The day after I received my breast cancer diagnosis last year, when I was still unsure whether it had spread and how bad the news really was, my partner opened his mouth to comment on my loading of the dishwasher. I knew what was coming: some clearly mistaken criticism of the positioning of the fish slice, or a question about why I’d chosen to (correctly) place the small saucepan in the top rack. But then he closed his mouth again. Immediately I told him that this couldn’t go on. No matter how ill I was, he couldn’t stop arguing with me about the dishwasher. He agreed, and stayed true to his word, despite being definitely wrong.
When you find that you’re seriously ill, you know a lot of things are going to change, and it’s scary. I was keen to keep things as normal as possible if I could, and that included my closest relationships. I didn’t want the fact of me having cancer to creep into every aspect of my life, to the extent that I’d be treated differently by people who knew me best.
