Sunday, 22 February 2015

A question for you

Hello reader!

I have a question for you....

What do you think is the meaning/purpose of life/your life?

My personal answer to this question is:

I really don't have a fucking clue. I keep coming back to this question and I can never come up with a satisfactory answer, (including "there isn't one" - which seems to me the most likely, but the least satisfying answer of them all).

I really want to know what you think. Please tell me! Text me, whatsapp me, comment on my facebook post with this blog link, tweet me, DM me, comment on this post here on blogger. But please! Tell me!

Thursday, 19 February 2015

Time out

I could also call this post  "Trying to take back control" or "I need a better routine for my mental health" or, maybe most appropriately, "Returning to (a new) normal? Part 2".

I was looking for a suitable image to accompany this post and did a Google image search of "hoarding". Wow. I'm never doing that again, it's the stuff of very scary nightmares. Very scary. But I found this one of book hoarding which does the job.

This photo represents the inside of my head right now. Far too much stuff in a big, disorganised, precarious mess. I need to transform the inside of my head from that, to this:

It's no small task, but it needs to be done.

Cancer doesn't just invade your body. Once you're aware of it and embark on the full-time (but hopefully fixed-term) job of Cancer Patient, it also ends up infiltrating every corner of your mind. Sometimes this is useful, sometimes it is helpful. There's a lot to learn, a lot of information to take in, and I've made it my mission to know and understand it all - knowledge is power, remember.

As I said in my last post, I'm now preparing to return to some sort of normality.

(Hopefully) the worst of cancer treatment (fingers crossed) is over now that I'm done with chemo and the Big Cancer Surgery (touch wood).*

(*I'm definitely not wanting to tempt fate because based on the past few years fate is not my friend. Laughing at superstition has done me no favours at all. Lesson learned. Never again will I walk under a ladder/step on a crack in the pavement/place my shoes on the table/lean my broom against the bed. Instead I will at all times be wearing a spider around my neck in a walnut shell and carrying a rabbit's foot in one pocket and an acorn in the other.)

In terms of what's called "active treatment" for cancer, all I have left is radiotherapy and I feel like at this point in my job as Cancer Patient, I'm at a bit of a crossroads. The initial fixed-term contract is almost up. What do I do next?

I'm worried about cancer coming back and spreading to other parts of my body. That's a genuine and legitimate fear. My friend Claire died less than a week ago after her breast cancer spread to her spinal fluid and brain. However, I don't want to spend all of my time feeling scared about recurrence and spread. But on the other hand I don't want to block it out to the extent I don't take proper care of my health, or maintain the right level of awareness about what's going on with my body.

I want to forget I ever had cancer. It's been stressful, and frightening and exhausting. But on the other hand, I don't want to forget I had cancer. It's an important part of me. It's changed my perspective in positive ways. It's made me appreciate things I didn't appreciate before. I want to keep hold of that perspective and appreciation.

I want to remove myself from Breast Cancer World and return to the world everyone else is living in. Yes, it can be mundane and frustrating at times, but I realise now how familiarity and routine can feel incredibly comforting and safe. On the other hand I want to help other young women with breast cancer. I want to share my experiences and insight in the same way others so kindly shared theirs with me when I really needed it. I want to offer support, and reassurance, and hope. I want to make a difference.

I was discussing this at counselling last night. I want it to be part of my life, but I don't want it to be part of my life. What do I do? My counsellor reminded me that once you know something, you can't un-know it. So basically all of this is about transition and balance. And for that I need some time and space to work through what's in my head. Tackle the dark corners. Clear out the crap. Bring the good stuff to the front.

Basically, I'm about to be really selfish.

Some changes will happen naturally. Once I'm back to working full time (along with other daily routines - running, walking the dog, making the dinner, doing the housework, watching Sex and the City and drinking cosmopolitans with Emily etc), there'll be limited time in my days for breast cancer. But I also need to make some intentional changes.

I'm taking a break from the online community of younger women with breast cancer that I'm a member of. It's a wonderful, wonderful group, and I will be back after some space. But for now I'm making a conscious decision to not be logging on throughout the day and evening, every single day. I'll also be muting various accounts I follow on Twitter, just for a little while. Less cancer and genetics and more @africam and @badass_w.

