having a low-key bizarre AF name

I have a kind of weird, big nose, I'm a little too tall, too skinny, with the smallest boobs ever, long, gangly limbs, a manly back and hip bones that have always stuck out just a little too far...

I'm basically Pinocchio with longer hair, and a marginally better butt.

My mum is 100% going to send me a Facebook message telling me not to be so mean to myself after that little self hate-i-ness... wait, what? I don't know, but I like hate-i-ness, I'm sticking with it.  Don't worry, mum, it's just a joke, I love myself.

ANYWAY...

Rational or irrational, we all have insecurities and those are a few of mine... but my weirdest and probably most irrational of them all is that I am ridiculously embarrassed of my name.  So much so, that as I write this although a few people are probably thinking "Guuuuurl, that is so dumb." I'm pretty sure the other 90% are more "Yup, I'd be embarrassed about that...".

Actually, Mum, if you are reading this, I'd just stop right now 'cause you've heard all this 100 times before and you won't like anything I have to say here... (sorry!)

My first name is Jemima... Yes, really... and even typing it, I'm cringing.  You know the funniest thing about my name?  My sisters' beautifully average names, Emily and Hannah.  Oh, what I would've given not to be the middle child, the one who got the quirky name so no one could accuse my parents of being boring.  My mum has assured me several times that this was not the case, that they were just picking names they liked and they never envisaged that it would cause so much of a problem.  They had no idea what a nightmare child I'd turn out to be... probably wish they'd just given the name to one of my sisters instead.

I know, I know, there are worse things in the world than my name - I mean this is a serious first world problem, I'm not expecting anyone to lose any sleep over it! But I'd be lying if I said I hadn't.... Your name is part of your first impression, and my first impression is usually a joke as it is - I didn't need an imaginative name to make it even worse!

It's got to the point now, where I feel genuinely embarrassed when people ask me to introduce myself, call me by my name or even write it down.  I awkwardly stand there, trying to make polite conversation, little do they know I'm using small talk as a crafty distraction to avoid the question I dread the most.  And then it happens...

"What's your name, by the way?"

Palms sweating, you got this, just try not to make it awkward like last time.

"Ridiculous"

Shit. You can still recover! Just tell her your name, she thinks you're weird now. Laugh it off...

"Hahahahahaha, it's Jemima... but-I-hate-it-it's-so-embarrassing-blame-my-parents-obviously-they-hate-me..." *awkward laugh*

Yeah, say more words in close succession.  That'll help.

"You-don't-have-to-call-me-that!"

WHAT? Who does that? Does anyone do that? Has anyone else in the history of the world ever introduced themselves and then told someone not to call them by the very name they just introduced themselves with?

"I have loads of nicknames, so many names I respond to...  Literally call me anything, just shout 'slut' and I'll probably turn around. Hahahahaha"

Oh my god. Just stop talking. You don't even know this person. Let her talk. At least give her the option to walk away...

"Oh....... I-I""

Don't know what to say? Yep, I've made this awkward. Maybe I should walk away...

"Err.. I think it's a nice name! ...... It's unusual."

(this part only happens if I'm in England - if I'm speaking to an American or Canadian I'm usually faced with "Hahaha, like the pancake lady?" and if it's anyone from Europe I get twenty questions... "that's an interesting name, what is it? say it again, I've never heard that before. Where's it from?  Really? What is it again? Je- Je- Jemaaaaaaymaa? Jemeeeeeeeema? Jimimahhh?")



"Yeah, it's just weird... I don't like"

"So why don't you change it?"

Such a fucking excellent question.  I wish we could just stop talking about this.

"Umm............ I just... I don't really know what to change it to"

Duuuhhh... How about... a name you do like?  Maybe you should just change your entire identity at this point, cut all ties now, make new friends... they'll like you more anyway, because you'll have a cool name.  In fact, not even a cool name, you should probably just settle for an average one at this stage.

And that's pretty much how it goes.  I end up genuinely considering moving away so I can start fresh with a less embarrassing name and I'd never again have to deal with:

• "Hahaha, no your real name."
• "What is it? Say it again... What?"
• "Are you joking?"
• "Why did your parents call you that?" *laughter*
• "Is that actually a name?"
• "Je-whatnow?"
• "Like the duck?"
• "Like the pancake lady?"
• "Like the kid in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang?"
• *laughter*
• "Do you have any siblings? Do they have weird names too?"
• "Wow, so I guess your parents decided they didn't like you pretty early on"
• "what are you sisters called? ... obviously your parents realised they made mistake before they got to the last one. *laughter*"
• "Your name is not Jemima! *laughter* No one's called Jemima!"

a comprehensive list of the precise reasons i don't like it

This isn't just me being a baby, this name actually has so many problems.

