Quite a lot of words.
Potentially even a book.

In 2016, at the age of 40, I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

At the time, I wrote a blog about what was happening. Partly to keep everyone updated. Partly, I suspect, because writing was how I made sense of it all.

I didn’t know then that I’d return to those words nearly a decade later, with reflections I couldn’t possibly have had at the time.

The book brings together the frightened woman walking into Room 10 to start chemotherapy and the woman nine years later, reading her words and occasionally wanting to reach into the page and give her a hug. Or a shake. Or a slap. Or all three.

It’s definitely not a cancer manual.

It’s what happened to me. And how I see it now.

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