NOLAN SISTERS
THE Nolans have a treasured place in the nation’s affections but their pop success has been followed by tragedy.
Having lost Bernie to cancer aged 52 in 2013, they’ve been through health battles, divorces, losses and feuds.
And Linda, 62, and Anne, 70, have faced further heartache after being told their cancers had returned following the filming of The Nolans Go Cruising last spring.
The past year has pushed them to their limits – and while Anne was given the all-clear, Linda must face up to her fate.
Now, in the first part of our exclusive extracts from their new book Stronger Together, Linda tells of the emotional moment she discovered her incurable cancer had spread...
Cancer was the furthest thing from my mind when we got back to the UK from our cruise. Although a lockdown was on its way, I didn’t know then what was in store. I had a three-month tour to look forward to, which obviously got cancelled; Maureen was supposed to be doing a pantomime, also cancelled; and we, like the rest of the nation, followed the rules and stayed in our homes.
When I got the call to tell me Anne had found a lump, I was in bed on a perfect spring morning. It was Maureen.
Mo said Anne had found something in her breast while showering and the doctor said she had a breast tumour. My face went white from the shock. Then things really went crazy. Just as I was coming to terms with Anne’s devastating news, 30 minutes later my doctor’s secretary from Blackpool Victoria Hospital called.
With my cancer metastasising [spreading] in my hip three years prior, I was given quarterly scans from my thorax down to my pelvis.
I was told: “Mr Danwata saw something on your CT scan on your liver.”
If my heart was already jittery, it literally missed a beat during that call.
I couldn’t tell my family when we were dealing with Anne’s diagnosis.
But two or three days later, I thought I’ve got to tell someone. So I said: “Mo, I’ve got something to tell you.”
She went, “What?” and I told her they wanted me to have an MRI the following Monday. She said: “Oh Jesus, are you joking?”
Mo called the others and then they all phoned me and said: “We would be there in a heartbeat but we can’t because of Covid.”
Being told I had cancer during the lockdown was much worse than previous times because they couldn’t put their arms around me.
I went to have my MRI with my Macmillan support worker, which coincidentally was when Anne was having her first chemo at the hospital. As I got ready, my hands shook with nerves.
I had that feeling, like going to the dentist, which I’m scared of: one of total dread. Maureen came with me. We got in her Honda and I was quiet on the journey. Staring at the road ahead, I said: “What if it’s back, Mo?”
She replied: “You know what? If he says it is cancer, we’ll just get on with it, all of us, like we’ve always done.
“And you’ll fight it, like you did the last time. And before you know it, you will beat it and be fine.”
That was my message of hope. I first met Mr Danwata when he was the registrar in 2006 under Dr Susnerwala, who treated my cancer the first time. We patients all love him because he explains everything really clearly.
I cut to the chase. “The secretary says you’ve seen something on the CT scan?”
“Well, the MRI proved it is cancer,” he said. “It’s secondary. It’s spread from your breast to your hip, but now there is cancer in your liver as well.”
I just put my head in my hands as he delivered the rest of my sentence. “Please tell me I don’t have to have chemo,” I