World Cancer Day 2025

Marching Onwards

"It doesn't matter what you say about somebody once they're gone. What matters is how you treat them when they're still here." - David Silver, Beverly Hills 90210 On this day in March 2024 I came home from a month-long hospital stay where I had been treated for newly-diagnosed metastatic breast cancer. That month was also the twelve-year anniversary of my original cancer diagnosis. Two weeks later, following a failed attempt at targeted therapy, I was discharged from oncology care and told "I'm sorry but there is nothing more we can do". I was signed over to a team of palliative care doctors and given weeks to two months to live. That was two years ago. I'm sure you, dearest of readers, have guessed the moral of the story: Don't believe everything you are told when it comes to your health. Take it at face value and appreciate that it was based on the best available information at the time. But remember that you are in the driver's sea...

Keeping Abreast of Ellen: The One with the Sequel

To quote Lady Whistledown, and because I feel strongly that this update (though far from gossip), is worthy of your time and readership, I will lead with: Dear Gentle Reader, Sequels are generally overrated. Mine is no exception. I have been toiling for months over how best and when to communicate this difficult news to you. I settled on today as I am now seven months in, have dusted off my figurative pen, and truly have cause to give thanks. For those who need me to cut to the chase, here goes: Cancer has come knocking again. In fact it didn't knock, it let itself in through an open window and has taken up residence. Although it's contained to a few adjoining rooms (abdominal lymph nodes, ribs and pelvis), uninvited guests can travel in packs, so my awesome medical team and I are keeping a watchful eye for new squatters. Those interested in how this story unfolds can follow my new Facebook Page , Keeping Abreast of Ellen, where I'll soon post updates on key milestones...

FIVE

Wishes do come true. But only if you make them happen. It was late evening on March 21, 2012. I was standing on my front porch, surrounded by the chill night air, and listening to the melting creek bed whispering notes of spring. I had just left the hospital and my MRI and there was nothing to do now but wait, and live in this moment. I stared up at our second storey windows. Inside, my children slept soundly, oblivious to the turmoil in their mother's mind. I turned my head to the baby's window. She stirred. There would be no nursing tonight, the MRI's contrast agent coursing through me had nixed that. At 15 days old, she was already getting used to my not being around. I wondered if this was to become a pattern. Would I be there to hear her first words, to see her first steps, and to watch her enter kindergarten? I was angry and determined to do away with most, if not all of these unknowns. I didn't know how I would do it, but I was going to give it my all. ...

Keeping Abreast of Ellen

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