Chapter 19 - A letter from my Sister

A letter from my Sister

When I saw the title of the blog 'A big inconvenience', I can honestly say I thought it should be titled 'The day our lives changed forever.'
My memory of everything is a bit of a blur in the early days. I remember numerous tests and I recall waiting and waiting for results. It felt like an eternity each time. If I'm honest, I know that I always told myself 'Its never going to be that bad. Natalie isn't that ill - she looks far too well for it to be serious.' How wrong could I be?
As each test came back, I waited for mum to call and with each call the news got worse and worse. When we finally got to know the grade and severity of Natalies 'big inconvenience' I still wouldn't let myself accept that this was tserious, although I knew our lives had changed forever.
Our Nan had died of the big 'C'. Even though she was in her 70's, she was not old enough to leave us because like my sister, she lived every day of her life to the fullest.
To this day, I still don't have the right words to say to Natalie. I knew the only words that she wanted to hear were 'you are better - its gone.' I couldn't make this wish come true.
I knew from Mum that Natalie didn't want tears or negativity. I found this really hard given that I can cry at almost anything. Of course there were tears and mostly at night. I think having the boys during the day kept me busy but nights were a different story and Nick consoled me many an evening.
Natalie had said she did not want the boys to know how ill she was. Now Isaac is a bit older, he tells me he knew that something was serious. I remember driving away from Natalies one day and Isaac remarking on how quickly her hair had got very long. It had gone from a bob to Cheryl Cole locks over night.
As children, our house had been burgled in the middle of the night which lead to Natalie and I sharing a room so that we could be together. All of my childhood memories involve Natalie. OK, so yes, she was ALWAYS the teacher in the game and yes I HAD to rehearse all of her songs with her for her shows but she taught me a wicked step ball change and a dance routine to 'I come from a land down under' and not forgetting we composed our own song about Nelson Mandela. (Obviously I was the backing singer).
She twiddled my hair until it was knotted. She made me talk to little ornaments. But opposites or not, I have one and only one big sister and she is unique in so many ways which I love her for.
I haven't mentioned my thoughts on Indyana. I don't think any words are enough to say how much I love this 'loopy loopy' beautiful little girl. She was Natalies driving force to get better. She just had to get better, they needed each other.
I know I would have moved heaven and earth to be able to tell her she would always have her Mummy to love her but of course I couldn't. And of course, I thought of what this meant. I would have followed Paul to Liverpool or Ireland, where his family are, if the worse had happened. Without Natalie in her life, I would would have done whatever it took to have the bond with Indy. I wouldn't come close to being half as loopy as her mum but she would always be my priority. It was fleeting thoughts though, as the prospect of not having my sister isn't one I allowed myself to think about. Not an option.
Knowing how much pain Natalie was in physically and emotionally , and that it was single handedly in the hands of the doctors and medical science, made us feel helpless and pretty useless.
I do know now that she is going to make it and beat the odds and that she has done it in her usual style as only she could.
I have always been proud to call her my sister and reading her blog and knowing that she has done this to give others an honest account and hope and optimism, makes me even prouder.

I love you Natalia Snappy Snippy Snop, always have, always will.

PS I only meant to keep it brief. Good job Ive written it and not caught you on the phone!!


 

chapter 18 Daddy is that you?

This is a quick and funny little story. After my treatment ended on December 28th 2010, I decided I needed a holiday. I got permission from my consultant and we booked a week away at the end of January in Cape Verde. We went away with Jay and Keeley and their two babies, Regan and Mika.
It was a much needed if strained holiday. All I had on my mind was results. I had a post treatment scan and the results were due in February. I couldn't really get this out of my mind. Had it worked? Do I get to live or die?
We had adjoining rooms with Jay and Keeley and the kids were in and out of our rooms. I kept my wig on at all times but at one point Regan came into the room and caught me without it.

'Daddy' he said.
He thought I was Jay - bald daddy.

Chapter 17 - Los Angeles Part 1

I don’t know where to start with this chapter. There is a lot to squeeze in. What an amazing 2 years. I think about LA in 2 parts because I met Paul half way through my time there. 

Tracey and I spent some time orientating ourselves at my good friends, Jo Guinane. I had met Jo when we were both in Grange Hill. She was a ‘Sylvia Young’ girl, beautiful and just so slightly mad. In a brilliant way. We hit it off on set and became good friends. I spent many a night out with her in Essex growing up. Her lovely family moved to America and kindly put Tracey and I up when we first arrived. 

We soon took ourselves off to Santa Monica, where we based ourselves from a hostel whilst looking for more permanent accommodation. I remember when we first arrived, we met these two American guys in the local English bar. They offered to show us the sights and promptly picked us up in their porsche the next day, from the hostel. They showed us around all of the the tourist stops and the day trip culminated in meeting their family in a penthouse apartment. Tracey and I couldn't get out of there fast enough but it was a funny beginning to our LA adventure. 

Someone let us know that there was an affordable apartment in Venice Beach available to rent and there was a bit of an English crowd that lived there. ‘Albert Square’ as we named it became our home for the next year. It was a two-storey concrete square of apartments, mainly filled with English travellers based in the middle of Gangland Venice. I’m not sure we truly realised the extent to where we were based. There was quite often a pair of trainers hanging from the telephone wires, which indicated a member of a gang had been blown out. Either through complete naivety or some stroke of luck, we never had any trouble there or felt unsafe.  Venice Beach was a vibrant, exhilarating area simply full of the weird and wonderful. It was a real privilege to have experienced living there. 

The Albert Square gang included Nicky, Linda and Tina in one apartment. Mark, Nicky, Darren and Andy in another. Tristan and his crew in another. And finally, introducing our next door neighbours - Luke and Simon. Much more on these two later, given they became our new best friends. This group along with the girls - Torah, Maxine, Lisa and Mairead became our new pals. 

I am not sure I will be able to bring the fun we had to life in this blog as many of the magical moments simply had to be experienced. But it was such fun living in this very crazy city. 

Tracey got a job as a nanny. I worked in a very exclusive shopping centre for the rich and famous called ‘Fred Segal.’ There was a creche attached to it where most of Hollywoods royalty bought their kids. Completely randomly, I found myself in this job where I must  have seen most of the major movie stars in there at one point or another: Tom Hanks, Nicole Kidman, Tom Cruise and my personal favourite… John Travolta. Grease is my all time No.1 film. I also remember Michelle Pfeiffer buying and returning a dress once. I had to take her details as part of the process. Naturally, after a few drinks one night, I thought it would be a great idea to give her a call for a chat. (Really Natalie?!)

We quickly became pretty inseparable from Luke and Simon who lived next door to us. Our friendship began when Tracey and I thought it would be funny to break into their apartment and steal their ‘penquin’ chocolate biscuits which had been sent from home. We got on with them immediately. Luke, from North London, an arsenal fanatic and a big fan of coloured jeans at the time. Simon, from Kent, who loved motorbikes and had a wicked sense of humour. Both with bigger than life personalities and a naughty streak in more ways than one. The four of us went everywhere together. Luke and I in particular became very close and most of my funniest memories of LA include Luke. (He is by the way, still one of my dearest friends).

We had great times hanging out and people-watching on Venice beach, frequenting the ‘Cock and Bull’ bar, long Sunday champagne brunches at the Marina and dancing at ‘The West End’ club. We really just lived life to the full. One weekend we would take off to Vegas, another to Mammoth for a bit of skiing. That was what was so wonderful about living in L.A.  

