It won’t be around for long so I really should introduce you. In three days time I will go into hospital. Then my cancer should be gone forever.
For something that’s so scary, you’d think it would be absolutely massive. But no, the tumour is tiny. It’s about the size of a pea. When I start to worry I remind myself how small it is.
This is very different to last time.
Back then it was a scan that first picked up the possibility that something was seriously wrong. I watched as a nurse carried out the examination. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to look at the screen of her monitor but I could and I did. It was a confusing blur of colours.
Through a shifting sea of greens and yellows, I could make out two big lumps of blue. One was slightly larger than the other.
Later I found out exactly how big they were. I changed their colour to orange and imagined them as fruit.
Not long after I first became a journalist I worked on a heart-breaking story about a little boy who had a tumour the size of a small melon. Compared to that, my own orange and tangerine didn’t seem too bad.
Now I have just one pea, how dangerous can that be?
Apparently it’s not just about size. It also matters how fast it can grow. What I have is an aggressive form of cancer.
My consultants say that it’s stage three. There are only four stages.
But and this is the crucial bit, it’s been caught early.
The fact I had the disease once and beat it counts in my favour. I go to the gym lots and play netball for the BBC team so I’m pretty fit. Also I’m young and healthy, aside from the cancer, obviously.
All this means that I have a good chance of winning and that’s what I’m focusing on.