Friends, family and assorted strangers have been sending thoughts and prayers about my ‘cancer journey’. It is, in the nicest possible way, a lot
I wrote a piece a few weeks ago railing at the app-heavy facelessness of dealing with the NHS about what I believe is known as one’s care pathway. My point was that it might be efficient if reducing head count in admin departments is what counts as efficiency, but not if clear communication is the aim. The whole palaver of the comms around the journey to diagnosis was more of a drama than the diagnosis itself, which was for a very mild variant of skin cancer. As fond as I am of a wallow in self-pity and catastrophisation, even I couldn’t get myself into a panic over this. So I certainly wasn’t courting sympathy or concern by making too much of it, and I was as careful as possible to get this across.
But then a couple of media outlets ran clickbait-type headlines along the lines of AC REVEALS HE HAS CANCER. And everything went nuts; thoughts and prayers came streaming in from all quarters. There were family and friends – to whom I’d not mentioned it because I didn’t think it merited a mention. There were people I’d not heard from in years.
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