There's something about Kevin

When I got my first job in advertising, I was absolutely thrilled. I worked at a fantastic agency, and developed friendships that endure to this day. What made it particularly wonderful, was that I worked with the loveliest people. One of whom, was Kev. One half of a creative team, Kev was a gifted, witty and genuine man; a superb writer and all-round good guy. He was absolutely dedicated to his family, and he and his creative partner always spoke in such glowing terms about their wives, and in Kev's case, his girls, that it provided me with a blueprint for my future relationships. He was always the last on the dancefloor at awards events and often had to face the wrath of waiting taxi drivers. Also, in the office he used to sing and whistle infectious tunes that you couldn't shake off all day.

So why am I telling you all this?

Well, Kev had cancer, a cancer that he eventually died of. When we worked together first time round, someone had mentioned that he had cancer, and I noticed that he had made modifications to his office chair, as I believe he suffered from back pain. Although I had an Uncle that died of cancer when I was young, and a cousin who died from cancer before I was born, I had limited experience of what a devastating effect cancer can have. When we worked together a second time, I was slightly more aware that Kev had to work from home sometimes after radiotherapy treatments, but I only found out afterwards that he had been given a projection about how long he had to live. Amazingly, with all this going on, he always maintained an upbeat mood and never once complained about his condition.

When Kev died, I wanted to do something in his memory. I applied for a voluntary role at my local Early Detection of Cancer service. My role was (ironically as it happens) to go out into the community and talk to people about the three most common cancers (breast, brain and bowel) and advise them to seek help if they were exhibiting any symptoms.

I truly believe that this helped to save my life. The training included a video of an early stage cancer (which looked like a small white pea), and then an advanced cancer that had wrapped itself around the entire bowel, making it impossible to operate on. I will never forget that image, and made a firm note to self that if I ever had any suspicious symptoms that I would act quickly.

Well, as regular readers of this blog know, I did have suspicious symptoms, I did act quickly and I'm still here to tell the tale. I told Kev's wife that he saved my life. He could save yours too. So don't ignore the signs, listen to your body and go straight to the GP if you identify any changes (even subtle ones). It's part of his legacy and I hope, part of mine.

Amanda

When I was a kid...

...the ultimate career aspiration was to be a brain surgeon. I had toyed briefly with the idea of becoming Prime Minister (well in the early '80s, that was already proven to be a real option for a young, ambitious girl). As I grew up though, I realised a pre-requisite of the job was at least a vague awareness of, or interest in, politics, and I had neither. I also had an absolute love and passion for words; that's why it's so incredible to have a career in which writing plays a critical part.

I have many, many heroines: strong, intelligent women who have excelled academically, professionally and personally, all in their own unique way. Many of whom I am fortunate enough to call friends.

However, one of my recent heroines is a woman who I have trusted with the one thing I have always treasured and valued above all others - my brain.

She is a neuro-surgeon at my local hospital and conducted both my brain surgeries.

Only after I woke up after my second operation (to remove a large, malignant tumour in my brain, the second that Triple Negative breast cancer had created in a matter of a few weeks) did I realise the enormity of what she had done for me. My life, my brain and my future had been quite literally, in her hands.

Using her incredible skills, not once but twice, was a momentous and (fortunately not) mind-blowing act. Beforehand, she had confidently told me that however many times the brain tumour came back (and the expectation was that it would), she would keep on removing it. And I trusted her implicitly, although after the second surgery, I hope, in the best way possible, that I never have to benefit from her brilliance again. She also said to me that we were 'in this together', and that it would be up to me to stay fit, take care of myself and follow her instructions on my recovery. I liked this sentiment, although of the two of us, mine was effectively a bit-part in this mammoth production.

So it's been two years since she opened my brain for the second time, she, like many other incredible women has made an enormous, indelible imprint on my life and 'grateful' doesn't really come close to how I feel about this phenomenal woman. I'd like to blame her for my ineptitude at Scrabble and my complete inability to follow directions, but unfortunately they pre-dated her interventions. Today, two years later, I comb my hair over my scar and marvel that her amazing artistry and God's supervision have given me an incredible gift. Thank you.

Amanda

This CT scan shows the extent of Amanda's cancerous brain tumour when she was hospitalised in May 2015

Lost and found

WARNING: This post contains several mixed metaphors

Now cancer can be a bit of a thief, stealing from those it affects and leaving a gaping hole in its wake. But as time progresses and a 'new normal' emerges, those losses can be re-interpreted as gains.

LOST
Long blonde hair

FOUND
A contemporary and low maintenance bob

LOST
The stresses and strains of a busy life

FOUND
A new attitude of gratitude and peace

LOST
A scar-free and (mostly) functional body

FOUND
Awe that my body that was able to withstand aggressive treatments

LOST
Twenty years of relentless migraines

FOUND
A clear head (I mean, WOW!), a CLEAR HEAD!!!

LOST
Tunnel vision on completing task after task

FOUND
The joy of seeing the beauty in the everyday things

LOST
A focus on daily irritants

FOUND
The ability to transcend the mundane and celebrate each new day

LOST
Taking life for granted

FOUND
A powerful thrill that despite the odds, you are STILL HERE!

LOST
The expectation of a 'three score and ten' life

FOUND
The realisation that every day is a gift from God

It's easy to get caught up in the sometimes relentless daily grind, but a brush with death can not only sharpen your focus, but also stimulate your senses and open your eyes to what's great about the world. So, today, despite the weather/money worries/relationship issues/a massive 'to do' list/a stressful week ahead*, then open your eyes, and I mean, REALLY open your eyes to what's great about YOUR world. You'll be glad you did.

Amanda

*delete as appropriate