Six Years & Counting

In the 12 months since my discharge from the Queen Elizabeth Hospital, Birmingham, I have done my utmost to distance myself from kidney cancer. This has not been easy.
For one thing, it's brought a lot of guilty feelings surrounding the support I received as a patient. I was fortunate to discover Kidney Cancer UK and the Kidney Cancer Support Network, both of which offered unfailing help and excellent advice. Having been an established Twitter user prior to kidney cancer due to my fashion business, my followers were subsequently given lessons in medical terminology when my cancer diagnosis was made; hence the fashion victim to cancer survivor tag. Getting signed off was like being cut free and as such, I dropped away from the group pages and forums that had been there for me during treatment. It makes me feel I've turned my back on others needing that support now. I just needed normal, without cancer if that makes sense?
I did, however, discover running during my recuperation which in turn led to some fundraising. Again, my Twitter feed became a source of running and nutritional posts during this two year period as I went from 5K to a marathon, raising over £2,000 in the process for the charities. It also introduced me to Facing up 2 Kidney Cancer another charity that gave me wonderful support.
Getting back to work post-cancer wasn't easy. I had a couple of false starts following health setbacks and a drop in confidence. The fashion industry is a fickle business as well as being extremely superficial, at times it just didn't sit right with me. I sold my vintage stock and dropped the tribute work to concentrate on the ethical side of my business, reworking and upcycling clothing. I then switched track completely and went forward making activewear, influenced by my running habit and new found love of yoga. Before too long I was doing both and the pop fashion was creeping back in. Now I pretty much do it all! One business idea I am proud of is the hospital gown design I created. Obviously, this stemmed from having to wear so many gowns myself that I determined to make a more user-friendly option. The Coverstory Dignity Gown is still in its infancy but will definitely remain part of my business thanks to my kidney cancer experience.
In hindsight, I do feel I can thank kidney cancer for my new direction. There were lifestyle changes I needed to make. A cancer diagnosis is a drastic way to stop you in your tracks but it gave me more to live for.
Writing has always been a part of my life and post cancer it was a natural way to make sense of what happened. The blog progressed and became the start of a book which led me to join Tamworth Writers; another positive step forward.
I can't write and update without mentioning my current health status. As a patient, I researched frequently what the prognosis of a kidney cancer diagnosis would be. My tumour was 7" and contained in the left kidney. When it introduced itself it haemorrhaged, which is why my diagnosis was sudden and shocking. I had no symptoms that I can remember so being rushed via blue light ambulance that morning was a total head f**k. Maybe because of that, I'll never be entirely confident everything will be ok. I was left with some nerve damage as the surgery was invasive due to the large bleed, this has left me with ongoing back and abdominal pain. I get frequent water infections, not sure why? I have regular blood tests for kidney function and have recently had issues with substantial bruising, again not sure why (I've not been fighting). All in all, cancer in whatever form it takes never really leaves you. They can cut it out, zap it with chemo and radiotherapy or feed you concoctions of drugs but the seed of it remains. Whether you choose to believe that is a real entity or just the seed of fear in your head is again not of your choosing. On good days it's a bad dream on others it's as real as a diagnosis. That is my experience and the legacy kidney cancer left.
On a final note, I'd like to thank the Tamworth Wellbeing & Cancer Support Centre which I've visited frequently. The work they do there is incredible (and they now have the coolest charity ambassador in Joe Lycett!) From the first time I stepped through their doors several years ago I had an epiphany, that realisation that I was part of a select group, I had cancer. Before that, it was someone else's problem, another person's illness. Cancer introduced me to some of the kindest most thoughtful people I've ever met, many form this wonderful charity.
For everyone else who has entered my world as a result of kidney cancer, thank you - life wouldn't be the same without you.
Debbie XXX

My Unfashionable Cancer Marathon

It’s 8.57 on 13^th May 2018. I’m amongst around 2000 runners waiting for the countdown to Shakespeare Marathon in Stratford on Avon. Alongside me on the other side of the railings are my husband, youngest daughter and her fiancé, more excited I think than I am.