I'm also going to limit myself to when and how I think and talk about cancer. I'm going to work on retraining my monkey-mind in order to not let thoughts about cancer run through my consciousness on a continuous loop all day long. I'll have set times to talk about cancer, and to think and write about cancer, and I'll do this with purpose. The rest of my time will be for other things.

Hopefully it helps.

A couple of post scripts...

Dammit! I just looked and someone has already written "Breast Cancer for Dummies".

On Google images I also added "dog" to my search. It's always a nice thing to do. Here's a few just for you. (The best book shop dog in the world is, of course, the one at Tin Drum Books in Leicester, but these are some very wonderful dogs too.)


Tuesday, 17 February 2015

Returning to (a new) normal?

Early last August, shortly after diagnosis but before treatment had started, I took this photo of myself.
I'd wanted a new profile picture for my Twitter and Facebook because all the photos I had of myself were of me grinning. I wasn't in that mood. I wanted a non-grinny photo. I didn't know it when I took it, but it's turned in to a very important photo to me. It's the photo which marks the start of my cancer whirlwind. Also, I often look at this photo and admire my eyebrows, eyelashes and hair. (Sad, I know!)
In October, I wrote what turned in to a very cheesy letter to my body. At that point I was only half-way through chemo. I knew the worst was yet to come and I was right. Since then my body has taken much more of a hammering through chemo and surgery.
The visible damage

This is me immediately after surgery. I guess this is me at my worst (physically, anyway.)
Thanks to chemo I ended up losing most of my hair. In the end my eyebrows and eyelashes disappeared entirely too, along with the rest of the hair on my body.
My fingernails went thin, and a combination of red, yellow and white. The worst of it has almost grown out now although they're still not good....
I lost both my little toenails (twice so far) and my other toenails have suffered too, especially the big ones... 
The veins in my arms were very seriously damaged by chemo. I'm not sure if they'll ever recover. My "bad" arm is my left arm. Held straight it almost looks normal...
But if I twist it, this happens.....
My "good" arm is not so good either. It doesn't have the track marks, but my veins still collapsed four times during surgery. And five weeks after surgery, part of one has randomly decided to come up to the surface looking rather green and unhappy...

I have cording (scar tissue) going down my left arm. It's painful and restricts my movement...
I have a scar under my arm from my lymph node clearance and that whole area is still numb...

And a scar on my back as a result of the latissimus dorsi flap reconstruction part of my surgery...

(While I'm happy to show any of my friends who want to see, I'm not sticking a topless photo of me on the internet! So my main surgery scar will have to remain a mystery to most of you.)

The less visible damage

I get hot flushes throughout the day and night as a result of my estrogen levels plummeting - chemo fried my ovaries. (I'm not complaining though because my cancer was feeding off estrogen - so good riddance).

I believe my immune system will be a bit low for a while. But I plan to combat that with things like broccoli.

And then of course, there's all the internal rearrangements of muscle, blood vessels etc and the damage to nerves and tendons which need to heal.


Anyway... I've spent much of the last 5 weeks since surgery sleeping. I never knew it was possible for one person to sleep so much. But people keep telling me that's because my body needs the rest to heal - from both chemo and surgery. And I'm starting to feel like my body really is healing.

My hair is growing back, quite quickly, and nice and thick. I'll get a proper pixie cut soon, for when I'm able to start running, but most of the time I think I'll keep wearing my wig until I have a bob again! Or at least  until I can colour it, which is technically not for another four months. (I have so many greys!)

My eyebrows and eyelashes have been growing like mad the last few weeks. I reckon a couple more weeks and they'll be back to normal. (Same goes for the rest of the hair on my body. Never mind...!)

My nails are growing, which means the skanky bits are growing out.

My scars are healing well, and I'm quickly becoming stronger and more mobile after surgery. My surgeon says it will take 4-5 months to get back to normal strength and mobility, but I can feel everything improving gradually so I'm happy. And the stretching exercises I'm doing seem to be helping with the cording - I can now lift my arm up high enough to get a t-shirt on!

The hot flushes are less frequent and less intense, and the horrible, nasty chills seem to have almost entirely stopped.

Whether my veins will ever recover I've no idea, but I don't think anyone will be attacking them with a needle or cannula for a little while now so I'm not concerned.

Return to normal?

