I feel f****** terrible because I’ve never given blood and now I need it! I’m forever grateful to that selfless stranger
CANCER doesn't like whiskey, or holidays.
It's not that fond of festivals either, it turns out.
My diseased body isn't so good at fighting off infections as it was, once upon a healthier time.
After my little overnight stay at a French hospital on my hols, I was hell-bent on telling the infection (and my stage 4 bowel cancer) to "do one".
The plan was to be healthy and fighting fit after time in the sun, ready to face my next batch of "nuclear-grade", hardcore chemo head on.
But like a nasty smell, the bug wouldn't shift.
My pre-chemo bloods showed my infection had read the #c*ckoffcancer memo, but blindly ignored it.
Then came the guilt.
Full admission...after getting home from sunny France, I may may have pushed my body a bit too far.
It was one night, just one, but spending it in a freezing cold tent, medicating with wine and paracetamol, covered in lots of glitter at Wilderness festival probably wasn't what the doctor ordered!
So instead of chemo, I was told I would need a blood transfusion.
Freaking out aside – I suddenly was hit by a tidal wave of guilt, guilt at never having given blood myself, before all this!
I had no idea, but it's a common part of the chemo game.
Chemo isn't clever enough to work out which cells to destroy, and which to leave alone.
So it often zaps the good along with the bad.
There and then, once they matched my blood type, I was presented with the bag of my new blood.
Blood that was once inside another person.
And, to be honest with you, I vomited a little bit in my mouth.
I have a pretty strong stomach for anything medical nowadays, and yet I was a little freaked by the process – apparently this is very common!
Freaking aside - I suddenly was hit by a tidal wave of guilt, guilt at never having given blood myself, before all this!
Here I was, willingly accepting and desperately needing some blood (which sick in mouth aside), boy was I grateful for.
As this new blood made its way into me, I started thinking about who had so kindly given me this priceless gift and I wanted to be able to say thank you.
I was blown away and humbled that someone so selflessly had taken their time to donate.
And by doing so they were helping me to live.
My best friend Sarah, who sat reassuring me like a pro, also had her life saved by someone who gave blood.
In June last year, I received a harrowing message from her husband to say she'd collapsed and was in intensive care.
She had suffered a really rare condition, a heterotopic pregnancy, where you have a viable baby in the womb and a burst ectopic pregnancy at the same time.
It's a medical emergency because of the rapid internal bleeding, making it so deadly.
Freaking aside – I suddenly was hit by a tidal wave of guilt, guilt at never having given blood myself, before all this
An emergency sprint into the operating theatre and 15 units of blood later and she gave birth to a healthy baby boy, six months ago.
They are both doing really well, and that's thanks in part to some unsung heroes who kindly donated their blood.
Nearly all of us will accept someone's blood when we know its going to save our life.
But how many of us give back?
I feel f****** terrible that now, I can't - cancer is one of the things that means you can't give blood.
But, instead I'm asking you, doing my bit by shouting out about how important it is.
And I've signed my husband, sister, brother and parents all up this morning.
If you're one of the one million registered donors in the UK already signed up, THANK YOU.
Despite this, less than three per cent of people in England and North Wales between 17 and 70 have donated in the last 12 months.
Every minute, three units of blood are needed to treat people in UK hospitals and every donation you make can save up to three people.
So, if you haven't signed up yet, do it now. It's easier than you think.
It takes less than five minutes on the website...
I've been screwed
Desperate cries from my kids when the tooth fairy forgets to visit are normal in my house.
We have two, Bill and Bob.
Bill is a full-on grumpy fairy who semi-retired years ago and spends his days travelling the world.
He has a few clients, my son included, who keep his tooth fairy pension topped up.
He pays well, but is often late – mainly due to the time differences, travelling required and his love of a Pina Colada.
Bob is a tooth fairy party animal – he's the coolest "Tooth King" in town, is beautifully presented and sometimes chooses shoes instead of money for my daughter.
He always forgets to do anything about the missing tooth, often days later a note appears to say he’s been caught up at the party of the year, hasn’t made it across yet and might never!
In a slightly tipsy state, when my son lost his first tooth, I conjured up these tooth characters.
And my kids love their little notes, even now when they know I'm writing them.
What I failed to do is find out the going rate for teeth!
According to a latest survey, the average going rate is £1.49 per tooth, with dads leaving more than mums.
To say my kids have done well out of their tooth fairies is an understatement, and I’m now feeling a little gutted for being the key sponsor of tooth fairies on tour!
THINGS CANCER MADE ME SAY
#C*ckoffcancer
In good news, I got my latest CT scan results back, and it's all STABLE!
Stable is good, stable we like.
It basically means nothing new (from what we can see) has grown.
While my silly infection has put pay to a little celebration tipple, I'm hoping it won't be long before I can raise a glass of bubbles to toast it.
A massive thank you to all of you who have got into contact with me over the last few weeks to share your story or to give me encouragement – it means more than you will ever know.
Come Join the I’d love to hear from you about #thethingscancermademesay.
Tell me your journey, show off your scars, share what keeps you smiling, or how you are giving two fat fingers to cancer (or anything else for that matter!)
To contact me email [email protected] and follow me on and