Fran, my friend from college, decided to come and join us in L.A. for a while and ended up staying just a bit longer. Los Angeles and a certain neighbour of mine, named Simon, was just too tempting. To my surprise, Fran and Simon, chalk and cheese, fell in love. And it must have been in the air - Tracey met Steve Lamb and they also fell head over heels. Steve is now one of Pauls very best mates although they didn't really know each other properly in L.A. 

At some point, we all moved out of Albert Square. Tracey and Steve moved in together and Simon and Fran got their own place. So, Luke and I decided we would house share. We found a gorgeous house literally on Venice Beach. We had to go on an interview with the landlord and the agent advised us they would only rent to couples so Luke and I fabricated our story and off we went posing as a couple. We were like an old married couple anyway so the interview was a breeze and the house was ours! The location was amazing. The only downside was that the landlords 100year old mother, ‘Billy’ took it upon herself to visit us most days. In her bright red lipstick, she would patrol the grounds. The days we ducked out of sight….

Simon decided to nickname me ‘Billy’ on account of my wearing red lippy and an uncanny resemblance to Billy herself. 

I also changed jobs about this time. I worked in a restaurant called ‘Van Go’s Ear.’ It was a real quirky, cool place open 24 hrs in the heart of Venice. I worked shifts and Luke would pick me up if I finished late and his reward was a huge chunk of their carrot cake - it was amazing. I do have one rather amazing story to tell during my time working there. One day, I was sort of held up at gun point. A man with a mask put a gun to another mans head and demanded that I hand over all the money or he would shoot the guy. Mmmmmm? What to do? Impulsively, I legged it into the kitchen  and hid. The gunman fortunately ran away leaving one very angry other man who couldn't quite believe I had risked his life. I think they were in on it together anyway. So, the outcome? I got a pay rise and escaped my first brush with death. 

Our trip to Catalina Island, off the coast of L.A. was one of the most memorable weekends of this period. We slept in wigwams, drunk jugs of Brandy Alexander and simply laughed. The sight of Simon and Luke on the canoes will stay with me forever. 

After about a year, sadly, Lukes Dad became very ill and Luke travelled home. I felt like I had lost one of my limbs! Lukes very good friend Siobhan, from home, had booked a ticket to visit him and perhaps stay for a while. I remember hearing him chat to her ‘Don’t worry Darlin’  - Nats my mate, so she's gonna be your mate.’ Luke gave me a photo of Siobhaun so that I could recognise her when I picked her up from the airport. And that is exactly how I met my very dear friend and my next introduction, Siobhaun. 

When I picked Siobhaun up from the airport, my first impression was just how pretty and just how ‘posh’ she was!! She had such a lovely speaking voice. I was worried we might not get on. I couldn't have been more wrong. One night out later and we were bosom buddies. And new flatmates! We had so many good times together in L.A. We laugh now at how chubby we both were given we lived on a diet of English muffins and lemon curd, and White Russians to drink. We shared clothes and partied together and therein I found another lifelong friend. 

When I was diagnosed with Cancer, Siobhaun and her gorgeous family were on holiday. I did not want to tell Siobhaun more than most, as she had recently suffered a personal loss. I asked Paul to call her upon her return. A prompt 1 hour later, Siobhaun and Steve were at my doorstep. I was in my bedroom and just remember her coming up the stairs and hugging me hard. Siobhaun is without doubt the most thoughtful person I know. She always remembers important moments (unlike me) and I have a collection of cards that Siobhaun has sent me over the years. She is as precious to me now as she was when I met her nearly 20 years ago. 

Siobhaun, Tracey and Steve left to go to travelling to Australia. I moved house again with Lisa, Mairead and Francine and started Chapter 2 of L.A.

To be continued………………………….. 

Chapter 16 - Extracts from my mums diary. Part 1.

Chapter 16 - Extracts from my mums diary - Part 1

I didn't realise that my mum kept a diary during my journey. Or if I did, I didn't want to acknowledge it in case it was too painful. I had a bit of an unspoken contract in place with my family. The contract stated that I would be as strong as I could and my poor family were not allowed to show any emotion. Holy moly! If I saw or got a hint of their fear, I couldn't cope. So, I did not expect any tears. they simply had to believe that I was going to get through it. And maybe they did? Maybe they wouldn't allow themselves to believe of any alternatives? Although I find it impossible to believe that these dark thoughts didn't enter their minds. And even when I wobbled, they stood still. Not once, did Paul, Mum, Dad or Keely express any dark fear. I was quite simply going to get through it. God only knows what really went through their minds. 

I have to say, if you read any books, it will encourage you all to be really open about your feelings with each other. For me, this just wouldn't work. I ‘allowed’ them to be sad and at times concerned for my health but no more than that. Even when I was having moments of break-down, they were not allowed to break. And I am sorry to my family if they wanted to be more open with their emotions. I don't know whether I was selfish in my approach. I hope and suspect this contract may have worked for them too?

My mum, who has been reading my blog, offered me her diary very recently to help jog my memory on the series of events. She confided that she did not express her real emotions in the diary for fear that I would find it. It is therefore fairly factual but it does give an insight into how she was dealing with this awful blow. 

I have never underestimated how awful it must have been for them. To be helpless. To see my fear and pain. And I was aware that I was not able to help them at all. I know that sounds odd? I just couldn't give anything. This chapter is not about me describing the tower of support that I got from my family. I want to write about that separately and later. This is about my mums account. Just in case there are any mums reading, helping their daughters through it, and it helps just a little bit to know you are not alone. 

 - Natalie has gone to work today. My beautiful brave daughter. How is she finding the strength to get through each day? Amazing. But I see the fear in her eyes. Indyana, the love of her life, is the key to her recovery.

 - I walked aimlessly around Enfield for hours today. My daughter on my mind. I wish I could say or do something to help. No-one can walk in her shoes. I just hope I can walk along side her. I just want her better. I want her treatment to start. 

 - A bad night. Natalie was really scared. I just want to hold her. I cant stop her having these thoughts. She thinks nobody understands. I'm her mum and I cant make it go away. 

 - Please let my daughter get better.

 - Natalie gone to hospital to discuss having an operation to remove her lymphatic nodes. I am meeting Dawn, Laura and Keely and Julie (all of Natalies friends) at teddy bears picnic in the park, with Indyana. 

 - Tracey and Claire came over and we went for lunch with Natalie. The girls are keeping her spirits up. It is like everything is normal but it just isn’t. 

 - Natalie and I went to the cinema to see Coco Channel. Natalie was very sad and weepy though out the film. 

 - Please don’t let there be any more bad news. This is surreal. My head is all over the place.

 - Natalie in hospital. She text me at 5am. Once again, I am so proud of her. 

 - We went to Alexander Palace for lunch. Natalie was upset. She want to talk about dying. This is not something I am prepared to talk about. The treatment will work.

 - Bad news. Cancer found in 5 out of 10 lymph nodes. How can I comfort my daughter? We just don't know what to do. 

 - Went to Great Yarmouth. Indyana going down big slides with Grandad. 

 - Natalie had her tattoos done in readiness for radiotherapy. So much waiting around.

 - Natalie really sad tonight. She says all days are the same. I can’t help - I feel very sad.

 - We went to Colchester Zoo with Keely, Nick and Boys.

