In the week after my diagnosis, Tim walked past the car while Harry was at baseball training and slipped a scrunched-up piece of paper through the window. Weird way to give me the shopping list, I thought. “Read this only when you get home,” he said as he walked away. Curiosity tugged at me the whole drive back, but I honoured his request. When I was finally alone, I sat on the edge of our bed and unfolded the crumpled note. The paper was alive with thought - words scrawled,

So where do I start? I suppose I should just start with the news that will change everything for me… I have breast cancer. There. Not exactly the sort of sentence you expect to hear about yourself at 38 - especially sitting in a small consultation room under fluorescent lights, with a box of tissues that suddenly felt perfectly placed. How did I get here? On Monday, 23 February, I went for imaging to check a new lump. I say new because I have fibrocystic breasts - basically