A letter to… my disease
Dear cancer,
Iwasn’t prepared for how much you would change everything.
It was February 2017, and I’d had a pain under my left armpit and breast for months.
By the time I was diagnosed, you’d spread into my liver, lungs and bones.
At just 34, I was overwhelmed with grief.
My little girls, Olivia, then 5, and Amelia, 2, were so young.
How cruel you were, bulldozing into my life without warning.
I started chemotherapy and radiotherapy soon after, left my job as a primary-school teacher, instead spending my days recovering on the sofa.
Sometimes it felt too much to bear.
I was sick, exhausted. I cried until the tears ran dry, worried about the chemo not working.
Will my girls remember me when I’m gone?
But even in my darkest moments, I felt more resilient than ever. When doctors told me there were limited drugs to help, I started doing my own research.
And when I struggled to find the words to tell Olivia and Amelia why their mummy was so poorly, I wrote a book.
It’s designed to help children understand what’s happening when a parent becomes ill.
Mummy’s Got a Poorly was published in January 2018, with proceeds going to The Osborne Trust, a charity that helps kids whose parents have cancer.
My perspective on life started to change.
I’d always strived to keep a clean house, spent hours doing chores. But you made me realise that glitter on the carpet isn’t important.
Now I love arts and crafts afternoons with my girls.
Quality time’s what matters most.
I dreaded my long, brown locks starting to fall out. But instead of wallowing, I asked my hairdresser to experiment with different styles.
She dyed my new short hair pink and purple like a unicorn.
I’d never have dared do that before you came along.
As our battle continued, I started to plan for if you won.
What I’d leave my girls so they know I’m always with them...
I started making cushions... buying Peter Rabbit books for their children to read...
I recently bought them each a bracelet with a mother and a daughter charm.
Then, this January, doctors confirmed my worst fears.
Recent scans show that you’re growing everywhere, including in my brain.
So I took control, booked and paid for my own funeral.
Years ago, I’d never have had the courage to plan something so upsetting.
But since facing you, I’ve found the strength to address these things head-on.
When the time comes, my parents won’t have to worry about picking up the bill.
Cancer, you’ve torn my world apart...
But you’ve made me feel braver than ever before, helped me appreciate every precious moment.
But it’s my girls – not you – that I thank for giving my life purpose and unending joy.
Sarah
Sarah West, 36, Loughborough