. I like her. She must be a special woman to even consider marrying him so she is ok in my book....
My father had to bury my younger sister about 5 years ago. He cried a lot then too. I suppose you are not supposed to bury your children and my father, a once high-ranking police officer and now a semi-retired lawyer (and a very good and successful one) might be highly intelligent and authoritative, but he is a big pussy really. I remember when my younger sister was ill (she was an alcoholic and died of alcohol-related disease at the age of 30 or there abouts), my father asked the consultant at Kings College if she was going to die. 'Well' said the consultant, 'we are all going to die'. That's my dad...all those qualifications and crown court cases won and yet can't see the darn obvious.
Actually, I didn't just ruin my father's honeymoon but my employer's birthday too. She was in France skiing...and I had to tell her I had breast cancer down the phone. She said she cried after she put the phone down, but that is all done with now and she is her usual rock-like self. I am very lucky to work for such a woman (perhaps I'll get around to telling you what I do for a crust at some point). She is sassy and has the same sense of humour as me. Good thing really, I have a pretty black sense of humour and she and I have already laughed about Colin and, perhaps, the collective known as Malcom.
The only person who doesn't know a thing, yet, is my daughter. My daughter is 20 and studying art at a college on the South Coast. I don't want to tell her until I know what exactly is happening to me. She is a cool kid...long bright red hair, tongue piercings and a wicked sense of style and music-taste (if you like hard trance...or is it hard dance?). All she has is me...her father is useless and hasn't spoken to her for over 3 years...and she has no aunties or uncles, no cousins or siblings. I am it. And I pay for her flat and all her bills because god damn student loans don't buy a pint these days. She will be worried about me, of course, but I don't blame her if she worries about money too. She doesn't have to, of course, because I have a super-star employer who has already told me not to worry about money if the worst happens and I am breastless and hairless in rural Berkshire. I will always make her monthly rent cheque...
I am saving the news about Colin until the weekend, when I know more.
There aren't many people in my life who don't know...and now friends of friends know. Amazing how the old jungle network gets a-ringing when there is news to be known. And every single one of these people has overwhelmed me with their love and support. I am truly humbled by it. I am one lucky person to know these people. And I am one lucky person to work for my boss....
Of course, I have told them all they have to be nice to me because I have got cancer....
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