I'm now preparing to return to work. For me, being able to return to work in the office, to return to the routine of Monday-to-Friday-Nine-to-Five, represents the beginning of my return journey to normality. There'll be some limitations at first, probably some strange requests from me ("Please can I have a window, and a radiator, and a desk fan, and a heater?" and "Is it ok for me to bring in a pillow, v pillow, chillow pillow and heart cushion?") and some strange behaviour (frantically adding and removing layers of clothing to deal with hot flushes, spending too much time in the toilets throughout the day while I rub cream into my radiated skin and healing balm in to my scars etc).

But I guess this is a part of what people mean when they say when you get back to normal after cancer, it will be a "new normal".


Saturday, 14 February 2015


I made a lovely friend called Claire through the Younger Breast Cancer Network (YBCN). Yesterday, less than a year after being diagnosed with breast cancer, she passed away.

No words are enough, but Claire's death is heartbreaking, devastating, and just plain unfair. My thoughts are with all of Claire's family and friends, especially her mum, brother, and boyfriend Alex who she loved with all her heart.

Claire had only just turned 30 and was bright and beautiful, energetic and determined, kind and supportive, and lots and lots of fun.

I've only known Claire a short time and because of our various cancer treatments getting in the way only met with her in person once, but we were in touch online a lot, and she made a big difference in my life. These are three of the things I will always remember about Claire.
Claire wasn't afraid to speak up
Claire spoke up for what was right and this included her own healthcare and treatment. A lot of us, myself included, need to be more like Claire in this way, especially when it comes to our health. Claire learned about her breast cancer, learned about her treatment, and when needed (and there were times it was needed) kicked up a fuss to get a second opinion or take a different course of action. We should all do the same.

Claire loved life and lived it
I think the first time I had a conversation with Claire online in the YBCN forum was shortly after I had been diagnosed with cancer (she'd been diagnosed a few months before me). I was preparing for chemo and 18 weeks of being confined to my sofa and bed. Up pops Claire, part way through chemo, telling me how she was nursing a raging hangover having been out til 4am. She'd come home with a matted and wet wig and a bruised bum at the end of the night from falling over (her words: "Clearly chemo has not made me more sensible!"). Throughout chemo, whenever she was well, Claire had fun and lived life to the full. I was so impressed when she did an Iron Run last October having only just finished chemo.
Claire was also one of the very, very first YBCN members to do #christmaschemobrow - which quickly went viral on the internet in December, raising awareness of YBCN!
Claire was kind, supportive, and had a heart of gold
The YBCN is a very active online community, there are over 1000 members in the main group - all young women under the age of 45 with a breast cancer diagnosis. Claire was an especially kind and supportive member of the group. Having a conversation with a group of my YBCN friends I realised Claire had taken the time to be in touch with all of us in recent weeks and months, about the things that were going on in our lives and with our treatment. Just a few weeks ago I was in hospital for surgery while Claire was in hospital suffering with what we now know were the symptoms of cancer spreading to her spinal fluid and brain. Despite this Claire was messaging me, wishing me well in my recovery, giving me advice about radiotherapy following my genetic test, congratulating me on my post-surgery pathology results (and competing with me through selfies of who looked the most ridiculous in our various hospital gear!)

It's no surprise that last night when YBCN members found out that Claire had passed away, that the forum was absolutely filled with messages of love from women across the country, who were raising glasses and lighting candles in memory.

Final words from Claire

Claire's final blog post was last Sunday. Whether you knew Claire or not, I would encourage you to read it. Claire's perspective is incredible moving and inspiring and I particularly wanted to share these words:

"If you can take one thing from me, I would like you to try to love those around you, to be good to other people, because it will come back to you."

Rest peacefully Claire, beautiful girl. xxx


PS: Claire's Adrenaline Rush
A couple of weeks ago, with her vision failing, meaning she couldn't run outdoors, Claire bought a treadmill so that she could continue to train for the Adrenaline Rush run in May. She wanted to do this to raise money for Macmillan Cancer Support. Her £2000 target has already been smashed (it's at £3,835 at the moment). If you'd like to donate, you can do so here:

Thursday, 12 February 2015

Dents and dimples

It's simple: the earlier breast cancer is detected the more chance there is of getting rid of it and being able to go on to live a full and healthy life. That's why it's important to be aware of all the signs: it's not just about checking for lumps. I've written previously about nipples. (If you haven't read that post, please read it after you've read this.) This post is about dents and dimples.

Here is a really helpful summary of breast cancer symptoms to look out for taken from the Breakthrough Breast Cancer website.