I’m wearing the same gear I had on for the Birmingham Half Marathon seven months ago, green vest printed on the back with the charities I’m running for and on the front Missfit, my business and social media name.  My leggings are a multicoloured design called Hip Hop that I made myself. The race number 1018 is attached to the front of my vest top with race clips that read ‘Run Like You Stole Something’ and my Asics trainers have a colourful graffiti pattern, I guess I’m quite noticeable. Normally I run in a cap but I’ve opted to wear sunglasses and hope the sun doesn’t make too strong an appearance, I overheat easily. The most important piece of kit I have on is my Garmin watch to help pace myself.

During training my pace has increased the further I’ve run. Previously I set an average time of 8.30 when running shorter distances. I’d ambitiously set out to run a marathon pace of 9.30, what a fool I was. The seconds ticked over into minutes the longer I ran until I hoped for a marathon pace of around 10.20. The bib number 1018 gave me hope that I may match that on race day.

As we wait in Stratford town centre I’m approached by a man who holds out his hand and tells me what an inspiration I am, he’s read the local news story about my marathon attempt. All around me are runners wearing charity vests. MacMillan used to be the most popular with Cancer UK always having a good show. Today it seemed that Mind, the mental health charity that came out tops probably to coincide with mental health awareness week. Next to me is a very nervous young lady, it’s her first attempt at a half marathon, both full and half start the course together with full doing a second lap. She’s envious of my support team who are encouraging me as we wait for the klaxon.
The guy starting the race is Steve Edwards, world record marathoner running his 822^nd marathon this will be his 22^nd Shakespeare Marathon the first having been in 1985. The start rope is lowered and we begin to move forward, slowly at first then momentum gathers. We cross the timing mat at the start line and the small chip attached to everyone’s trainers is activated, the race has begun. Some of us will be running for just over an hour others for more than six hours. The distances each have a different coloured bib, for the marathon mine is red, most around me seem to be white for the half.

For the first part of the run we skirt around the town centre where support from spectators is excellent. Stratford on Avon is the most picturesque town I’ve run through but my focus is on getting into a steady pace.  Negotiating bends and keeping away from the barriers takes concentration with so many runners for a while, I have a dread of tripping over and ending my race at the beginning. I’d been positioned relatively near the front of the crowd at the start which meant I was being passed by more experienced and/or energetic starters. Avoiding feet and elbows was tricky until the road widened and we ran out into more suburban streets then out for a short stretch on the Evesham Road.

By this time the field was evening out more. We reached the first drinks station just after mile two, I always run with my own water bottle.  For this race I added an electrolyte tablet as with one kidney I worry about dehydration. In a running belt I also carried two energy gels and some jelly babies. I don’t normally run with my phone but carried it so that I had contact with my husband – just in case. For the next couple of miles we wound around country lanes and then started to ascend to the village of Luddington. My hill training paid off as this barely challenged me. There was already a queue waiting for the loo at the first WC station just before the four mile marker, thankfully that urge wasn’t on me, yet. We wound around more country lanes and past houses whose occupants made the special effort to stand out and cheer us on. Kids holding bowls of jelly babies and motivational music along the route are always welcome together with the shouts of encouragement and there was no shortage here. My favourite resident was the guy spraying passing runners with a hose pipe, I was straight through that no messing.

By now runners had begun to settle in to their pace and small groups were forming. I’d run past a couple of people only to be overtaken by them a little further on. Faces and charity vests became familiar as well as running styles. Quite a few runners were ‘Jeffing’ by now, the run/walk method so called as it was taught by Jeff Galloway as a way to increase distance and endurance. I was overtaken by a guy dressed in full Shakespeare costume who must have been sweltering as the heat was really turning up by mid morning. Then I heard an odd squeaking noise approaching and turned to see a man carrying what appeared to be a large backpack heading past me. As he moved in front I could see it was a huge rubber boob complete with nipple, two hand prints and the slogan Cop-A-Feel, a breast cancer charity. I ran behind the squeaky boob for about 4 miles.