 - Natalie and I went to the theatre to see Calendar Girls. We didn't realise that one of the characters dies from cancer. Natalie laughed. she thought it was ironic and funny we had come to see this.

 - We all went to Brighton. what a fabulous weekend if it were the real world.

 - Nat couldn't sleep. She got in my bed and we watched terrible reality TV all night.

 - Nat and Paul went to first treatment. Long day. 

 - Dad and I took Nat for treatment. She is feeling very nauseous today.

 - We had two radio sessions today. We went to Westfield shopping centre in-between and met Siobhaun and Tracey for lunch. 

 - Natalie had bad reaction to chemo and was rushed to hospital. Her temperature was sky high. We got her home in time to get her back to UCH for radio. 

 - I have to go - Indy wants my pen!

I will leave it there for now and come back to mums diary later in my blog. I do want to say one more thing though. The one thing I didn't have to worry about for a second during my journey was Indyana. My mum looked after her, entertained her, loved her, for every second. She will probably have been by my mums side as she wrote much of this diary. I did not want Indy to know for one second that Mummy was suffering and I believe in my heart, she didn't know or sense this at any point. It was a priority for me. I would never have been able to do this without my Mum and Dad by my side.  

I love my family so much and wish that I hadn't had to put them through this. They shouldn't have had to endure this pain, just like every other family having to endure it every day. I am thinking of you all. x

Natalie - the private eye...

After the initial euphoria of reuniting with my family and friends, it became apparent fairly quickly that I had not shaken my travelling bug. I felt really unsettled when I returned from Oz. I quickly settled into a new social routine with friends, old and new. I hadn't decided whether to get back into education at this stage. Not forgetting I was still only 20 years old!

I came across a job advertisement in the local paper for an administrator for a locally based private  investigation company. After a successful interview, I started my job and soon realised that my administrative duties were quite far stretched. Basically, I became a private eye!! I had to accompany Pat, the experienced detective on a number of jobs. Once we posed as a couple looking to buy a new home, whilst trying to engage the unsuspecting benefit fraudster about his life, work and sports habits. Another time, we were doing real stake-outs following a suspected adulterer. My acting skills definately came in handy. Suffice to say, this is another job that did not make my CV. 

I stayed in the UK just about long enough to celebrate my 21st birthday party - a joint affair in Rudolphs in Tottenham with Jay. Our birthdays are a week apart. 

And 6 months later, Tracey and I were off again. I needed another adventure. This time L.A. bound. X

Chapter 14 - The title of my blog

We were having dinner one night with Tracey and Steve at our new home, when inevitably the conversation turned to my cancer. Steve is Tracey's lovely husband. A fellow scouser whom Tracey also met in LA, and our great friend. We both went all the way to Los Angeles to meet scousers!! 

Steve said in his accent, 'Nat, you just have to think of it as a bloody big inconvenience.' 

I remember feeling indignant. An inconvenience!? Really!!! It was surely more than that. 

For some reason though, it stuck. I do not want to underestimate what anyone might be going through right now but  sometimes, it helped me personally gain some calm. It helped me try to give my cancer some context in my life and some optimism about a future without it. It was a blip, a big fat bloody annoying blip. I kept this thought tucked away for when things got to much. 

Come on Natalie, it's just a bloody big inconvenience............

Chapter 13 - Loosing my locks

I was told to expect the start of my hair loss after the second or third round of chemotherapy. I had fleetingly researched the option of the cold cap, which can preserve your hair follicles and limit hair loss. It was a non- starter on 2 counts:

1- In my opinion, you either loose your hair or keep your hair but I wouldn't want something in the middle. That would be even more disappointment.
2- Mum had disclosed a fear of it stopping the chemo reaching to my head. Reading between the lines, she wanted my brain blitzed too, just in case. I thought that was a very valid point.

So then you prepare and you wait. I prepared in a couple of ways. I started to buy some wigs. I tried a couple of synthetic wigs on, which to be fair were absolutely fine. The quality these days is brilliant. I guess Wigs have improved given their popularity in the entertainment industry. Most major stars wear wigs proudly. However, I took myself off to a real hair wig supplier in Golders Green and purchased my dream hair for £1200. True Natalia style. Fuck it, this was important and I deserved it. It was a bit like Cheryl Coles hair. Now at this point I should tell you and my close friends will confirm, I am not blessed in the hair department. I have naturally frizzy hair, and I definately do not rock the beach look. On the surface, it is fine as I GHD every day. Not one of my work colleagues would ever guess that in real life, I look like Michael Jackson in his Jackson 5 days. So the transformation to Cheryl Cole was sort of OK, although of course , it wasn't really. I wanted my frizz because it was my frizz.

So, the other thing I did was start to introduce Indy to the idea of wigs, before I lost my hair. I played games with her, both of us trying them on and playing peekaboo from under the hair.
I remember the moment I first felt some hair come out in my fingers. I was out shopping in Oxford Street with Lauren, Paul's youngest sister. I remember the shop - Warehouse. And I just remember feeling both resigned to the inevitable but anxious. I was expecting it but it still takes your breath away.

The worst thing I ever did was hold onto my hair for as long as I could. I just didn't really know what to do. There wasn't much advise or support online and the NHS are too busy saving lives to really worry about hair. If only I had known about Jasmin and Cancer Hair Care then, it would have been so different but more of that later.

So, I waited as it fell out in clumps in bed, as I washed it and anytime I put my hands near it. I remember getting increasingly down about it because for the first time since being diagnosed, I looked really sick. My friend Siobhaun, always said to me that I was the best looking ill person around. She meant I looked 'well' and oddly, I probably did look ok. But now, I looked like a cancer victim and this I couldn't bear. I woke up one day and without telling a soul, I went into my bedroom and picked up Paul's hair clippers. I stood in front of my mirror on my own, mustered up every last bit of courage I had and shaved all my hair off. I didn't cry. I went downstairs to my mum and Indy, without really being able to talk. Mum immediately said, 'you just look the same to me Natalie.' 
Indyana didn't even notice. That is the truth, she didn't even look curious. I guess she just saw her mummy in front of her. How beautiful is that? And how grateful I was for my little cherub at that moment in time.

Paul was just as resolute when he returned home from work that evening. A man of few words but I knew it didn't make any difference to him that he now had a bald wife. It was simply part of my recovery journey in his head. Needs must.

I also remember texting my friends and telling them. One returned the text with a message that suggested the experience must have been liberating. She was trying to be optimistic about it, what else is there to say in response? But I can tell you, it was not liberating. It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. However, there was a sense of relief. Relief that it was over, the waiting was over. I think I dealt with being bald pretty well. Given my penchant for shopping, my wig collection and variety grew. I should point out, the rest were synthetic, not the real deal! 

I was pissed off when my eyebrows and lashes went too, but soon got to grips with falsies. The only times it really got to me was when I was in bed. I had to wear this little black cotton beanie to keep my head warm. My bedroom was surrounded in mirrored furniture. Every which way, I tossed and turned, I got sight of this pale looking beanie head reflection. It was not attractive, trust me.

