Tomorrow is the first anniversary of my cancer diagnosis. I’m simultaneously amazed that a year has passed already, and shocked that everything that’s happened over the past year could be crammed into just 12 months. Either way, I’ve decided it’s definitely a date to celebrate. Obviously the initial news itself wasn’t quite what I was hoping for, but seeing as the lump was there, I’m very glad I found it as soon as I did. And as stressful, manic, exhausting and downright terrifying as the year that followed proved to be, I can’t be anything but grateful for the treatment I’ve had, let alone the fact that everything has gone so amazingly well so far.

Amongst the difficult times have been a surprising number of good ones. Mainly involving fabulous people, sometimes animals, often food. Occasionally all three (a New Year’s Eve party at which a small group of us, including two cats, dressed up as Star Wars characters and enjoyed a delicious three course meal, for example). A superb experience, and I can’t even stand Star Wars.

I’ve still got a way to go with treatment. And plenty of work to do to get ‘back on track’. Or find a new track, maybe. Who knows. But reflecting on the difference between where I was this time last year, and where I am now, whatever the future holds just doesn’t seem all that daunting anymore. It might not be easy, and it won’t all be rosy, but (as Esther would say), that’s life. And I know I can do it. Whatever ‘it’ is. Well, as long as it includes friends, a couple of cats, and a regular supply of ice-cream sundaes.

Thanks, 7 October 2015. You kicked off a tough year. But a good one.