So, I've constructed a comprehensive list of reasons my name is not the greatest:

1. It has too many syllables, who needs that many? Like two is enough, it's actually an effort just getting my attention.  I think it's really weird that my parents actually went with that, with the knowledge that they'd have to say 'Jemima' several times a day for potentially the rest of their lives (provided I don't die before them, which let's face it, I've come pretty close! AYYEEE. Cancer jokes!).  I'm honestly pretty grateful I don't have to talk to myself, because I'm semi-sure that I pronounce it incorrectly at least half the time I introduce myself... It's pretty hard to say, no?

2. It kind of rhymes with vagina... I don't think I need to elaborate on this point, though maybe pointing out that my last name rhymes with 'bendy' will give you some indication of the nicknames I got at school.  Again, thanks mum and dad!

3. People misread it.  I used to get sweaty with panic every time we had a substitute teacher at school taking the register..... Like, I will take Jemma, but please don't call me Jeremiah.

4. People mispronounce it...  Even the people who chose it.

Last year my dad accidentally called me Giomima and seconds later my mum went with Jermamima.

SERIOUSLY?!  YOU NAMED ME.  YOU DID THIS TO ME.

5. People misspell it. Someone once spelled my name "Germima"... Like I'm some kind of germ.

Also, my parents recently added an additional "aggghh" to the end of my name because I am such a hassle.  They think they're so funny...



6. It sounds even stupider when people from other countries try to pronounce it - my French friend said it with a French accent and we laughed pretty hard... It was even worse in Spanish, because 'J' is pronounced more like 'H'.  My Polish friend just looked at me with utter bemusement when I first met her, and had to practice a few times before she got it...  Even now I'm not sure she always says it correctly.  I travel quite a bit, you know, it's just causing problems globally at this point.

7. It means 'dove'.  One time I told someone that they responded with "oh yeah, my name means Radox."

8. Starbucks.


9. I'm never going to find it on a keyring in a gift shop.

10. It's pretty pretentious.  My name along with my unwarranted semi-posh accent, leads people to think I'm much richer and much more stuck up than I actually am.  Which is annoying, because I'm very poor and in debt right now....... and I'm working on the stuck up thing...

11. If I overhear people talking about me, they are definitely talking about me.  There's no "oh, it's probably that other Jemima..." because there probably is no other Jemima within 100 miles.

12. Other people are embarrassed of saying my name, either because it's weird or because they're not entirely sure what it is and they don't want to get it wrong.  I have a lot of friends who've admitted they just avoided addressing me by my first name for months, because they weren't really sure what it was or how to say it.  I have literally slept with people who aren't sure what to call me... (although, maybe that's more of a reflection on me than my name. AYEEEE!).  No but really, I have been in semi-serious, but not-quite-relationship, non-slutty, fling-type situations with people who just didn't say my name the entire few weeks it lasted.

a thousand and one names to choose from

I know the most obvious thing I could do here is just go by Jem.  No one would question it, it's a perfectly normal acceptable name and it makes sense.  Unfortunately, I was conditioned from a young age to hate the name Jem.  My mum doesn't like Jem, so I was discouraged from using it at school and as a consequence I learnt to hate it.  Unsurprisingly, some people still choose to address me as "Jem", because having a weird name apparently gives everyone unspoken permission to create a nickname for you. Consequently, I will probably respond to any of the following:

• Jemima
• Mima
• Mimey
• Mimes
• Jam
• J
• Jamie
• Jemma (This is mostly people who think Jemma is my actual name and I've corrected them so many times it's just too awkward now... I've never asked anyone to call me Jemma)
• Jem (actually I usually don't respond to this one...)
• Jim
• Jimjam
• Jamjar
• Jammylee
• Jamaica
• Jumanji
• Ja-may-may
• Je-mee-mee
• Jimpops
• Jiminy Cricket
• Duck
• Puddle
• Puddle Duck
• Pieman (I don't know, ask my dad.)
• Nugget (I don't know, ask my uncle.)
• Slut/Whore/Princess (I don't know... okay, I kind of know... but ask Laura.) 

I had an unhealthy relationship with Tinder and recently, I had to say goodbye.  Kind of for lent, but like five days late because I forgot that was a thing and also I don't see myself re-downloading it anytime soon... So in some ways, not at all for lent, but it's kind of nice to do something for lent.  It just makes me feel better about myself. I'm not even religious... what am I?