My words of wisdom to anyone going through this:

1. Do not wait to long to get rid of your hair. Do it before you loose it. It is so much easier than the period in between.
2. You do not have to do it alone if you don't want too. There are some wonderful charities, that will support and help you in the process.Cancer Hair Care and the wonderful Jasmin are perfect.
3. Have some fun. Live out your hair fantasies. 
4. Do not sleep in a mirrored bedroom. X 

Chapter 12 - The Treatment Part 1

So, finally, the treatment was due to start. I really wanted to get going. After 6 weeks of waiting, I wanted to start blitzing this fucker out of my body. I had to do Monday to Friday of radiotherapy, combined with Chemotherapy every Friday. Double whammy Fridays.

I was edgy and angry on the first day. Paul came with me and we went on the tube to Warren Street. So basically, you sit in a waiting room until it is your turn. When it is your turn, you are taken into this very large theatre with the monster of a life saving machine in the middle of the room. You are told to stay very still whilst the technology and my individual programme targets between my breast bone, cervix and pelvic area. Given my cancer had spread, it effectively had to go all over my body minus my head, arms and legs. The room is radioactive so you have to be alone. The doctors can see and hear me at all times in case I panic. I felt like a little girl again, so vulnerable and so out of control. It is really tough knowing that your life is in the hands of medical science and a sprinkle of luck. Who determines who gets the sprinkle of luck? Those 3 out of 10 that do make it? I have often wondered about this. I certainly haven't done anything that would warrant getting that sprinkle.

The radioactive light is switched on outside the room so no one can enter.
So, I lay under this machine. It is completely painless physically. And I lay there wondering how on earth this painless process could be shrinking a cancer tumour and potentially saving my life. It is almost too much for me to understand. The 20 minutes lasts forever as the machine moves around the front of my body and then underneath to get the other side of me. I am scared but calm. I need this machine to work so I respect it and behave for it, willing it to save me.

You know when you have an itch and you can't get it, I remember feeling like that for the whole time. I wasn't allowed to move so inevitably my nose would start itching the minute it started. Bloody annoying.

I got to know the nurses that treated me. They were empathetic but detached. They had a very important job to do. Paul had to continue working during this period so Mum and Dad came with me every day. Dad drove me to UCH day in day out for 6 weeks. He would wait in the car whilst Mum and I went in. The side effects of radiotherapy weren't too bad. I think I lost my appetite for the first time in my life as at some point they had to readjust the technology to account for my weight loss. That's how scientific it is. I was also lacking energy but it was manageable. The hardest part of radiotherapy was witnessing babies and children in treatment. It was heartbreaking and the images will stay with me for the rest of my life.

I remember one particular day when I had two radiotherapy treatments planned in a single day to make up for a bank holiday. One in the morning and one in the middle of the day. What did I do in-between? The team suggested I rest on the ward but I decided to take myself off to Westfield Shopping. Tracey and Siobhaun met me for for some lunch and shopping. I did these normal things as much as I could. It was my way of putting two fingers up to Cancer.

It was chemotherapy that was hard. I remember the night before my first treatment. I was anxious and desperately scared. Some friends called and text and others didn't. I needed to know that my friends were thinking of me. It was another hard hitting realisation that the world goes on.

I remember the chemo room so well. Lots of big blue armchairs, hard, upright and uncomfortable, scattered around the room. I had blood tests first before each chemo session to ensure my counts were strong enough to take this cell destroying liquid. Assuming your blood was o.k, the treatment could commence. I took medication, and lots of it every day. Mainly to counter the sickness, but it didn't stop it. I remember the smell. Chemotherapy has a really distinct smell and it haunts me. I remember the most painful part of the process was getting the cannula put into my arm, ready to hook me up to the constant flow of chemo for 5 hours. And then I remember, just sitting and praying that it was killing every last cancer cell in my body, I willed it to work. I always looked about wondering about all of the individual stories and prognosis of all the patients in the room. There would be at least 12 in each room. I did speak on occasion to some patients but only when they opened a conversation. I didn't want to be rude. I wanted to detach myself psychologically from my surroundings so it was easier not to engage with others.

After the second round of chemotherapy, I had a bad reaction. I was at home, laying in bed, vomiting as usual but it felt worse. My temperature was at a dangerous level. Paul drove me to the closest hospital, North Middlesex. I sat in the waiting room in A&E, with all the other patients. Again, I wanted to scream, 'don't you know I might be dying?' I eventually got seen to. Given it was a different hospital and they did not have access to my records, I did my best to describe all of the medical names given to my diagnosis and treatment. They couldn't really work out why I had reacted in the way that I did, so they put me in an isolation room and got my temperature under control. Paul camped out on a hard chair next to me. I remember two things about this night: a cockroach in my room and fretting that this complication would in any way stop my course of treatment. I simply had to remain on track. I think I was released the day after and I got myself back to UCH for radiotherapy.
After the third round of chemotherapy, I was anxious about a repeat performance. And sadly, it happened again. I was so ill. This time, I suffered the longer journey to UCH so at least they had my records. I felt safer there. I had to have a blood transfusion. It was really odd as the next day I temporarily felt like a new woman, thanks to someone elses blood. And the next day, they took me in my wheelchair to radiotherapy. However ill I was, it was imperative to me that I stayed on track.

One of the random things I remember is asking Paul to get me a McDonald's. I do not eat this rubbish but I have never enjoyed a quarterpounder and chips so much in my life and never will again. Hilariously, I sent him back the second night to get the same. How weird! At some point during this treatment,the consultant advised me that they had decided to give me 5 extra chemotherapy treatments as a result of my cancer having spread. It was a different type of chemo and I would loose my hair. I remember almost feeling pleased when I got this news, as they had suggested it was extra reassurance.

Towards the end of the first 6 weeks, I had to have 2 rounds of internal radiotherapy. This is not for the faint hearted. Again, against advise, I decided to stay awake and have the procedure under epidural. Paul stayed with me whilst the epidural was administered and then he had to leave. I then had some radioactive machines inserted into my (you know what). I was left in the room alone whilst this machinery blitzed directly into the tumour in my cervix. I can tell you that was one of the most intrusive, sad, overwhelmingly horrendous experiences of my life. I lay there determined not to cry but tears fell silently. Again, I dug deep, respected the machinery wired into my body and willed it to blitz this demon within me. 

Chapter 11 - The Travelling years Part 1

Before I start writing this chapter, I just have to tell you where I am writing it. I am on a jetty, alone, on a deserted island off Langkawi, off the south west coast of Malaysia. I am surrounded by the most stunning natural beauty, aqua blue sea and lush green mountains. What am I doing here? The perks of my job. Am I enjoying it? Yes of course, but not as much as I should because my family aren't here with me. An experience alone doesn't make for half an experience shared.

Anyway, back to 1990. College complete and another happy era over. I really loved life, I always have. I remember thinking at one point, why couldn't cancer happen to someone who didn't love life quite as much. How ridiculous!

So at some point during college, I decided that I wanted to travel the world. Initially my friend Sian was planning on joining me but something changed. During college, someone had introduced me to Dawn Charles. Dawn, my travelling companion and dear friend today. Much to her parents dismay, she decided that she wanted to go travelling with me. I worked at Uncle Jerrys law firm for 6 months, putting every penny away that I could to save for this adventure. I remember I saved enough for a flight and about £2000 spending money- I think? I'm sure Mum and Dad and Nan and Grandad would have been responsible for some of that.

I remember the Group that waved us off. My Mum, Dad, Nan, Grandad (who cried), Uncle Jerry, Sian and Black (one of the Cuffley Boys). I think we were pretty brave at the age of 18yrs old. I know lots of students do it now but in an age of Digital immigrants, there wasn't any technology that was going to keep us in contact. No mobile phones, let alone the Internet or Skype!

