Wednesday, 23 October 2013

Hair Today Gone Tomorrow !

I was diagnosed with breast cancer about two and a half months ago.
    I have had the operation to remove the tumour, I am nearly halfway through chemotherapy and yet still it does not feel real.
    I am and always have been incredibly healthy. When I was six I had my tonsils out and thirty years later I had a skiing accident and that's about as bad as it has ever got.
    The words "rude health" have often been used to describe me, other words have been used too but I'm not prepared to share them just yet!

It happened very quickly. One moment I was all singing and dancing and looking forward to a significant birthday and then suddenly, almost without warning, I was sitting on a bed naked from the waist up with my arms locked around the neck of a gorgeous young oncologist called Nicolas.
    I want you to know that I had been deliberately placed int that position, I am not in the habit of throwing myself willy nilly at young doctors no matter how bloody good looking.

The lovely Nicolas examined my left tit with a clinical and detailed precision that was vaguely reminiscent of an unsavoury episode with a bloke called Dave at a rugby cub disco in the early eighties. God I thought I'd got over that.
    Doctor Nicolas finally disentangled my arms arms and his bright blue eyes, filled with kindness and  compassion, gazed into my terrified brown ones. I felt like a deer who, with an uncanny sixth sense turns his head to look directly into the face of the hunter about to pull the trigger.
    Now I have never actually been hunting and far from being the hunter Nicolas was going to save my life, but you get the general idea.

As our eyes locked we shared the briefest of moments, but that was all it took.
     I knew that I had cancer and he knew that I knew. He smiled gently and squeezing my shoulders whispered the words "bon courage" - I live in France, he wasn't being pretentious.

I got dressed slowly and with exaggerated politeness thanked them all - did I forget to mention that there were four consultants altogether in the room with me?

I returned to the waiting room where my husband was pretending to read a magazine.
    One look at my face told him that a very large glass of something very alcoholic was needed as fast as possible for both of us.


  1. Moving post, and 'bon courage' is a good sentiment wherever you are - sending you plenty of good wishes from the Middle East x

  2. You have moved me to tears with this courageous account... France has a wonderful health care track record as I am sure you already know... Wish you bon courage also and all best wishes from the north of France...

  3. Your humour and positive attitude have always been present Jane for all the years I have known you, amazing woman that you are! Am so liking the pink hair by the way :) Please let's meet up soon, I miss you xx

  4. Positivity is sometimes all we have to cling onto in challenging times. Amazing people emerge from the toughest situations xx Many good wishes to you xx :)

  5. You made me laugh, you made me cry.
    Chin up and soldier on, lovely girl.

  6. Wow Janie! I could hear your voice speaking this as I read it, you have moved me to tears you brave lovely courageous lady, so proud of you and your positive attitude, that will see you through this xxx

  7. I was going to write "Wow, Janie!" but caroblackwell beat me to it! Gosh, thinking of you, hope all goes well - as you say, you are in 'rude' health and a realistic (don't get toooooo over-positive) attitude will be your best ally as will be Mickey and the rest of us!! XXX Claire

  8. amazing and one very courageous lady, your positive attitude will get you through this and your pink her is fabulous..bon courage and wishing you all the best xx