I first downloaded Tinder in 2014 when I was visiting my sister at university.  She was new to the app and advised me to download it.  I was in a relationship (well... kind of... it's a long story) at the time, but she said it didn't matter because it wasn't really about dating and after she helped me set up a profile (just for fun). I kind of understood the appeal and kept it.  I never really swiped right, and I definitely didn't message anyone if I did because, like I said, I was in a (kind of) relationship, but there is something weirdly entertaining about swiping through pictures of strangers.  Not just the photos, but the whole idea of the app is somewhat amusing.  The bios and the photos and stuff; some people are super weird and Tinder is their place to shine.

There's a certain amount of stigma attached to the app, probably due to the format - it is primarily about appearance - and for that reason has a reputation as a 'hook up' app.  I know of people who have found more through it, but most of the time I think it was kind of accidental, no one actually expects to find love through Tinder.  Most people that I know agree that Tinder is just for fun.  This could be for casual dates and hookups, but often people don't even go on dates they just use it as a way to pass the time.  I've had it on-and-off, for three years and only actually met two guys in person (a total of four dates between them).  Can't say it's lead to much, I mean barely consider it a dating app at this point.  Somehow, though, I managed to spend hours a day on it.

So what is the appeal?  Why was I so addicted to it?

Firstly, in some ways, I initially thought of it as kind of a confidence boost... for girls, anyway, because mostly we get matches.  We know that boys just swipe right for almost everybody, but it still feels good when you swipe and it instantly comes up as a match.  Another great thing about it is there's usually someone to talk to if you're bored and your friends are busy.  Sometimes it's just funny because of the cheesy lines, the weird bios and bizarre photos.  Honestly though, it's mainly a time passer and/or distraction and as soon as I realised this (which was way way late), it was time for it to go.

I thought I loved Tinder, I thought Tinder was great... but in reality, Tinder was boring and annoying, but strangely addictive and low-key ruining my life.  I suddenly found myself on it every time I checked my phone.  I wouldn't be swiping right at all most of the time, but I would spend hours a day on it.  I'd use up all my data because of this app.  I'd Tinder on the bus, I'd Tinder in the gym, I'd Tinder in my classes, I'd Tinder on nights out with friends.  I realised how bad it was when I was discussing deleting it with a friend and then five minutes later I was on it!  She mocked me and said I couldn't delete it, and that's when I realised I had to because I couldn't remember the last time I hung out with friends when I wasn't on Tinder at some point... and that's just rude, for a start, but also really tragic.  It kind of became my thing.

After realising what a huge part of my life Tinder had become, I really thought deleting my beloved 'dating' app would be difficult, but it wasn't... not even one bit and maybe this is why:

1. i got a decent sleep

I felt so relieved when I deleted it, it was like a break up waiting to happen!  You know when your ex walks out of the door and you know you never have to see them again?  It was like that, only better... because - in a way- I just broke up with over 200 guys.  Wow, putting it that way makes me sound like such a slut.

Obviously I wasn't talking to every single one of my matches, but that doesn't mean that the few I did interact with weren't causing me stress.  It's hard for a girl to keep up with 8-10 Tinder boys, plus four group chats, two friends in crisis, a mother in another country, two Instagrams, Snapchat, Facebook, Twitter, a mediocre blog, oh and you know, uni work and the gym and real life etc. all in one day!  Cutting out the multiple average-to-boring conversations I was having with people I didn't really care about (and to be honest, couldn't even keep up with or remember what I'd said to who) actually made a huge difference to how chill I felt.

I didn't think Tinder was affecting my sleep, and I'm sure it wasn't the only contributor because I'm not sleeping any better now, but I think the initial relief was enough to lull me into a blissful night's sleep for once... That's a win in my book.

2. i spent less time on my phone

I didn't realise how time consuming it was.  The problem with Tinder is that it's kind of endless... I say 'kind of' because I've run out of potential matches more than a few times, but it takes a while!  We're all victims of our phones every now and then, spending hours scrolling through Instagram or Facebook videos, but I've found that since I deleted Tinder I can check Facebook, Snapchat and Instagram pretty quickly and then put my phone away again.  I'm definitely not missing the zombie-swipe-state I was in where I was just getting frustrated with the low quality of men being presented to me (who I'm sure were lovely but I'm kind of on a man-hating mission at the moment and they were getting in the way of that).


3. several guys started creeping on me in real life instead

I don't know why this happened, but as soon as I decided I was deleting the app, creepy guys started appearing everywhere else in my real life instead.  Maybe they were always there and I just didn't notice them because I was too caught up in my phone, but the very same day I deleted it someone added me on Snapchat and offered to send me pictures of his '9-incher'... I can only assume he got a new ruler or something.  I also received weird DMs on Instagram and a homeless man tried to feel me up at a bus stop.