We bought the cheapest ticket we could find. Five airports and two days later we arrived.

I have to give credit to my parents for supporting this decision. They got a telephone call every 2-3 weeks depending on how flush I was. And frequent letters. I used to really enjoy writing them. I think Mum still has some. I cannot even imagine a world where I did not know where Indyana was and that she was OK for a day, let alone weeks. We started our journey safely, staying at my Uncle Eric and Aunt Rose. My dads eldest brother and his wife emigrated long before I was born. Their house was very grand and full of antiques. They were so kind to us, taking us to the top sightseeing places. First stop? The set of Neighbours! We even got to see some filming in action. We went to a beach where literally thousands of penguins emerge from the sea to hibernate. Or mate? I never was very good at general knowledge. I remember loving it though. This was a lovely period of feeling safe to set us up for our big adventure on our own.I have seen Eric and Rose several times since over the years, and I have a real soft spot for them. They have good hearts.

We flew to Sydney and it was love at first sight. I ended up staying in Australia for just over 2 years - my poor parents. And I met some of the gang who are my best friends today. What a beautiful country it is. Absolutely vast with the most amazing beaches, wildlife and natural scenery. The australians work to live, rather than the other way round. It really is the great outdoors- barbecues on the beach really do happen. And it has an amazing party scene as we were to discover.

We got work pretty easily and some really funny jobs to support our travels. We stayed in Sydney for a while and then took off on our travels up the east coast, a well known track for the backpacking scene. The jobs as I remember them, in order of bizarreness:

1. Do you remember the 'snide' perfume stalls that set up on the corner of the street right? They were common in the 80's. There is always a look-out person, who has the responsibility of making sure no coppers were about. And then there is the person in the crowd who gets the crowd going. That was me. I simply had to stand in the crowd and pretend to buy some perfume. ' I'll have one please mate.' The idea being that other punters would follow in my footsteps. I then hid round the corner until a new crowd had formed and came back to repeat the exercise. I knew all my acting training would come in handy. I got paid $50 for the day. Not bad money that, back then.

2. I worked at a Dionne Warwick pop concert, as a cleaner. I had a long instrument that allowed me to pick up all the ciggie butts in the stands.

3. Dawn and I started our own enterprise, selling fruit on the beach. We bought a big polystyrene cooler, chopped up a variety of fruits and headed off to Surfers Paradise beach with ambitious profit targets. We had sold one slice of melon when our cooler collapsed and all the fruit landed in the sand.

4. I sold stretchy paint door to door, until an Alsatian scared the living day lights out of me. I wasn't good at this job anyway, I am not great at selling or bullshitting.

It was these little life experiences that ultimately I remember with such immense pleasure. They bring a smile to my face every time I think of them.

Our travels up the East coast were brilliant. It was a really safe back packing trail where we quickly hooked up with familiar faces at each stop. Byron Bay, Surfers Paradise, Airlie Beach, Whitsunday Islands, Cairns . At such a young age, we were experiencing such beauty. My passion for travel started then and has only got stronger over the years. We spent a couple of months and soaked up every wonderful moment. We met 2 girls called Lise and Jane, who we did much of the route with. I'm friends with Jane on Facebook now and she seems as lovely now as she was then. Every now and then, Mum would send me a package and I would have to stop at one of the PO boxes to collect. It was like winning the lottery. She would pop a new top in, chocolates, tea bags and bits and pieces. I loved getting those packages!

Dawn and I developed a really close friendship. We looked after each other and were each others family really. There was an amazing sense of belonging in this crowd. We all had a common spirit and everyone was so spirited and friendly. Dawn has always been pretty sensible but with that, she has a great sense of humour and a quirky personality. She also had her mad moments. Don't forget our trip to Thailand Dawn! Those memories are just for the two of us eh!

When we got back to Sydney, we rented a flat in Bondi Beach. A very famous, semi- circular alcove of a beach. I don't know what made this place so special but it was. I loved it there. We both got jobs that would pay the rent and let us have a good time. I worked in the Grand Cafe on Bondi Beach. Another girl called Lisa worked there and we hit it off. She lived with her boyfriend and a couple of lads they had met called Jim and Chris. Jim had asked me out on a date. I was pretty shy when it came to boys, but I decided he seemed nice. He was from Harrow and was a printer. We slowly started seeing each other but it wasn't very serious. Initially he was more into me and then when I decided I liked him, it had started to dwindle. Though I do remember him as my first boyfriend.

One of Jims friends was a really outgoing guy called Clive. Dawn and Clive hit it off and were an item for the whole time we were there. That was cool because by now, we had a big crowd and we would always hang out together. We laughed so much for two years. (Dawn has been happily married to the very lovely Vas for years now and they have 3 gorgeous kids. She recently set up her own business in North London, 'The Little Teapot.' I feel very proud of her).

We all got into the rave scene in Sydney. It was huge at the time. Late starts and late finishes- I'm not sure how we all done it. We used to look forward to these parties so much. We would dance all night and it bought us all close together as an extended family.

At some point, Dawn and I just hopped on a plane to Thailand and we stayed there for about 6 weeks, just having fun. When we returned to Australia, after about a year or so having been there, Dawn decided she was ready to go home. It was a sad farewell. We had had an amazing time together and memories that will last with us for our lifetime. We do not see each other as often as we should these days just because of our busy lives, but we have a bond and connection forever etched in our hearts.

I really need to introduce you to two more special people at this time. I don't remember the first time we met, no doubt it was at 'The Bondi Hotel' where all the British hung out. Tracey Cummings as she was then. A tall, slim, funny girl with a big mop of gorgeous brown ringlets. My first memory of Tracey is just thinking how nice she was, how she loved a chat and how I could easily imagine being friends with her. Our friendship blossomed until we slowly became inseparable. We ended up living and working together. Tracey was the first person I told when Paul proposed, the first I told when I fell pregnant and one of my friends that probably best understood what I went through. I am godmother to her first son Keiron. I made a lifelong friend and dare I say, my best.

Now the next story is hilarious but sounds rather 'suspect' so you need to know this is the whole truth. Clive had started to work at a brothel and strip bar in the seedy Kings Cross area of Sydney.

It was every young boys dream job. All he had to do was put the music cassette into the tape recorder and press play, whilst the dancing began. He then had to follow the girls with a torch providing their spotlight. And he got paid to do it! So, he knew that the establishment needed waitresses and a cashier and recommended Tracey and I. Off we went to our interview and got the job. Tracey got the raw deal, as she had to work downstairs in the middle of the action, serving drinks to all the punters. Neither of us ever felt unsafe and indeed were not propositioned. there were clear rules in place. One day though, she had had enough of the seediness and decided to find another job. I on the other hand, was onto too much of a good thing. I sat upstairs in the booth. My jobs included;

1. Talking the $12 entrance fee from the punters.
2. Keeping a record of the private jobs from the girls downstairs. The girls would have to come up, and report to me the nature of the job. Depending on the allocated time, I would be responsible for time keeping and buzzing their room to let them know time was up.
3. Doing the accounts at the end of the night. I seem to recall the girls got about 50% of the total income.

To this day, I can picture those girls. Candy was European and stunning. Then there was Ginger, who I think was a heroin addict and then lots of Asian girls. Some had tragic stories, others fallen to drugs, but on the surface, these girls treated it like any other job. Anyway, one last story before we move on from EROS, (that was the name of the establishment).