As we neared mile eight the hill appeared. I’d heard about Rumer Hill and my husband drove me over it a couple of weeks before the race to familiarise me with the course. Facing it on foot was another thing entirely but I kept running, reaching the brow was a real achievement. Just after this on the first lap we turned off and headed back picking up the Greenway near to mile ten which is a gritty surfaced trail along a disused railway line. This track had a slight incline and by this time the sun, which had hovered around all morning decided to come out and play fully. For me this was the toughest part so far, there was hardly any shelter from the suns rays and the incline was taking its toll. The worst part was knowing that shortly before mile twelve we would split from the half marathon runners and it would be game on for the big one. The cut off point for the full marathon was if the first 11.9 miles was not completed in 2hrs25. I passed this point at around 2hrs5.

We crossed an old iron bridge spanning the Avon before reaching another drinks station and WC point at the divide. The most welcome sight here were volunteers handing out wet sponges from a large barrel. I made good use of one on my head and back. It had dawned on me earlier as the sun beat down that I’d forgotten sun lotion and I could feel myself slowly frying. As we parted from the shorter distance and headed past mile twelve I felt like crying. It was the realisation I had it all to do again and more.

As we curved around back out onto the main road I knew I could take it easier as I’d reached the marathon stage before cut off. It wasn’t long before I stopped to take a walk and text my husband to let him know I was on lap two. He’d hoped to see me at the half way point so I’d presumed he’d not made it on time.  It turned out he’d been directed to the wrong place and saw only the half marathoner’s heading back.

I checked my Garmin as we reached the half way point 13.1 miles, my personal best had been 2hrs 8 minutes and I was falling behind this by over five minutes. I heard a couple of runners behind me discussing how it had taken us longer to reach this stage than it had for Paula Radcliffe to complete a full marathon. The thought of running the entire course again was now beginning to fill me with dread. The sun was getting stronger and shade we’d enjoyed earlier now all but gone. Approaching 14 miles we were leaving the town behind again and heading out on country roads.

It was now more apparent that more than half the field of runners had opted for the half marathon. Those of us still going were spread out along the undulating roads, at some bends I felt as though I were running alone. Climbing the hill at Luddington again was tough, I’d taken to Jeffing myself by this time and hills were a definite walk pace. I also took advantage of the portaloo, no queues now, not even another runner in sight. On we ran through picturesque villages, past pubs which were by now filling up with lunchtime customers who cheered us on. When the 18 mile marker appeared I knew what would be next, Rumer Hill part two. This time I don’t think I could’ve run had I wanted to, my legs were beginning to feel painful. I couldn’t even trot down the hill as my toes were also feeling sore. I took advantage of my more leisurely pace this time to take a photo from the top of the hill, it was a beautiful view.

This time around we kept straight on taking a longer route through Long Marston and down to join Greenway South. The 20 mile marker felt surprisingly good as I told myself it was just a 10k run to the finish, 10k’s nothing, I run it often, just not after 20 miles! What I didn’t anticipate was the ferocity of the sun by this time. I’d already topped my water bottle up once and by mile 21 had to stop to refill it again. There were very few running now, I think we were all Jeffing. Passing each other back and forth. I’d set my sights on a woman called Hannah who’d passed me earlier and was determined not to let her out of my sight, but as she edged out of view I knew I was fading.

