** Please note - The booby pin is no longer for sale**
It's been a while since I updated my blog, I've been so busy which I definitely cannot complain about. This post is very personal, and very sad, maybe a little rambling too, but hopefully worthwhile.
My lovely mum was diagnosed with breast cancer after her very first routine mammogram at 50. She felt no lump, no pain, it was only picked up because of this routine screening. She had a mastectomy, chemotherapy and radiotherapy. It had spread to her lymph nodes and they were removed too. She was horribly ill from her chemo, but 3 months later she married my stepdad - after 18 years together. I shaved her head a few days before her wedding day which was one of the most bizarre things I've done.
She was a fighter. She was the most positive, bravest person I have ever known. She never felt sorry for herself, she never got angry, she just accepted that this had happened and carried on her life exactly as she always had. She got better! She became a grandmother for the first time. She looked after my son so I could work, while she herself still worked. She raised money for Macmillan.
Then, she wasn't better anymore. Almost 5 years later, they found that it had spread to her bones (her spine, her skull, her breastbone) and to her liver. It wasn't curable anymore, but they were positive that she could still live a good and relatively long life with the help of drugs and bone strengtheners. But then they weren't positive anymore. The mets in her skull were pressing on her brain, it made it seem like she had had a stroke. Still she fought, still she carried on, never complaining, making the most of the time she had.
Eventually, it all declined. They decided that they couldn't treat her anymore - it would make her sicker. They told us 3 days after Christmas that this was the end of the line. And that's when she finally gave up. For two weeks she declined, and she died 2 days before her 57th birthday. 57 years of life. The same age as her own mother when she died, also from cancer. That means, at age 31, I could also possibly be over halfway through my life. I could also get run over by a bus tomorrow, or live to be 101, but that's by the by. It puts everything into perspective. I don't really sweat the small stuff anymore. I barely even sweat the big stuff.
You'd think that the day she died would be the worst day of my life. It wasn't. I was relieved. The previous 2 weeks had been the worst 2 weeks of my life. Her decline was not nice to watch. It was awful, worse than awful. Watching someone you love fade away into nothing but a mere shell of the person they once were was almost too much to bear. But during that time, Macmillan were the best. They gave advice and comforted. They even sorted practical things, like equipment. We raised over £1000 at her funeral for them.
So, I decided to create a pin so I could continue on her fundraising. She loved Macmillan coffee mornings and bake sales. I can't cook, I can't bake. I wouldn't be able to even raise 20p selling my own baked creations... However, I can design.
And so here we are. A booby pin. Wear it with pride, and know that 100% of the profits will go to Macmillan Cancer Support - so they can continue the good work they do, and I can continue to carry on my mums legacy in some way. And if anyone asks you why on earth you're wearing a pin with a some boobies on it, tell them why, and tell them that they should ALWAYS check their boobies - man or woman. Tell them they should ALWAYS attend routine screenings, whatever that may be for. Tell them that they should always report any changes to their boobies, or vaginas, or penises or bollocks. Heh. I just said bollocks in a blog post.
Thanks for reading this self indulgent waffling on. You're the best.