One day, it got raided for illegal videos. The national news channel came

charging in. As I worked on reception, I was their first port of call. They threw a roving microphone over the booth and stuck a camera in my face. And proceeded to question me, ' what can you tell me about the illegal activities occurring here?' I stayed silent for ages. All I could think about was my Uncle Eric and Aunt Rose seeing the footage and telling Mum and Dad. Eventually, I responded. Picture this. I pointed my thumb back and forth at the till quoting 'I'm just a cashier.' And you can guess what's coming next right? Yes, that very footage was played out on the news all across Australia that evening. Well of course all my friends found this highly entertaining and again we had a giggle at The Bondi Hotel. I thought it best I tell Mum and Dad. You see, I really was a good girl and I cared deeply about worrying them. I played the story down of course but reassured them everything was OK. If I knew Indy was doing anything like that, I would be on the first flight out dragging her home. I think Mum and Dad have always trusted me. Suffice to say, this is one job I haven't put on my CV.

Another incredulous story but equally true. I was in The Bondi Hotel one night, and quite literally got in the middle of a fight. Two idiots had a punch up and one of the fists reached my jaw by mistake. Given that I'd had a few drinks, I thought it was fine and carried on partying. When I awoke in the morning, my face had doubled in size. I went to the local shop to get some painkillers and by some stroke of fate, a dental nurse was in the queue. She asked what had happened, and when I explained, I didn't have any medical insurance, she offered the services of her practise for free. It transpired that I had broken my jaw in 2 places. So a month of puréed baby food later, I healed. Again, my poor Mum and Dad discovered this whilst on holiday. God knows how I must have spoilt that trip for them. It's funny though how fate or someone or something steps in sometimes to help.

Reading this, It's hard to believe that I went on to build a successful professional career!

So, my next introduction. Please meet Leeanne Richards. Again, I don't remember how we met but I can tell you, she became a good friend in Sydney and has been an amazing friend since. Leeanne was and is such great company. She is funny, kind, generous, gorgeous and so easy to love. We had so many good times and she ended up living with Tracey and I too. I am not going to tell the story in this blog but Leeanne will remember the 'Dog impersonation ' early morning activity in Bondi. Leeanne was persistent and dogged in her support for me during treatment. She didn't care that I wasn't responding to any calls or texts or support. She just carried on reaching out to me and it meant a lot. I knew she cared even though I couldn't be a friend at that moment. We have shared so many amazing times together since and I hope to be able to share of them later.

Another dear friend that I met in Australia is Tanya. When she arrived, I remember thinking just how pretty she was. Tanya is so genuine. she says it as it is. I remember her posting Lance Armstrongs autobiography when I was diagnosed. His story of survival. That is what made his downfall so sad to me. Anyway, that was Tanyas way of giving me hope. I always felt she cared. Paul, Indy and I go on holiday every year with Tanya and her lovel husband Mark and their two girls. We have just got back from Antiqua and are plotting our next holiday.   

Eventually, after 2 years, I was ready to come home. I had the most wonderful experience, met some lifelong fiends and grew up just a little. Tracey and I travelled home together, via Thailand and one Christopher Biggins outfit later (that's for you trace), arrived in Heathrow. My buddy Dawn picked me up, as I was surprising Mum and Dad and Keely. I rocked up to 23 Doveridge Gardens, Palmers Green, one Wednesday evening looking slightly worse for wear.

' Hi, I'm home.'

It felt so good to be back with my loving family. There were tears of happiness all round. I had returned. But for how long? 

Chapter 10 - The Waiting Tour

In total it took about 6 weeks from diagnosis to my first treatment. It was a long 6 weeks. During this time, I  had to keep busy to keep sane. Anyone going through this will know exactly what I mean. You might wonder why I haven't mentioned Indyana much at this stage. Indy was both my saving grace and what made the cancer diagnosis infinitely more terrifying. She is without hesitation what kept me sane. That is an overused saying. When I say it, I mean it literally. I wonder whether I would have kept it together without my will to first and foremost continue being Indys mummy. Equally, the fear of being taken away from Indy and leaving her without a mummy caused anxiety that I cannot possibly describe. I am not sure that I will ever be able to articulate it. I will try to talk about this much more later.

Back to the caravan tour. Given I am a girl that likes her luxuries, it is both funny and odd that I embarked on this little tour. Every weekend, I planned something different and dragged my mum, dad, Paul and Indyana with me. I had to consume my mind with anything other than my reality. I was treading water, as I have been really for the 4 years since. 

Indyana had a ball. Pontins one week, a sleepy coastal B&B the next, followed by a caravan park and god only remembers where else. Unsurprisingly, I have limited memories about these weekends- it was so hazy. I was just doing what I could to keep my head above water. I have never been the type that enjoys being on my own anyway and now it just wasn't an option. I was needy and wanted my family with me all the time. They however, were the only ones that saw me raw and exposed. I pretty much retracted from my friends at this time. I needed space. 

I do remember one night in this time, where my friends came together. It was about 3 

weeks after diagnosis and my good friend Leeannes birthday party. I didn't think I 

could face it so some of the gang suggested we go out locally for a meal instead. 

We went to Studio Pasta in Winchmore Hill. The gang were there- julie and Tim, Keeley and Jay, Merille and Dean and Rhonda and Alan. At the end of the meal, I decided I wanted to go to Leeannes party. All my friends obliged and I arrived with a small heros welcome from the rest of the guests. It was a moment of escape. Everyone started to leave or retire to bed but I didn't want to leave my escapism. As I drunk more, I ended up talking about my cancer to anyone that would listen, including the hired entertainment for the party. I ended up crashing out with Tracy, my bestie, who I haven't introduced yet. I remember sobbing for hours, whilst she consoled me with a repeated message, 'it's not your time yet babe, it's going to be ok. ' Please let her be right. 

One of my strongest feelings during this time is the sad realisation that despite my life having been ripped apart, everyone else's carried on around me. I know this sounds odd but I remember feeling  angry about this. I heard about things that my friends were doing and I felt pissed off that their life was just going on as normal. It was completely irrational. What did I expect ? That everyone would stop in mourning for me? It was just that when these planned social events continued minus me, I started to feel like no one could possibly understand my pain. I started to extract myself from my friends, mainly because I didn't want them to see how bloody exposed I was. I have always been a confident and outgoing person , a strong character, and I didn't want anyone to see the shadow that had currently replaced me. Also, I only had the strength to focus on keeping sane and being a mummy. I was no longer a daughter, a wife or a friend. I couldn't give anything to any of these characters. It stayed that way for a while. 

Chapter 9- The College Years

I decided to do a Performing Arts course at East Herts College. This allowed me to do 2 A Levels, English Literature and Theatre Studies, whilst also doing a LAMBDA acting diploma. This sounds pretty lame compared to what kids do these days, but it felt good back then. I think I was the only one of our group who went onto do further education. 

It was an amazing two years. I met a great group of girls: Sian, Louisa, Francine and Sally Brown. And guess who else was on the course? Paul Bettany - a Hollywood actor who has been in some major movies. Google him. 

I loved the drama and the dancing but quite often skipped singing. I was so far from blessed when God was giving out the vocal chords. I have never bunked a lesson in my life except singing and I only did it for the sake of my fellow students. And sadly, I think my daughter has inherited the same lack of talent. 