Mile 22 was my wall. I’d text my husband to let him know how far I’d got and tried to remain positive but I felt beaten.  Although there was only just over four miles to go it felt an impossible task. The gravel pathway seemed to keep rising along the horizon and there was little shelter from the sun. I could feel my shoulders sizzling and my head was aching. As for my legs, they didn’t even feel as though they belonged to me. At mile 23 there came relief by way of another bucket of sponges, cold water down the back of my neck gave me a boost and I pushed on. I took a photo of the mile 24 marker so my husband would know I was nearing the finish line. Normally the remaining distance would take me around 15 minutes but with my pace dropping to a staggering (literally) 11 minute mile it was going to drag. Along this last stretch was the official race photographer who called for me to look across and smile. Surprisingly I look remarkably fresh in the resulting photo – obviously wasn’t pushing hard enough!

The final stretch took us off the Greenway and back along a road before a sharp turn down a small track that lead to the recreation ground and finish line. I managed to maintain a steady jog now, every muscle in my legs ached and my toes were very sore but I wanted to run to the end. As the main field came into sight so did my husband who, after shouting encouragement while I plodded towards him then ran alongside me till we reached the final stretch. I was on my own running down to the finish, my name was announced and I was  praised on my choice of leggings. Crossing that finish line was incredibly emotional. I’d imagined it over and over, from first applying through training and along the route that day. The finish line was hugely significant marking 5 years since my cancer diagnosis. My daughter and her fiancé held up a banner alongside my husband as I crossed the line. The medal was hung around my neck and I collected some water and a much needed banana.

My tears came as soon as I met my family. It was such a huge achievement. I’d proved that a cancer diagnosis wouldn’t hold me back in any way. In fact I’d achieved far more in the past 5 years and was probably fitter now than ever. As for my time, 5 hours 15 minutes and 52 seconds. A far cry from my predicted 4.30-5 hours but a result I’m extremely proud of nonetheless. Things I learnt from running a marathon; there’s nothing wrong with jeffing, respect those hills, don’t forget your suncream, carry business cards – I’d have sold loads of my leggings and most important it’s tougher than you think. I said that this would be my one and only marathon and I stick to that statement. Many people have told me I’ll change my mind but I’m very sure I won’t. Long distance running is not for me. I ran a marathon for a specific reason, I trained thoroughly and ran it to the best of my ability. I chose Shakespeare Marathon because it was so well run with more than half the proceeds going to local charities. The marshals were all volunteers who along with the organisers made the race extra special. As I'm also writing a book it seemed the most apt marathon to enter and of course it's a beautiful setting - I'd highly recommend it.

Thank you so much to everyone who has supported and sponsored my milestone race. To date I've raised over £1400 which will go to kidney cancer research and patient care via Kidney Cancer Support Network & Facing Up To Kidney Cancer.
I am now a marathon runner and a cancer survivor.

Unfashionable Cancer Marathon

It's no secret that I applied to run the London Marathon this year. To be fair at the time I really did want to take part. I knew that ballot entry was a long shot but it’s not unknown for first timers to get in.

As October drew nearer and results of the draw were imminent I’d begun to change my mind. When the magazine finally dropped through the letterbox I was praying I’d been unsuccessful. On seeing the word ‘Sorry’ I breathed a huge sigh of relief, what had I been thinking?

My change of heart came about for a variety of reasons but it was running the Birmingham Half Marathon last October that really swayed me. Despite being proud of my achievement and enjoying taking part, I didn’t like the razzmatazz that went with it. Realising that I was amongst around 9,000 marathon runners and 12,000 half marathon competitors didn’t excite me. Knowing that for London Marathon there would be more than 40,000 filled me with dread.

I’ve already blogged about my half marathon so won’t go on but we were so packed in at times it wasn’t possible to run at a steady pace. Having trained so hard for so long I’d always intended to not only complete it but to compete in it. Therefore once I’d received my ‘No’ from London I set out to find the most suitable full marathon course for my first attempt at the distance.

In the meantime I was getting frequent messages of sympathy about being unsuccessful with a London place together with advice about securing one through the big charities. This however was another of the reasons I was now firmly against entering this event. I have signed up to run for two of the charities that mean most to me but they don’t have the kind of money needed to get charity runners into London. Why then would I turn my back on them and attempt to raise on average £2,000 for an organisation I have no affiliation with. This was a big deal to me.

