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