  • Can you feel a lump? Either in the breast, upper chest or armpits.
  • Is there a lumpy area? Or unusual thickening of the breast tissue that doesn’t go away?
  • Is there any unusual pain? Either in part of the breast or the armpit.


  • Any change in size or shape? For example, one breast might become larger or lower than the other.
  • Any change in skin texture? Such as puckering or dimpling of the skin of the breast.
  • Any change in colour? For example the breast may look red or inflamed.
  • What about the appearance or direction of the nipple? For example, one might become inverted (turned in) when it normally points out.
  • Any unusual discharge? One or both nipples might have a discharge.
  • Any rash or crusting? Of the nipple or surrounding area.


  • Is anything unusual? If so, get it checked out by your doctor as soon as possible.

The last point is a really important one. Is anything unusual? If so, get it checked. Guidance about breast cancer signs and symptoms is always inevitably broad - it's trying to demonstrate that there is a wide range of symptoms that are relevant - not just lumps. This kind of guidance is not giving you an exact list of things to look for and excluding everything else. It is very important to know your own body and get any changes checked out as soon as you notice them.

To illustrate this, one of my friends, another young woman with breast cancer, wants to share the story of the first sign of her breast cancer. Using the categories above, it would sort of fit under "skin texture" but as you'll see, it was more than dimpling or puckering...

"About two weeks before I accidentally found my lump in the shower, I had noticed a line. It ran from directly under the centre of my nipple then in a kind of hooked shape up to my armpit. I'd noticed it but thought that it was caused by my bra.

The day I found my lump it came as a bolt out of the blue. I was having a shower and I thank the soapy suds for finding the lump. (I would urge every woman to have a feel in soapy suds as you can feel so much more.) 

I went to the doctor the very next day. She was kind and reassuring and said it's probably just a fibroadenoma (a non-cancerous condition) but then she spotted the line and asked about it. She made me move in different ways. Some positions made it worse, but it was always there. The tone of the room changed and she referred me for an urgent ultrasound scan. My appointment came through for two weeks later. I had an ultrasound and biopsy.

Between the GP appointment and the ultrasound scan I also developed a thrombosed vein (which was also picked up on ultrasound). It ran from the lump (upper left quadrant of my left breast) and across the top of my nipple. I now know this was my tumour cutting off the blood supply and creating its own, the little fucker! The thrombosed vein felt like a hard line under the skin. It was about 1.5 - 2 inches long and was quite painful. The lump itself felt pear shaped and lumpy - it wasn't round or pea shaped or smooth. I was diagnosed around ten days later with a 17mm invasive ductal carcinoma (tumour). It was that tumour that had made the skin pull inwards in that big line."

WOMEN! Please, get to know your own body, and if you notice any changes, go to your GP. It's a scary thing to think about and a scary thing to do, but if you have breast cancer, the sooner it is diagnosed the better.


Sunday, 8 February 2015

Being inflated and other post-surgery adventures

Oh my goodness, tomorrow it will be four weeks since I had surgery. How time flies when you're having.... lots of drugs and hospital appointments. Considering I haven't been able to do much, some exciting things have happened in the last few weeks. Here are a selection of the highlights.

I've had a bath
Something I'm sure my friends are really grateful for. It was three weeks and a day after my surgery when I could finally completely remove all dressings and have a proper bath/ shower. I went ahead and lit some candles and it was wonderful! I was clean! (And my fears about the skin graft detaching and ending up floating around in the bath were thankfully not realised.) The other exciting part of this was that I could remove all dressings, wash off all the iodine/blood/tape glue etc and see properly for the first time what I look like post surgery. Turns out I look pretty much the same as I did before, except with a circle of skin where there should be a nipple, a scar under my arm, and a scar on my back. Nice work Mr Krupa!

I've been drained
I had a seroma on my back which is basically a pocket of fluid that built up in the space where muscle was taken away. It wasn't really bothering me but there was quite a lot there so my surgeon wanted to drain it. A medical student was brought in to watch the show so I thought it might be a particularly dramatic or disgusting experience, but actually it was straightforward. From what I could tell he stuck an empty needle/syringe into my back and sucked the fluid out. It didn't hurt and it only took a few minutes. Job done. (Although I grew another one within about two days. Oh well.)

I've been inflated
So you know how along with the cancer I had to have all the breast tissue removed to stop it trying to kill me again in the future? That was replaced with muscle from my back and an "expander implant". An expander implant is one that's put in empty, and then is filled in bit by bit over several months with saline. This enables your skin to stretch and grow gradually. Then later on it gets replaced with a permanent implant.
Well, at my last hospital appointment with my surgeon I got the implant filled up for the first time. Once again a medical student was brought in to watch the show, and as the draining experience had been such a non event I wasn't at all worried. He said it might be a bit painful and uncomfortable and I responded along the lines of "Mr Krupa! Relax! It's me! I've done chemo! I can handle anything! As long as you're not going to attempt to put a cannula in any of my veins I'll be fine!" I lay back on the bed, big smile, chatting away, and then I saw him pick up the biggest, longest, most threatening needle I have ever seen in my life. 

Here's an illustration, to scale, so you can see what I mean:

FUCK SAKE! It's only because I think so much of him and want to be his best patient that I didn't leap up, punch him in the face and run out of the hospital half naked screaming my head off. Somehow I held it together and lay there looking up at the ceiling while he stabbed me like [insert here your own example from a horror film where someone gets stabbed with a frighteningly big needle. I'm unable to insert an example myself because I do not watch horror films. Ever. I still have occasional nightmares about Jumanji. Years ago I tried to get over it by watching the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I got as far as the meat hook scene before I had a full mental breakdown. Forget my dodgy PALB2 gene, I think it might have been that experience that gave me cancer. Anyway.... horror films do not suit my disposition so you'll have to use your own imagination for this.]

I got stabbed through the skin graft which is currently (might always be) numb, so it didn't hurt going in, but I could feel it inside and it made me feel sick for about 8 hours afterwards. I've not told Mr Krupa this because I don't want to ruin my reputation as Best Patient, but FUCKING HELL. Next time I'm in to get my implant pumped up I'm taking a bottle of vodka with me to swig in the waiting room before I go through to the torture chamber.

In case you're interested, I'm now 100ml bigger than I was before. Apparently though I can't attribute any of my weight gain to this.

I'm having radiotherapy
There was a question mark over this because I had such big massive clear margins around my cancer when it was removed in surgery, and because I only had two lymph nodes affected. But they have decided I should have radiotherapy, and I'm glad. I want the cancer and the place where the cancer was blasted in every possible way. There are risks associated with radiotherapy; it could damage my heart and damage my lung. There's also a significant risk of damage to the very neat surgery Mr Krupa spent eight hours on, especially the skin graft. I'm now under orders to bathe myself in moisturiser at every possible opportunity in the run up to radiotherapy starting to try and reduce the risk of this as much as possible. But ultimately, while I don't want the surgery messed up, and while I don't want my heart or lung damaged, my biggest concern is the cancer. That's my enemy number one. So I'm now waiting for my appointment with Mr Radiotherapy (forgot his real name) to find out what happens next with that.

My blood clots like a normal person's
My cancer was the kind that gobbles up estrogen as fuel to grow. There's a brilliant drug called Tamoxifen which prevents cancer cells from feeding off estrogen in your body and someone with my kind of breast cancer is usually given Tamoxifen for 5-10 years after treatment, to reduce risk of cancer recurrence. There was a concern though because it increases your risk of blood clot, and as well as cancer, there's a history of DVT and pulmonary embolism in my family. So I was referred to get my blood checked out by a very nice doctor called Dr Mensah, to see whether I appear to have any hereditary predisposition for blood clots. The answer is: No! My blood is fine. The blood clots in my family all appear to be cancer treatment related. I should be fine to have Tamoxifen. Yey! As well as getting this good news, the appointment with Dr Mensah was great fun. We talked about blood, and cancer, and genetics, and he asked me if I was a scientist too. I wanted to lie and say yes but my friend Emily was with me so I told the truth - that I'm a control freak who has to know what's going on and so I've just self taught myself stuff via the internet. Anyhoo, it is SO NICE to be coming out of hospital appointments with good news, and feeling happy.

I have cording
Waaaaaaah! In surgery I had lymph nodes removed from under my arm (technical name: axillary lymph node dissection). A common issue after this surgery is "cording" - it's a bit confusing because from what I've read even the experts are a bit unsure about why and how, but basically scar tissue forms like cords running from your armpit and down your arm. I think I have at least two. They don't bother me until I try and lift or stretch my arm and then I can't, and it hurts. A week after surgery I managed to get my No More Page 3 t-shirt on. No idea how, there's no way I could do that now. It's button up clothes only for me at the moment! So I am now also on a mission with massage and stretches to try and get rid of the cording. By get rid, I mean snap them. Apparently it's like an elastic band being stretched to it's limit then snapping. Boke. I need this sorted before radiotherapy starts because I need to be able to lie with my arm stretched out for that.