When (or should I say if) I cross that marathon finish line it will be the end of a very difficult journey.

In March 2018 I will celebrate the most significant cancerversary, the 5 year goal. I’m careful not to tempt fate by saying 5 years free but rather since diagnosis and so far so good. Running has been my greatest escape and also given me a goal. I’m running away from cancer and towards a healthier future. Being able to complete a marathon will reaffirm my fitness level and further smash away those nagging doubts about stowaways. More than that I will cross the line knowing I’ve given something back to the charities that have helped and supported me through the past 5 years.

I had to give my full marathon choice some considerable thought; not too big, not too far away, not too commercial, at the right time of year. I needed it to be just about the run. I’d hovered over one particular location for a while, everything fitted the bill but there was one more plus. 

The Shakespeare Marathon in Stratford on Avon has an entry limit of 4,000, it’s run in May and organised by the Rotary Club who donate more than half the money raised to local charities.  All of these tick a box for me but the added extra is that as I’m writing a book about my experience, what better inspiration to follow than the bard himself.

There it is, I’m signed up and ready to train for the big one, my first full

marathon on Sunday 13^th May, 2018

Wish me luck!

On My Marks!

This Sunday 15th October I will run in the Simply Health Great Birmingham Run. I've entered the half marathon distance and have run the 13.1 miles twice now. My training began when I entered back in April this year so I will have been preparing for 6 months.
During this time my running routine has consisted of training Tuesday's and Thursdays when I'll do between 3 and 4 miles each time. I've tried to treat the 5k (3.1 mile) runs as speed training and now average around 8.40 per mile, around 26 minutes total.
At the weekend I've focused on longer runs of 5 miles plus. Both of the 13.1 mile distances I've achieved in 2.03 hrs which is pleasing. On Sunday I want to push myself if possible and try to complete in less than 2 hours - a big ask!
Since I started running at the end of 2014 I've learnt a lot about myself. I have far more stamina than I realised and have surprised myself with how competitive I am. Running has helped focus my mind as well as improve general fitness which has also benefited from a better diet while training.
Where I used to dwell on worries and concerns about my health I have found running a way to quieten my mind. When I run that is all I do, put one foot in front of the other and breathe. Knowing I can run, seeing the progress I make and feeling my heart pounding gives me huge reassurance. I'm one step ahead.
I have chosen to raise funds for two charities close to my heart. The first, Facing up to Kidney Cancer is one I've supported previously. All monies go directly into a kidney cancer research project at University College London. The second, Kidney Cancer Support Network is a patient led charity supporting the needs of patients and carers going through this disease. Donations can be made through my Total Giving Page, An Unfashionable Cancer Marathon.

In 2018 I will be running a full marathon. I turn 50 at the end of this year and March 2018 marks 5 years since my surgery to remove my left kidney. At that time I would never have thought I'd be able to run let alone run 26.2 miles. By taking on this challenge I hope to show others coping with kidney cancer that it is possible to achieve many things. I am one of the lucky ones, recovery has granted me the ability to run. It has also given me other opportunities including writing and yoga. In turn my new found passion for fitness has lead me to change my business model, I now make and sell activewear through my own business Missfit. Cancer doesn't have to be the end, there can be new beginnings no matter how small.
My goal to raise £1000 has already passed the halfway mark which is amazing. On Sunday I get to run a half marathon race for the first time in my family home town of Birmingham. Hopefully along the way I will raise much needed awareness of kidney cancer as well as increasing the fundraising.
I've made myself some leggings ready for the occasion, hopefully they'll stand out but don't blink, you may miss me ;-)
Debbie X

