It’s that time of year again, when a familiar message whispers through the trees, dancing on the air, pulling us in.
Stay very still. Listen carefully. You’ll be able to hear it.
That’s right folks, it’s Race for Life season. If you have followed our journey from the start, you might want to skip the next few paragraphs – you probably know the story better than me at this stage.
For those just joining us…welcome to the party.
This is a story all about how
my life got flipped and turned upside down.
So why don’t you take a moment, just sit right there
and I’ll tell you how cancer tried to kill my mum and ruin my life.
When I was sixteen, my mum was diagnosed with cervical cancer. My sister Sophie was twelve. I had never been so afraid in my entire life. I don’t think any of us had. Luckily for all of us, advances funded by Cancer Research in early detection and treatment meant that my mum made a full recovery and celebrated her five years clear a few years ago. She now spends her time drinking cocktails, compulsively booking cruises and throwing dance parties in her kitchen.
My mum is the bravest, strongest person that I know. I talk a lot about her kicking cancer’s ass. But the truth is, cancer doesn’t give a toss how brave or strong you are. Bravery and strength isn’t what saved my mum – although her bravery and strength saved the rest of us a million times over.
Twenty-four years ago, my dad lost a mother who was just as brave and as strong as mine. The leaps forward that Cancer Research have made meant that I didn’t lose mine.
Every year, I think this story will get easier to tell, but it doesn’t. I will never forget that it is because of Cancer Research that my mum was around to do my makeup for my prom, and for my sister’s. She drove us both to University and cheered at my graduation. We got to walk her down the aisle, and maybe someday, she’ll return the favour. I will always and forever be indebted to Cancer Research, to everyone who has donated, to the amazing scientists, nurses and carers who meant that my mum stuck around and stayed the amazing, sparkly, wonderful person that she is.
So I figured, I’d better work off some of that debt. This will be our FIFTH year of Race for Life, which I think definitely deserves another dance break.
It’s been a crazy, amazing journey, featuring bucketloads of tears, a lot of seriously bad dancing, me in the papers dressed as Hit Girl, support from actual superhero Mark Millar, doughnuts with “fxxk cancer” printed on them and a dog in a t-shirt. We have raised a total of £3700 over the last four years. That’s pretty damn amazing.
But cancer still isn’t getting the message. It continues to steal away people that we love. There is so much more to be done. And I won’t stop until no mother ever has to sit down her children and tell them that she has cancer.
We’ll be having loads of fun here on the blog over the next month, keeping you updated on fundraising progress, super-strict training regimes and all the ridiculous things that I’ll do to get your money.
Seriously, I’ll do whatever. I’ll write you a poem, I’ll hand illustrate you a postcard, I’ll record a song for you and put it on Youtube, I’ll bake you a cake, I’ll draw you a (dreadful) portrait. Name it. Whatever it takes for you to click that lovely donate button, it’s yours.
Cancer messed with the wrong family. It’s going down.
Support us here! Or, if internet pages ain’t your thang, you can text your donation by texting “SOFI57 £5” to 70070.