Eleven years ago, I was merrily hurtling my way through my chaotic thirty-something life in the big smoke (i.e. London) when cancer decided to come and stay, without an invitation. It was a shock to be diagnosed, a huge, annoying, devastating shock but I managed to get through it, told it to pack its bags and waved the nasty disease goodbye before it had a chance to reconsider. Now it's back and I'm back in Cancerland trying to come to terms with a stage 4 diagnosis while at the same time looking after an increasingly curious
toddler preschooler. Only now I have no hair and need a wig. But not just any old wig will do - I need something that resembled my last hairstyle, which was an afro. Thought it would be easy, but not so. So I'm writing about my search for this evasive item, but as life is not so one-dimensional, this blog is also about random thoughts, fears, musings and observations that I've had since being diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer.