In November 2024, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. A nasty, sneaky, fast growing type of breast cancer: stage 3, grade 3, locally invasive triple negative breast cancer for those who know about these things. My oncologist presented a treatment plan that included the kitchen sink, as well as the entire kitchen. It was long and brutal. I endured 6 months of chemotherapy, followed by a mastectomy of my right breast and the removal of as many lymph nodes in my armpit as the surgeons could find.

Unfortunately, I am one of the 1% for whom breast cancer treatment does not work. A whole body PET scan taken before my surgery highlighted a shadow in the middle of my right femur (thigh bone). The pathology of the tissue removed from my chest showed that the treatment had not killed the cancer cells – I had a partial response. Further scans confirmed that despite the treatment I had endured, the cancer had continued to grow at great pace. I had a tumour in my leg bone, and the surgery had not managed to remove all the tumour tissue in my chest with clear margins. I was given a further diagnosis of Stage 4, advanced triple negative breast cancer with bone metastases.

Four months later, my right leg broke. I spent 4 weeks in hospital having a nail inserted down through my femur to mend the break, followed by 2 weeks at the hospice, where I had radiotherapy on my chest and leg. The hospice staff were amazing. They got me up and walking (with crutches), worked to ensure I am on a drug regime to control any discomfort and pain, and helped me and my family to understand and accept my diagnosis.

Now, my life has diminished. I spend most of my time at home, reading (although my current treatment makes it hard to concentrate), writing (when possible) and watching films. My current treatment aims to slow the growth of the tumours that live in my legs, pelvis and spine. It is hard; the fatigue from the treatment is immense and on some days I find it impossible to get out of bed. Yet, I am not finished with thinking.

So, I am committing to using my blog to writing now. Writing about education. Writing down all the ideas, reflections, thoughts and ways of working that I promised myself I would write, when I had the time. Now, I have the time and I shall be writing, honestly and openly about my the 25 years I spent working in eduction. I have no fucks left to give – now is my time.