No Holds Barred - A Good Appointment

I'm currently still in the process of putting this blog into book format. To do so has meant fictionalising all of the characters, myself included along with hospital names, places etc.
I've edited the blog itself considerably and it's always written in retrospect, I don't publish events as they happen. The book will be largely unedited, hence the fictionalisation - I can't possibly use real names or hospitals, it wouldn't be fair.
Not as much actually happens now I'm four years on - thankfully! I have however recently had my four year check up at the Queen Elizabeth hospital Birmingham.
This was my first proper appointment with the specialist nurse and having found her so helpful when we met initially last year I was really looking forward to seeing her again.
It was an excellent appointment and she was so helpful answering all my questions and reassuring me no end. We're almost the same age, a year apart and have the same birthday. Even better, she's also a runner - a very good one!
The following is my write up of how that appointment began, from a shaky start I came away feeling pleased that I'd made the change to the QE.
The journey I've been on via two other hospitals is not the norm, in an ideal world I'd never have had to move. This appointment gave me the opportunity to tell the nurse what events led to my being one of her patients. I needed her to know what I'd been through to better understand my fears. What I really wanted was for her to know who I was and why I was really there. The account I gave was the unedited version.

My glasses were steaming up. I’d had a few tears earlier, it was probably that along with the heat of the car. I’m used to 6 gears and air con but my Mom’s Micra screamed at over 60 miles per hour and the blowers felt like they were on gas mark 6. Today’s journey was not pleasant but I was determined to get there.

The QE has a few different approaches so I’d left my phone’s sat nav running for when I neared the hospital. Unfortunately, as I turned off the A38 so did my phone, I glanced down to read, ‘phone apps are shutting down due to overheating’. Brilliant.

The hospital loomed up ahead of me, the suns rays illuminating it’s spherical outlines and then, like a mirage it vanished. I negotiated one mini roundabout after another, catching glimpses of the monster medical centre then losing sight straight after. Signs beckoning me towards my destination, I followed excitedly catching sight of a multistorey car park. Pulling up to the barrier I read, ‘Staff Only’. Shit!

Taking a deep breath I reversed back onto the neverending QE highway and continued circumnavigating Britain’s biggest hospital. With twenty minutes to spare I managed to locate some patient parking near the old building which meant a lengthy treck over to the new centre where outpatients was held.

The beautiful weather had brought people out into the sunshine. The lawns in front of the main entrance resembled a park, people lay reading books, eating ice creams and chatting with family and friends. The difference here was the number held up by crutches, struggling with slings and laying on trolley beds with drips attached.

Once inside the huge entrance to the main building it’s hard to know where to look, every which way – including upwards, is bustling with activity. I passed through the first reception area into the second to await my call to the third. Each seated waiting area is distinguished by it’s seat colour, I was sent to the blue chairs to watch scrolling screens that intermittently flashed up patients names with instructions of where to go next. I looked around, all heads faced the screens, no one wanted to miss their turn. I’d planned on going through my notes for the nurse but found myself glued to the screen, I was still ten minutes early.

It was now that I felt alone. I’d insisted on going by myself, no point taking anyone else along, after all it was to discuss my results and ongoing care. Sitting in this huge hospital amongst so many other patients now made me feel quite lonely.

Maybe it was to do with the call I’d had earlier though, that had really knocked my confidence. I’d been waiting for this appointment a long time. It was to be my first one with a specialist nurse and the first at the QE since I met the consultant when first referred. For me it was the first normal appointment in 3 years and I’d prepared questions that had been with me almost that long.

Earlier that day I’d had a call from the nurse suggesting I may want to have my blood tests done locally. She said as they were happy with my scan results and it was a long way I could save myself a journey to the appointment. I’d been stood in Morrisons with my trolley and I was completely taken aback. Having prepared for this day for so long, sorting the car, writing my notes, was she seriously suggesting it may be a waste of my time? My tears started to fall. I explained how important today was to me, how I’d hoped it would help put past bad experience behind me. Was my 3^rd hospital also trying to get rid of me.