The course was run by the very wonderful Miss Tillaney. I have to describe her. Even back then, 25years ago, I thought she was in her 70's. Looking back, she might have been late 50's. She was about 5ft 1 at a push, and pear shaped. She always looked immaculately proper - a tweed a-line skirt, beige stockings and sensible shoes. She wore really thick really orange foundation and spectacles. I can picture her so clearly. She was very strict. Absolutely no nonsense. 

Francine and I lived in North London as did Miss Tillaney. We weren't old enough to drive yet and the journey to college was 2 long buses. It took commitment. Now, Miss Tillaney lived close by and offered us a ride on one simple condition. If we were not at the exact spot at exactly 8am, she would not wait. Oh, the days Fran and I sprinted to the spot a mere second late and watched her pull away at the traffic lights. Fair play to her. And I cannot forget her poodle who she idolised. I suspect it had always been just

her and her poodle. She would talk about him on many of the journeys. One day, she

shared with us the news that poodle only had one 'bollock.' Well, that just set us off. We were crying with laughter. Fran and I always giggled together. She was and still is one of the funniest girls I have ever met. She, too, has experienced devastation. Her beloved Simon, whom I introduced her to in L.A.was sadly taken from us a a tender age in a motorbike accident. We miss you Simon.

We met a group of lads who we hung out with. The Cuffley boys. Rich parents and a bit cool for school. We became really good friends with a couple of them. I remember listening to Barbara Streisand and The Carpenters cassettes in my yellow beetle. Yes, I passed my test at 17years of course, 2nd time though. I loved that beetle despite it being a rust machine. If it was Indy driving it, I would be terrified. Dad rescued me on so many occasions. It used to beep on its own as I went round a roundabout. If I went faster than 30 mph, the back windows would fall down. Imagine how cold I was. Despite this, it was my first car and I loved it. I had saved up for it - £700. My pride and joy.

It was this bunch of girls who we went on our first ever girls holiday with. And another girl, Dawn Charles, who we met through the crowd at college. More on her later.  Lanzarote. We stayed at my Nanny Joan's villa. We had such a funny time. Louise fell in love and then discovered he had cheated on her all in the space of a few days. He was playing them both.  She went on to stalk the girl, befriend her and then hatch an elaborate plan. One of them arranged to meet him and the other would be in the same place, unbeknown to him. Oh the drama! Sian met Steve. She is still married to him now, 25 years later and with two girls. 

So, I'm still friends with Dawn, Sian and Fran. Those 2 years are entrenched in my heart forever. 

I got through college with many happy memories and some (average grade) A Levels and a diploma in Drama. Now what? 

Chapter 7 - Prognosis

I am going to try and remember the sequence of events around my full diagnosis and prognosis. It won't make for happy reading. I want to get this down in case anyone that is going through something similar is reading this. I want cancer sufferers to know that however desperate the situation may seem, there can be happy endings. Now, I should say that as I write this, I have just passed my 4year anniversary in remission. I'm not therefore, out of the woods, but I am as optimistic as I have ever been. Despite having another year of 'my sentence' to serve, I consider myself a survivor. I call it that because I feel like I have been serving a sentence, waiting for 5 long years to pass, to get out. Having said that, I have made the most of every single day whilst inside!
Immediately after the confirmation day, I remember being in a bit of a haze. I had to wait 1 week until the following clinic at UCH, held every Tuesday. I think I was in shock initially. I recall trawling through every piece of information I could find on the Internet. I had seven days of trawling- bad idea. I read all the usual sites, obsessed with my chance of survival or should I say my chance of dying. I could quote exact statistics of survival odds for each type of cancer. I even read a full medical report from an American study which did not make for good reading. Basically, the lovely cervical cancer was a case of cure or kill. It didn't sound like there was much in between. To this day, I cannot believe I have had cancer. It isn't a case of 'why me', ' indeed 'why not me?' But when it was me, I simply cannot describe the shock and disbelief. And fear, deep dark fear, that never really goes away. I have now learnt that living with that fear is what requires the most courage of all.

I recall my first appointment. The first time I walked into the Cancer Clinic. A beautiful building just a 2 minute walk from Warren Street tube station. When I get on the Victoria line these days, I feel sick as I pass through this stop on my way to Oxford Street. I didn't feel like I belonged in this clinic with all these patients. Looking around, some young, some old, some in wheelchairs, some bald, some with horrendous wigs, some sons and some daughters. That was hard. Most daughters were there looking out for their mum, not the other way round. I'm sure that was even harder for my mum. And then there was me. What the hell was I doing here? Little did I know, right then, that I was probably sicker than most. And so I learnt from Day 1 that my appointment time was insignificant. The longer I waited at each appointment, the more anxious I would become. I cannot tell you how much I hated this clinic. It felt like a waiting room for the dead to me. It wasn't, but that's how I felt. The all consuming fear.
So the first appointment wasn't that eventful. I wanted answers and guarantees but of course, I wasn't able to get them. Doctors cannot see into your body and they do not know how the cancer will behave. They can only provide a plan of action, based on medical research. So my immediate plan of action was an internal examination to assess the stage of disease. If it was 1a or 1b, confined to the cervix, it would be good. I could have a hysterectomy and 80% chance of survival.
I have to tell you at this stage, this couldn't have happened to a sorrier patient. I have the lowest pain threshold on the planet, am naturally predisposed to think about the worst and a deep rooted fear of anaesthetic. This definately did not help throughout my journey. I met Doctor McCormack, the lead consultant on the first session. Naively, I thought she would be with me throughout. I must have been seen by more than a dozen consultants throughout my treatment. This isn't a criticism. I credit the NHS and medical science with saving my life. It's just hard feeling that nobody knew me. I was simply an NHS patient with an NHS patient number and file. The number of times I watched doctors read my notes as I sat in the room, waiting to hear one fate or another. If only one of them had really known me, it might have eased the pain of each of those appointments.

So of course I decided that against their advise, I would have the procedure under sedation. I did not want to be put to sleep. I checked into day care hospital along with other patients. I recall talking to them. They were worried about the outcome of their minor toe operations and so on. I felt again like I was in the wrong place. No one here knew how bloody serious this was and how terrified I was. I said goodbye to Paul as I was rolled into the theatre. I was sedated. I begged them to make sure I stayed awake and I was in control. They did. I remember it. I remember the doctor saying, 'it's not in the bladder.'. I felt elated- this must be good. I remember asking what stage it was. 2B. 2B? I think she said 2B. I couldn't remember what that meant in my sedation. I didn't think it was good. No it wasn't good. That meant it was out of the cervix. Spread. Odds? A lot less. I came up to the ward and waited for a consultant to explain, And waited. And waited. And waited some more whilst all the toe consultants visited their patients. And then lost it.

I went mad at the nurse on call. Everyone else had seen a doctor about their ailing limbs and I was dying and no one could be bothered to see me. I was beyond terrified and I needed help. Eventually, a McMillan nurse arrived. She took me to a private room and explained best she could. And calmed me best she could. But she couldn't tell me it was going to be OK. No one could. Get me the fuck out of here and home to my baby. The single only comfort and survival tool I had.

