Clart About Cancer Care

19/09/2026

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE SIGN THIS PETITION DEMANDING A PUBLIC INQUIRY INTO CDDFT BREAST CANCER TREATMENT.

https://www.change.org/p/demand-a-public-inquiry-into-cddft-breast-cancer-treatment?utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=mobileNativeShare&utm_campaign=share_petition&recruited_by_id=6c6bfdf0-f470-11e6-9aff-b36ed2a5704e&recruiter=682830998&share_id=hWY2m2SRQf&fbclid=IwdGRjcAUagdhjbGNrBRqBy3Bkb2YFZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAc3J0YwZhcHBfaWQMMzUwNjg1NTMxNzI4AAEea1y2gmSkL4OBveKxTbbVpU_qw9SD--QKCiCM-0A_-0qc6x8FIqCEK4NORu0_aem_8xyg8qzHYVj3xhqmiE-g_A

Demand a public inquiry into CDDFT breast cancer treatment

01/09/2026

🦋 September is Thyroid Cancer Awareness Month 🦋

September is an important month for raising awareness of thyroid cancer, and this year it feels particularly personal for me.

I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer in July — and the thing that has really stayed with me is that I had zero signs or symptoms.
My thyroid cancer was found completely incidentally, when I was having scans as part of my investigations for breast cancer. I had no idea there was anything wrong with my thyroid, and without those scans, I may never have known it was there.

That’s why awareness is so important.
Some signs and symptoms of thyroid cancer can include:
🔹 A lump or swelling in the neck
🔹 A lump that feels hard or is growing
🔹 Persistent hoarseness or changes to your voice
🔹 Difficulty swallowing
🔹 Difficulty breathing
🔹 Persistent pain in the neck or throat
🔹 Swollen lymph nodes in the neck
🔹 A persistent cough that isn’t caused by a cold or other obvious reason
But sometimes there are no symptoms at all, as I have personally found out.

I’m sharing my experience because if it encourages even one person to be aware of the signs, speak to their GP about something unusual, or simply understand that cancer doesn’t always announce itself with obvious symptoms, then it’s worth sharing.

Being diagnosed with one cancer is difficult enough, but finding out I also had thyroid cancer was something I never expected. I’m still processing it all, but if sharing my story can help raise awareness, then I’m more than happy to do so.

Please share this post and help spread awareness this September.

Know your neck. Know the signs. And remember that sometimes, there may be no signs at all. 🦋

19/08/2026

I almost didn't take this picture.

Not because I wasn't happy in that moment.

I was.

But because cancer has changed the way I see myself.

I looked at the photograph and noticed the things I never used to think twice about.

The scars.

The missing breast now reconstructed.

The hair that is only just beginning to grow back.

The shape of my body now compared to the body I had before all of this.

And for a split second, I wanted to put my phone away.

I wanted to tell myself I would take another picture when my hair had grown properly.

When my scars had faded.

When I felt more like the woman I used to be.

But then I thought about how much time I have already spent wishing my body looked different.

Wishing I could have my old body back.

Wishing I could erase the surgery, the treatment, the fear and everything that came with it.

And I realised something.

I don't want to spend whatever time I have being ashamed of the body that fought so hard to keep me here.

This body got me through cancer.

These scars are from the days I had to be brave when I didn't feel brave at all.

The missing breast is a reminder of a decision I never imagined I would have to make.

My hair growing back is proof that I made it through the treatment that took it away.

None of this is how I imagined my body would look.

But it is my body.

And it is still here.

There are parts of this journey that I don't think I'll ever be able to explain properly to someone who hasn't lived it.

The strange grief of looking at your own body and mourning someone you used to be.

The sadness of seeing photographs from before and knowing you can never quite go back to her.

The fear that can sit quietly underneath even the happiest moments.

And then there are days like this.

Days where I'm simply living.

Laughing.

Making memories.

Being with the people I love.

And I don't want cancer to convince me that those moments don't count because I don't look like I used to.

So I'm keeping this photograph.

Not because I love every part of what I see.

I'm keeping it because this is me.

This is what surviving looks like on me.

And maybe one day, when I'm much further away from this chapter, I'll look back at this picture and see something different.

Maybe I won't see the scar first.

Maybe I won't notice what's missing.

Maybe I won't think about the hair that hadn't quite grown back yet.

Maybe I'll simply see a woman who had been through something she never should have had to go through — and who still found reasons to smile.

I don't want my memories to only exist in photographs taken before cancer.

I want proof of this life too.

Proof that I didn't stop living because my body changed.

Proof that I still laughed.

Still loved.

Still made plans.

Still had ordinary days that were actually extraordinary because I was here to experience them.

Cancer took parts of me.

It changed parts of me.

But it didn't take me.

So I'm going to keep the photographs.

The scars can be in them.

The missing breast can be part of them.

The short, growing-back hair can be part of them.

Because hiding those things doesn't change what happened.

And I refuse to hide from my own life just because my body tells a different story now.

This is my body after cancer.

Not the body I would have chosen.

But the body that carried me through.

And honestly?

I'm beginning to feel pretty proud of her.

19/08/2026

Hehe 🙈🙉🙊

16/08/2026

Life during and after cancer isn’t simply about getting “back to normal.”

There is a new normal — one that can take time to understand, accept and adjust to.

Healing isn’t always visible, and moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting what you’ve been through. Be patient with yourself. Give yourself grace. Celebrate the small steps.

You’re allowed to take your time finding your new normal.

03/08/2026

Chemo curls… the surprise nobody tells you about.

After losing your hair during treatment, you wait and wonder what will grow back.

Then one day, the mirror looks back with curls you never had before.