I'm going back on the painkillers
At my last appointment Mr Krupa was asking about pain, and I told him what pains I had and also how I was spending half the day sleeping still. Why am I so tired? Look at my scars, I've healed really quickly. He asked if I was still taking painkillers and I told him I'd stopped taking them about ten days ago. He raised his eyebrows at me and asked how long ago I had surgery. Three and a half weeks ago. No need to relay the whole discussion here but the upshot is I am back on the painkillers, and will be napping in between moiturising, massaging and stretching for a little while longer. Young people need to learn to be more patient.

But enough of all that.... I saved the best for last. Now for the really good news.

I have eyebrows!
Yep! I woke up one morning and there they were! Around 300 eyebrow hairs made their appearance all in one go. They need to grow a bit more before I can stop colouring them in but I think it'll only be another week or two at the rate they're going. No more being out in public wondering if I still have two eyebrows on my face. Yey!

Right! Must go now - need to pop some pills, stretch my scar tissue, moisturise my skin graft and have a nap before popping another load of pills, stretching my scar tissue some more, and moisturising my skin graft again. TTFN!

Wednesday, 4 February 2015

Do one thing for World Cancer Day, 4th February 2015

Friends, colleagues, random strangers on the internet....!

Today, 4th February, is World Cancer Day. I think it would be lovely if everyone who reads this does one thing support it. These are a few suggestions from me....

Spread the word about nipples!
Share the link to my blog post about nipples! My breast cancer was diagnosed not because I felt a lump, but because I had a slightly wonky nipple. Most people are aware that breast lumps can be a sign of breast cancer, but not everyone knows there are other signs like wonky nipples too. This is the link - you could share it on Facebook, or Twitter, or email it round. 

Call or text someone you know with cancer/who has had cancer
It can make you feel so happy when people get in touch. And it can make you feel so sad when people don't. If you know someone with cancer or who has recently had cancer, drop them a line. If you don't know what to say, don't worry. You'd be amazed how much it means just to get messages that say something like "Hi, was thinking of you, hope you're well?"

Support an amazing little charity called Coping with Cancer
If you live in Leicestershire, you could consider making a small donation to the wonderful local charity Coping with Cancer. You can do this by texting CWCA12 followed by the amount you would like to donate (£1, £2, £3, £4, £5 or £10) to 70070. For example, to donate £3 text CWCA12 £3 to 70070.
If you live elsewhere you could find out about a cancer charity that is local to you and donate to them. Or donate to one of the bigger cancer charities, obviously.

Tell people about the Younger Breast Cancer Network (UK)
This is a support group for women in the UK under the age of 45 who have been diagnosed with breast cancer. The Facebook page is here: - share the link! Someone you know might know a young woman with breast cancer who would benefit from knowing about and joining the group. Spread the word!

(This is Diane, a friend I met through YBCN, who blogs at A Little Earthquake)

Make a commitment to raise some money for cancer research or support
Is it a while since you did a sponsored something? Maybe you could do something this year and raise some money for a cancer research or support charity. Make that commitment today - sign up for an event, set up your fundraising page and share the link with your friends and family.

Write to your MP to demand a fair price for life-extending breast cancer drugs
Drugs exist that mean women with secondary breast cancer can live longer (hopefully long enough for more and better treatments to be trialled and become available). Women like my friends Rosie and Jojo. Unfortunately these drugs aren’t available to everyone who needs them because they’re too expensive for the NHS. Breakthrough Breast Cancer are calling for fairer access to these drugs. The UK Government can help fix the problem by demanding a fair price from pharmaceutical companies and creating a system of access and approval that will ensure cancer patients get the drugs they need at prices the NHS can afford.
You can find out how to write to your MP about this on the Breakthrough Breast Cancer website here:

(This is my friend Jojo who has secondary breast cancer and blogs at The Malignant Ginger)

Those are my suggestions! You might have other ideas. But please do something on World Cancer Day 2015. Together #WeWillUnite and beat cancer.