The nurse was very apologetic and reassured me it was nothing of the sort, she genuinely thought I may find the treck over a waste of time. I remained firm that I needed this appointment and so it was left. Now as I sat waiting amongst a sea of patients in this vast space I felt very small and insignificant. Part of me just wanted to walk away, what was the point?

In no time I saw my name splashed across the screen with an arrow directing me onwards. I made my way through to the final waiting room and had barely sat down when my name was called, bang on 2pm.

The specialist nurse, whom I’d met once before came to greet me and smiling took my hand and led the way to a consultation room. She was lovely, just as I’d remembered her. The words of my daughter rang true in my head. After the call earlier she’d spoken to me and said the call I’d received that morning was a mistake, the nurse had simply misread things and called it wrong. To be fair she had no idea what I’d gone through previously and why I was now at this hospital.

Reaching into my bag I took out my prepared notes, she was about to find out.

That Time of Year

It's exactly 4 years since I was whisked off to hospital and discovered I had kidney cancer. It's a weird one because as anniversaries go it's not a particularly pleasant one but at the same time it's unforgettable and stops me in my tracks.
It should be the time of year when I'd  be having my annual scan but due to my haphazard hospital record, scans have been missed, forgotten and therefore later each time. I received a letter telling me my next appointment would be April 24th, I've had this date for several months. It occurred to me recently though that a scan date hadn't come through so I phoned to check it out. I was told that the April date was a mistake and the consultant hadn't asked for me to be scanned until June and so my appointment will be moved back until the results are in.
This is totally understandable and really not an issue, I mean scans aren't something to look forward to anyway. Why then, when I put down the phone did my tears come? I think it's the need to know that everything is ok.
Four years is good going and so close to that 5 year goal that I don't want it to drag on, I want my reassurance at around the same time I have that anniversary. It's the time I can't avoid thinking about it so it'd be good to get the scan and annual check up over and done with.
On that fateful day 4 years ago I was blissfully unaware of the tumour lurking in my kidney and my wardrobe held very little by way of comfortable clothing - ever the fashionista. I can laugh now about my poor husband frantically searching for something suitable to put me in as I flat refused to go to hospital in my jimjams. The only trousers he could find with an elasticated waist also had a lining - Gwen Stefani obviously didn't design them with emergency department urgency in mind. As John attempted to ease me into them I was sliding around the laminate floor in agony, oh the memories...
Fast forward and I not only possess a large quantity of lycra clothing but I've also diversified from alternative fashion to designing and making active wear and I love it. In keeping with my new comfort driven wardrobe I've been doing yoga for the past 3 years, I run whenever I can and eat more healthily than I've ever done.
For me this is proof that cancer, although being an almighty bastard that sneaks up and takes the legs from under you, can sometimes lead to more positive life changes. I readily admit that I'm one of the lucky ones, although still on the radar awaiting the 4 year all clear I'll only have 12 more months left till the 5 year goal.
It's also steered me to another passion, writing. Early ambitions of becoming a journalist never materialised and I'd more or less given up until I became ill. The need to keep a diary led to this blog which in turn I'm now putting into book format. To help with this process I joined a writing group and have been churning out short stories and poems ever since, who'd have thought?!
Cancer in a bizarre twist has given me a new lease of life, one where I'm finding real purpose in my work and being able to express myself through writing. It's also failed to take away my sense of humour and to mark this auspicious anniversary I chose those Gwen Stefani trousers to wear today. We've come a long way together and I reckon I'm prepared for anything now.

A Kidney Cancer Retrospective

This time last year I was asked to speak at the James Whale Kidney Cancer Fund (now Kidney Cancer UK) Information Day in Birmingham. To say I was nervous was an understatement but it wasn't only talking in front of an audience but also the content that I'd written which worried me.
Not having had the best experience - not that I think you can have a good 'kidney cancer' encounter, I was concerned that my account would frighten any newly diagnosed patients present. When I'd finished reading I felt no better about it despite a nice round of applause and some positive comments, but I remember leaving that day feeling quite lost. I hadn't thought that talking about it helped me or anyone else, speaking out loud was quite different from sitting behind a laptop writing a blog.
I'm spending a lot of time reflecting on what I went through and reading through my blog posts while I work on my book An Unfashionable Cancer. In order to tell my story I've had to fictionalise characters, including myself and my family and most especially the hospitals and medical staff. This means I'm beginning to view my story from another perspective which is helping in an odd kind of way. Instead of me telling the story it's being told through my alter ego in the book and this is strangely cathartic.
One of the things I've begun to realise is that it wasn't because I had kidney cancer that my time in hospital was so awful, that just happened to be the reason I was there. Neither was it my condition that caused delays with treatments, results, appointments or virtually any of the bad practice. I can't deny that being signed off less than 12 months after diagnosis wasn't confined to my being a kidney cancer patient as I'm pretty sure most cancer patients wouldn't be dismissed like this. However, it was again another case of poor hospital procedure rather than something only kidney cancer patients have to suffer.
I suppose what I'm starting to see is the fact I had kidney cancer was a major shock but that my treatment for this should be so diabolical was pure bad luck.
Throughout this blog I've not included my family much, neither have I elaborated on my life as a whole. In the book I'm able to include my family and friends as well as show how kidney cancer affected my life in general, from fashion designer to cancer patient.
This too has highlighted just what a radical change I went through and I've been able to reflect on how I felt then and what I feel now. For a long while I was angry and confused and felt the lifestyle and business I'd been running was superficial and had contributed to my illness. Now I can see that it was my illness that made me feel that way, I was going through a terrible time and couldn't make sense of what was happening so instead shut everything out.
I've got a long way to go to finish my book and expect it will continue to be an emotional rollercoaster. In the meantime I have returned to work fully and although not doing all the fashion shows and photoshoots I was before, I am enjoying looking back and feel a lot of pride in what I achieved, definitely a step in the right direction.

It's All Write

I've been asked a few times whether I'd turn this blog into a book and I'd dismissed this for a long while. The main reason for not wanting to share the whole story as it were is because I would be publishing information about people and places, some of whom would rather I not share it. 
Although there is of course mention in this blog about where I was treated and it's not difficult to work out by whom, some of my experience wasn't pleasant and I have no wish to raise issue with either the hospitals or the doctors.
Originally I wrote notes to record what was happening to me, the blog grew from that as I felt publishing it would highlight both the disease and the need for better treatment and research. At no point, despite failures with my care, did I want to pursue a complaint, it wouldn't have made me feel any better.
I suppose what's been hardest to do is to have had to search for information about kidney cancer, push for treatment options, even plead for results. This is why my blog has been so important to me and has obviously been read by so many others, there's a need to know more.
A few months ago I began reading back through my blog and going through my medical notes in order to find a way to put it all into a book format. There was only one way forward and that was to fictionalise my account, a story based on true events. No real names or places means that I can elaborate on what happened and produce a comprehensive story, leaving nothing out.
While writing the blog I've been careful not to mention some events as they're either too personal to me or else to someone involved in my treatment. By novelising this I can bring individual characters to life - just not name and shame. It's also a little easier to write about some of the things I found it hard to publicise, the gory details.
It's not all medical terminology and surgery scars, it has given me the opportunity to give a bit of my back story, the fashion business that came before and which inspired my blog title.
My book An Unfashionable Cancer is now well under way and will bear the same tag line;
'From running a fashion business to waking up with kidney cancer, a journey from fashion victim to cancer survivor'
I've a long way to go still as although the pages are already there I am having to rewrite every part, no easy task. My own story is still ongoing but I'm over the half way point now, three and a half years into that goal of five years cancer free. By putting the whole thing into print I hope I'll be able to close this chapter of my life and finally move on. Unfortunately though many others are only just waking up to kidney cancer so the need to raise awareness of this will continue.
If I can help kidney cancer awareness either through the blog or the book it'll be a story worth telling.