Cancer diagnosis that nearly drove me back to the bottle
PART TWO OF OUR GRIPPING SERIES
appointments recently? It turns out I have a little lump in my boob, and it’s cancer.
‘The good news is Mummy’s cancer is easily curable. I have the most clever doctors. It’s all going to be fine.’
‘So you’re not going to die?’ asks Evie, in an uncharacteristically small voice
‘Goodness, no. How could I possibly do that and leave your father in charge? There’s no way I’m going anywhere!’
I’m thinking please God, let that not be a lie. ‘How did it go?’ I ask when we get home. ‘Surprisingly fine,’ John replies. ‘ Kit wants to know if there’ll be loads of blood and Maddie asked if we can keep the lump in a jar on the mantelpiece.’
The kids are asleep. I sneak into Evie’s room and find her diary. I want to check how she’s really taken the news. I find the most recent entry. ‘Mummy has breast cancer,’ she’s written, ‘but she’s got some great doctors and she’s not going to die, so it’s all OK.’ DAY 240 If SOMEONE had said two weeks ago that I’d feel grateful for having a cancerous breast tumour I’d have thought they were crazy, but here I am thinking: ‘Hallelujah! It’s just one malignant breast tumour!’
The scan showed nothing else. The cancer’s not gone anywhere. As of friday, it’ll be gone and I can get on with chemo (if I need it) and radiotherapy, and blitz the hell out of any stragglers.
Since I can’t have champagne to celebrate, I buy two boxes of chocolate, which I eat until I feel sick. If I’d had to deal with cancer while drinking it would have been different: when I found the lump, instead of getting it checked immediately, I would — with the help of a few glasses of wine — have put it off for at least a few weeks.
Alcohol gives us false confidence. Those few weeks could have made all the difference.
When I finally got the diagnosis, I’d have gone on a bender. And being drunk (or hungover) makes us self-centred. I would have cried (a lot) in front of the kids. I would have ranted and raved. In one fell swoop I would have destroyed my family’s confidence and security.
Instead, everything carries on as normal, around all the endless hospital visits. And it’s that normality that’s keeping me sane, and them protected. DAY 248 I WOKE last night to find that Maddie had snuggled into bed between us. I remembered being her age, very nearly seven, and the feeling that if you were with both your parents absolutely nothing could harm you.
It reminded me that the innocence of my children is in my hands. If I fall apart, then everyone falls apart, and, like Humpty Dumpty, no one will be able to fix them without the cracks showing.
EXTRACTED by Maureen Brookbanks from The Sober Diaries by Clare Pooley (Coronet, £16.99). To order a copy for £13.59 (20 per cent discount) visit mailshop.co.uk/books or call 0844 571 0640; p&p is free on orders over £15. Offer valid to January 31, 2018.