Julia’s unsparing account of the brutal realities of cancer
‘Isuppose, like most members of this exclusive club, I didn’t think I’d get in.” In Julia Bradbury: Breast Cancer and Me (ITV), we followed the presenter from the shock of her diagnosis to her recovery from surgery.
Most of us would probably baulk at the idea of having a film crew accompanying us on this hellish journey, but for someone used to being on television I imagine it didn’t feel odd; perhaps there was also some comfort for Bradbury in knowing that she was providing a service to others. Because for those of us who fear that we may one day receive the same diagnosis or who have already received it, the programme was helpful.
Not that it was an easy watch. We are used to seeing Bradbury as the upbeat presenter of walking shows. Here, interviewed in hospital rooms or recording video diaries in the days leading up to her mastectomy, she was tearful and afraid. Her children (a boy and twin girls) are aged 10 and six. “The most painful thing of it all was the thought of leaving my children behind,” she said. “Every day, you have one of those gorgeous moments with them when they are little. It just made me so, so sad.”
Bradbury spoke of the “shrapnel effect” on loved ones. Her husband,
who prefers to stay out of the public eye, did not feature. But Bradbury’s sister railed about the unfairness of it all. “It should be me. I’m the one that drinks and does all the wrong things,” she said.
At no point did Bradbury offer advice, or tell anyone else how they should behave when diagnosed with breast cancer. She simply spoke of her own experiences: worrying over how much to tell her children about what was happening, and the grief she felt about losing part of her body. She did not sugarcoat it: a mastectomy is a brutal amputation. Bradbury chose to have reconstructive surgery at the same time, her surgeon marking up her body with a pen beforehand and leaving her feeling “like a slab of meat”.
It was a stark, unflinchingly honest account. Nothing was off-limits, as Bradbury showed us her newly reconstructed breast (it looked great, although she said it resembled Plasticine and would take some getting used to). And thank goodness for programmes like this that tell us the truth − both the good and the bad.
After the operation, her relief was palpable, as was her joy about being reunited with her children. But she also stressed that cancer has a lasting emotional impact − a “lifetime” diagnosis that does not disappear when treatment is over.
Where Have All the Lesbians Gone? Not perhaps a question you’ve been asking yourself, but a Channel 4 documentary. Given the broadcaster’s liking for controversy, I feared this would be a new salvo in the transgender wars, especially when it opened by asking: “Is the word ‘lesbian’ toxic?” “Are lesbians being erased?”
But it turned out to be a moving and celebratory film, directed by Brigid Mcfall, a little bit of social history told via a group of women being interviewed about their experiences. They ranged in age from cool young things to a great-grandmother who had grown up in a very different world. “You were married and had children or you were a spinster,” she said of her early life in working-class Newcastle. Only later did she leave her husband and discover what was out there.
She referred to herself as a lesbian, as did others. Some of the younger women preferred “queer”, because they regarded the L-word as having negative connotations – some of them awful (the word “lesbian” being hurled as abuse) and some comic (lesbians being associated with humourlessness, hummus and hairy armpits).
Eventually the programme got on to the trans debate but – praise be! – there was no invective. Just considered opinions. One woman, who had learned to box in her younger years as protection against homophobic assaults, raised a point which should not be overlooked. “What I would like to say to my trans siblings,” she said, was that “some of those women who may be ‘terfs’ have probably been as traumatised as I have. They might have had kids taken off them in the 1980s. So, trans folk, be a little kinder, please.”
The saddest story was from a woman who had grown up in a Christian family. When her parents discovered that she was gay, they threw her out. She was doing her A-levels, had to live in a hostel and spent Christmas Day alone. She still yearns for a hug from her mum, but her parents want nothing to do with her. What shameful behaviour.
Julia Bradbury: Breast Cancer and Me ★★★★
Where Have All the Lesbians Gone? ★★★★