Not sure Tinder can be help responsible for this... unless there are some kind of Tinder Karma Gods out there or something.  That would be horrifying.

4. i felt more confident

I didn't expect this either, but I just generally felt better in myself.  It's weird because I wouldn't have thought I cared about the opinions of strangers on an app, and to be honest, most of the messages I received (but often ignored) were complimentary.  Things along the lines of "you're so cute" and "hey beautiful" but it was all kind of cringey and totally pointless anyway.  If you read my previous post about the benefits of being single, you'll know I'm not really looking for a relationship right now.  So, I have no intention of dating these people and I honestly don't care if they think my best pictures are pretty or not.  For that reason, it didn't make me feel any better about myself, because most people on Tinder are losers and start the conversation with a lame compliment, but it's not exactly meaningful and sincere.  Let's be honest, most guys on Tinder are looking for a casual fuck and most guys will casually fuck anything.  It's not like that makes me feel bad about myself, but it doesn't exactly make me feel good about myself.  Being a strong, independent, Tinderless woman makes me feel better about myself.

The other thing you don't really consider when you're on the app is that you're putting yourself there to be constantly judged.  You're actually asking strangers to accept or reject you... No thank you, app.  I have enough guys rejecting me in my real life, I don't need electronic rejections too.

5. i didn't miss it at all

This one shouldn't have been surprising, but it kind of was.  I thought I'd be reaching for it all the time, accidentally opening up the 'Health' app which now sits where Tinder used to, but that didn't happen.  I barely even think of it unless a friend mentions it, but even that doesn't lead me to want to re-download it.

It's been great only getting notifications when my real friends message me, instead of several times a day receiving 'Daniel sent you a new message' or 'You have Super Likes waiting for you'... Who's Daniel? I don't give a crap who Super Likes me!  Previous evidence suggests they wouldn't in real life anyway. HAHAHA. No... seriously.

But basically, I think deleting Tinder was one of the best decisions I've made all year and I think everyone should do it....


(but not really because I'd feel bad for whoever created it because fundamentally I think it's a great idea for an app just not really what I want right now at this stage in my life and maybe some day I'll get it back and find true love and how am I gonna do that if it's gone, nomsayin? Sit tight Tinder Bae, I'll be back for you.)

I don't remember the date of my first trip to hospital, some time in early May.  It was probably a week or two after my first GP appointment, but I remember it felt relatively non-urgent (to me anyway) and I wasn't really worried...  Why would I be? Of course I knew that young people get ill but, just like everyone else, I assumed I wouldn't be one of them.  As far as I can remember, I was just excited to get another afternoon off school.

It was weird because not many of my friends knew where I was going or why, but I don't actually remember them asking much.  We all had GCSEs to worry about and people go to the doctor all the time.  Actually, I didn't, when I was younger... These days I may as well live there, but I think most of my friends, if they questioned it at all, would assume it was something pretty normal and non-serious.  Maybe I told them it was to do with my fatigue or the nerve problem I'd had with my leg for the last year. I only remember telling one or two people that there was potentially a cancerous tumour chilling on my collar bone, but I think that was a few weeks later anyway.  Honestly, why would they be concerned though?  Why would it be anything serious?  I was so skinny, had the diet of a young rabbit and barely missed a day of school in the eleven years I attended.

Mum picked me up from school a couple of hours early, I have a feeling it was a Monday but I could be wrong.  There is something ridiculously blissful about driving away from a quiet school, knowing that everyone else is in a lesson, knowing that you should be in a lesson, and in reality you're in a warm car with your shoes off and the radio on.

The hospital was about 30 minutes away.  We parked in the carpark by The Old Building of the hospital, which I don't actually think exists anymore.  I'm pretty sure they built over it, which is weird because for ages it was just where we parked every time we went and then suddenly we couldn't park there because it was a construction site.  From there we had to trek through most of the hospital to get to the appropriate department, which was a challenge because hospitals are built like mazes and we were heading to the complete opposite side of the building.  Thinking about it now, I don't know why we always parked there, but maybe there isn't a convenient way to get to the children's department.