For some, they're temporary. For others, they're here to stay. They're often called chemo curls—a little reminder of what your body has been through and just how incredibly resilient it is.

They may not be the hair you remember, but every new strand marks another step in your recovery and a chapter you never thought you'd have to write.

Whether you love your chemo curls, are still getting used to them, or are patiently waiting for your hair to change again, they're part of your story—a story of getting through one day at a time.

Here's to new growth, and the quiet strength that keeps going, even on the hardest days.

19/07/2026

When was the last time you checked your b***s? No, really... when was the last time?

For many people, the answer is "I can't remember" or "I've never really checked."

Knowing what's normal for your breasts could help you spot changes early. Most breast changes aren't cancer, but it's always worth getting anything unusual checked by your GP.

💗When checking your breasts, look and feel for:
• A new lump or thickening in the breast or underarm.
• A change in the size or shape of one or both breasts.
• Changes to the skin, such as dimpling, puckering, redness, or an orange peel appearance.
• A ni**le that has become pulled in (inverted) if it wasn't before.
• A rash or crusting around the ni**le.
• Unusual ni**le discharge, especially if it's bloody.
• Persistent pain in one area of the breast or armpit that doesn't go away.
• Swelling in your armpit or around your collarbone.

There isn't one "right" way to check your breasts.

The most important thing is to get to know what's normal for you by checking regularly—whether that's in the shower, while getting dressed, or before bed.

If you notice anything that isn't normal for you, don't panic—but don't ignore it either. Make an appointment with your GP as soon as possible.

Take two minutes today. Check your b***s. It could make all the difference. It could save your life.

Please share this post to remind the people you care about to do the same. Early detection saves lives.

14/07/2026

Who knew waiting for results could be one of the hardest parts?

This time last year, I went to my GP after noticing a dent in my breast. I had no idea how much my life was about to change.
Fast forward a year, and tomorrow I'll be sitting in another clinic, waiting to hear the pathology results from my recent thyroid surgery.

I won't lie... I'm scared.

Scared of hearing those words again. Scared of what the results might mean. Scared of having to face more treatment, more uncertainty, and more waiting.

It feels like every time I manage to pick myself back up, something comes along and knocks me back down again...and I am worn out.

One thing I've learned over the past year is that waiting is its own kind of battle.

People often focus on appointments, surgery and treatment, but the waiting... the waiting can be unbearable. Your mind fills in the blanks, every ache suddenly means something, and the "what ifs" become so loud.

If you're in that place right now, here are a few things that I try...can't say they always help but I try...
💙 Take it one moment at a time. You don't have to have all the answers today.
💙 Keep your routine where you can—it gives your mind something else to focus on.
💙 Talk to someone you trust. Saying your fears out loud can make them feel a little less heavy.
💙 Let yourself feel whatever comes up. There is no right or wrong way to wait.
💙 Be gentle with yourself. You're carrying a lot, even if nobody else can see it.
💙 And remember, whatever tomorrow brings, you will deal with it one step at a time. You don't have to face it all at once.

Tonight, I'll probably still worry. That's normal. But I'm also reminding myself that I've got through every difficult day so far, even the ones I never thought I would.

If you're waiting for results too, I'm holding you in my thoughts. I know how incredibly hard this part is.

Please be kind to yourself.

11/07/2026

"It's just a free tit job."

Those were the words spoken to me by a mental health professional.

I know they may have been intended as humour. I know they may not have meant to cause harm.

But they did.

Let's be absolutely clear...
Breast cancer is not a "free breast enhancement."

There is nothing free about losing part or all of your breast. There is nothing glamorous about surgery, drains, scars, pain, infections, limited movement, or living with the fear that cancer could return.
Reconstruction isn't a cosmetic procedure handed out as a bonus. It's a complex series of operations that many people endure to regain a sense of wholeness after cancer has taken something from them. And not everyone can or wants to have reconstruction.

The price paid isn't financial.

It's physical.
It's emotional.
It's psychological.

Words matter—especially when they come from healthcare professionals. Casual comments like these can minimise the trauma that breast cancer patients and survivors have lived through. They can make someone feel unseen, misunderstood, and dismissed.

This isn't about "being offended."

It's about recognising that language has power.

Before making jokes about cancer or someone's body, please stop and think.
Ask yourself: Would I say this to someone who has lost a breast to cancer? Would I say this to someone facing chemotherapy, radiotherapy, or another operation?

A moment's thought could spare someone a great deal of hurt.

Let's choose empathy over assumptions. Let's educate rather than minimise. And let's remember that behind every scar is a story we may know nothing about.

💗 Please think before you speak. Your words have the power to heal—or to hurt.

08/07/2026

The Hidden Side Effects No One Else Sees

When people think about cancer treatment, they often picture the visible side effects—hair loss, surgery scars, or fatigue.
But there are so many hidden side effects that others don't see.

The anxiety before every appointment. The fear that never seems to switch off. The brain fog that makes simple tasks feel impossible. The guilt of feeling like a burden. The loneliness, even when surrounded by people. The loss of confidence. The exhaustion that sleep doesn't fix. The uncertainty of not knowing what tomorrow will bring.

These invisible struggles can be just as challenging as the physical effects of cancer.

If you know someone living with or beyond cancer, remember that healing isn't always something you can see. Sometimes the greatest support comes from listening, checking in, and simply being there without trying to fix everything.

At Clart About Cancer Care, we believe every part of the cancer journey deserves to be acknowledged—the visible and the invisible.

💜 You are not weak.
💜 You are not alone.
💜 And you never have to pretend you're okay.

If this resonates with you, or you know someone who needs to hear these words today, please share this post. Together, we can make the invisible visible and remind people that they are seen, heard, and supported.