So then another Tuesday clinic. I think the odds had moved to 65%. Still ok right? Given the stage of my cancer, it was decided that I should have both an MRI and a lymph node dissection. The MRI was horrible and scary and lonely. Injections, left alone in the room and claustrophobic being shunted into the doom of the overwhelming machinery. All the while wondering what the technician could see on screen. I was desperate to ask them. Did you see any big tumours? Am I dying? But I stopped myself, gained composure and left.
Another Tuesday clinic. We had another setback. The MRI had shown fluid on the lining of my heart. Really? FFS. What did that mean? It could be something or nothing. The nothing was viral. The something was it had spread to my heart. That would be 'surprising' apparently. Reassuring, not! Surprising!!!!! I was exploding inside. I'm not sure how I kept it together. how much more bad news ? (If only that had been the end). I was rushed off to a specialist heart hospital to have an echo scan. I begged the poor technician to tell me what he saw. He said it didn't look too bad. I just didn't know what to think anymore.

Back to the waiting room clinic. Apparently, the heart looked ok. So current diagnosis- it was border line 2b and 3a given it was on the wall of my pancreas. But that didn't make any difference to the treatment plan. At this point, I was due for 6 weeks of daily radiotherapy plus weekly chemotherapy. One last hurdle before treatment could start, the lymphatic dissection. This involved removing lymph nodes throughout my body to test for any cancer cells that were not visible in the scan. And worse of all, despite my pleading, they had to put me to sleep.

I think I checked into UCH for this but I can't remember. I was told it was just for extra insurance it hadn't spread. I had a panic attack as they put the lethal injection in me to put me to sleep. When you think you might die and your life is out of your control, being put to sleep is scary. Really really scary. My god, I was scared. I did wake up and I remember feeling relief. Short lived though as I remembered the life and reality of what I was waking up to.
So, there was no follow up to this procedure. The next step was to go and get tattooed for radiotherapy. This involved something very technical which included marking my body to signal where the radiation would target. I still have my 3 tattoos marking the area. The radiotherapy unit at UCH is in the basement. It's dangerous and it felt like I was entering an isolation unit every time I went down.
The next bit is the worse of all. In my heart, I knew my cancer had spread. I don't know why I knew but I did. I asked to see a doctor as I hadn't seen the results of my lymph dissection. It was all a bit chaotic from there. There wasn't any consultants on site so I had to wait for an age for someone to come deliver the results. Another room, another consultant. And yes, it had spread. It was found in 5 of the 10 nodes they had removed from around my body. The odds. Less. A lot less. 30%. Devastation. I remember physically trying to stop myself from passing out. And I remember not wanting to tell my mum and dad. And I remember Paul looking hopeless but did not wobble. I had told him from the start he wasn't allowed to. And he kept that promise throughout. Paul deserves a whole chapter and that will come later.

So, the next appointment. I remember two things;
1. There was a stranger in the room. A medical student intruding in the worst moment of my life. Piss off!

2. The conversation. Me - ' So the truth is, I now have more chance of dying than living?' Consultant - nothing.

Chapter 6 - School

So Indyana, what can I tell you about your mummy? I was a really good little girl. Honest. Mum and Dad told me I was really well behaved. I was a little bit shy when I was younger too, like you. I went to Hazelbury Junior School, in Edmonton. Along with Jason King, my oldest mate. Regan and Mikas daddy. I wasn't naturally bright but I tried really hard and always did well. I remember loving school mainly. I was best friends with Sheena Ranger. The girl with long blond hair that all the boys fancied. She was queen bee. The leader of our gang. I started Winchmore Hill secondary school, and loved it. It took me a couple of years to work out what I loved and who my friends were, and there the fun began. Let me introduce some of my friends. I want to start by saying I have been truly blessed when it comes to friends. I have at least a dozen genuine best friends. That's not common. Introducing Julie Smith, Smithy, now Ash. We were the brainy ones of the girls and in the top sets together. We were also both at Boden Drama School and loved dancing and acting. Ha- we were both prefects together. Julie says I scared the hell out of anyone daring to trespass in our corridor. Julie and I became firm buddies. We stayed back and forth at each others houses during school. She even lived with us for a small patch. Julie is one of my best friends and her, her hubby Tim and daughter Rafelle are part of our tight group.

Introducing Keeley Reagan. The prettiest girl in the school and one of the nicest people anyone will ever meet. Her mum and dad must have done something very right bringing her up. She is like a moral compass to us all. She has always been so lovely. I think the world of Keeley. Guess who she married? Her childhood sweetheart, my oldest friend Jay.
I met both these girls 5 years earlier at the ripe age of 8 years old in the park. Apparently, my sister and I asked them 'what you staring at!' Who would have known we would become lifelong friends.
I haven't introduced Jay properly. Jason King. School legend. And I'd know him since I was 4years at nursery. Jay is my oldest mate. We have been in and out of each others lives but always there. He really stepped up during my illness. Not just for me but for Paul, and that meant a lot to me. I will never forget that. More on him later.
Introducing Merille Noble. I bet I've spelt her name wrong. I always have. Now, the funny thing is, Merille and I didn't get close until the end of school. She will tell you the poppy story. Apparently, I had a poppy which I wore, and on each petal I wrote the names of my friends. Merille didn't get to have her name on a petal and I really hurt her feelings. I don't remember this at all but I believe her. I do remember feeling very jealous at one point when Julie and Merille got very close as Julie starting seeing Michael, Merilles brother. Anyhow, she is one of my great friends and always will be. Mummy to Summer J, who Indyana really looks up to.
More friends later.
So, school was amazing. I was in the 2nd year I think when I was cast in the school production of Gregory's Girl. I was the only one in my year picked as it was a 5th year production and I was SO proud. We all loved the school plays. It was a time where we had such fun together in rehearsals. Sam, Soraya, Keely, Julie - the girls! One year, it was Dracula Spectacular. I was cast as Draculas mum. It was a great part. I could act and dance but absolutely could not sing, but I still got great parts. Another year, random, it was 'The Thwarting of Baron Bolligrew'. Mr Whiting - what were you thinking???? I had the main part but even my mum and dad couldn't pretend they loved it. I remember, 'well it wasn't our favourite but you were great.' Mr Whiting was fab though. I wish I had taken note when he told me all those years ago to stop frowning. It would have saved me some money in later years. Then, we had the Boden performances - A tale of Two Cities and BMX freestyle. These were semi- professional really and in the west end.

In my last year at school, I had an audition for Grange Hill, the kids TV series. It was only for an 'extra' but I really wanted it. I remember the call - I was sooo excited. It was such a fun year. I got to have time off school and was tutored at the BBC. I queued in the canteen with Dot Cotton and Lou Beale- surreal. It was filmed in the same place as Easties. I became a mini celebrity at school. I remember some of the younger kids asking for my autograph. Funny. And I managed to get speaking parts in 4 episodes. I still remember every line and after a few wines, am often know to recite my scenes. I fancied the actor who played, Robbie, John Alford. He went on to much success in the series London Burning, before being arrested for drugs and his career crashed.
I also remember Miss McDowell thinking I was a good enough dancer to audition for a dance group in London. She choreographed a contemporary dance for me and took me to the audition one Saturday. When we got there, I think we both realised, this was well out of my league. But hey, I was there right? So I gave it my best shot. What am amazing teacher, giving youngsters like me self belief.
I left school with 8 GCSEs (A in Drama, 5 Bs and 2 Cs in the rest). I was pleased. Mum and Dad hadn't had to ask me to study once. It was something I wanted to do. I just had it in me. I think some kids do and some kids don't.