The children's ward at Musgrove Park Hospital is split into two sections: the Oak Ward and the Acorn Ward.  I remember thinking it was cute they were named them like that; the Acorn Ward was for babies, prompting my mum to tell me a story about when she was there with my sister when she had pneumonia as a toddler and The Oak Ward was for the older children...  I became pretty familiar with that one.  We had to buzz to get in, because you know, kids and stuff, you don't want just anybody wandering around there.  Sometimes I got stuck out there and had to buzz to get back in.  The nurses probably got pretty annoyed, but by the time I actually had to stay there, I was the sickest kid on the ward (also the most ill), and you can't be mad at the one that's almost dead.  The wards were decorated with pictures of animals and kids stuff and honestly, I felt a little too old to be there as we walked past the younger children.  We passed the intensive care unit within the department, I didn't even notice it at the time, but a few months later I'd be back there with a nurse checking on me every hour, making sure I didn't die.  Weird, right?

We reached the desk and the nurse explained that the doctor was busy, but she was lovely and she'd be here soon, so we were taken into a room to wait.  I think it was a small ward, there were a few beds, but it was pretty much empty as far as I can remember.  Maybe there was a nurse in there and I think there was one other patient behind a curtain but, let's face it, I've always been somewhat self-involved and probably didn't pay them much attention.  I sat there in my pleated black skirt, black tights, half-broken ballet pumps and a navy sweater and we waited.  Mum probably pointed out that I needed new shoes because mine were falling apart and flat shoes aren't good for your feet anyway, and I probably responded with something sarcastic and pointed out that I was leaving school in a month and I'd never have to wear them again anyway.  She was probably talking about babies too, there were lots of babies and she likes babies.  I don't like babies, I was probably just rolling my eyes... Teenagers, eh?  I was in a pretty good mood though, most of my friends now only know me as the pessimistic mess that I am, but before I was somewhat more fun to be around.  Not a lot, I've always had a dangerously dark sense of humour and a pessimistic streak, but I was definitely a lot more positive than I am now... Life altering illnesses will do that to you.

I don't remember if we waited for very long that day, waiting in hospitals very quickly became a special skill but I don't think it ever bothered me that much anyway.  The way I've always thought about it is that I'm waiting, because someone else needs help more than I do and becoming a regular patient only confirmed that for me.  Most doctors aren't just hanging around having a chat and a coffee while you've been waiting 45 minutes for your appointment, and if they are it's most likely because they've been working hard saving lives and they need a break.  Honestly, when people complain about waiting times in hospitals and doctors offices I literally want to punch them in the face... and I'm not actually a violent person, I'm just quite vocally aggressive.  I fully understand that it can be annoying but I wish people would just stop and think before they do.  What some people don't realise is that sometimes you're waiting because a girl just collapsed and lost a lot of blood and she urgently needs this scan before you because otherwise she could die today.  Or that your doctor is late to the appointment because she was busy resuscitating a patient who went from non-critical to urgent in thirty seconds.  I know that, because I've been that patient... but I guess maybe some people complain because they're lucky enough to have never been in that position.

So then a magical human being entered the room; a woman who is genuinely some kind of superhero and though I didn't know it then would go on to save my life, perhaps three or four times.  Not only is she one of the reasons that I'm alive today, but she made every horrible thing I went through over the next few months and years, about seven thousand times easier than it otherwise would have been.  Her name was Louise, and I truly owe her my life.

She had long-ish brown hair, glasses and she usually wore beautiful skirts and shoes.  She was the perfect balance of funny and kind, she laughed at my horrible jokes about dying when my parents couldn't and she took the time to support them and advise them when they were worried.  On top of that she was ridiculously intelligent and understanding with a crazy amount of compassion and empathy.  She was the best doctor to the extend where I remember kind of hoping there was something a little bit wrong with me after we first met, because I just really wanted her to be my doctor.

The first day we met she came armed with a comically small paper file, which today is bigger than your average encyclopaedia.  It contained a few sheets of paper, but nothing remarkable.  Something about how as a child I was a total dumbass and sprayed window cleaner onto the window so closely that it bounced back into my eyes, which then went all red, and caused a family outing to A&E. Another entry explained the details of how I popped my little finger out of its socket when I was turning the bathroom tap off, causing another family outing and complete outrage from my sisters when they had to stop watching Indiana Jones just because the little finger on my left hand could suddenly bend the whole way back to my wrist.  On that occasion, I was playing with it so much on the way to the hospital that I actually managed to push it back in just as we arrived in the hospital carpark... concluding in a totally wasted trip.  It still bends out way more then the little finger on my right hand though, so I'm pretty sure I did it wrong... but whatever, it's a little freaky and I kind of like it.  I think there was also something in there about my feet when I was really young... they were too flat or I was walking weirdly or something, I don't know, they're fine now.  Actually, they're not because chemo and months of bedrest fucked them over, but they were fine then.

She started talking to us, basically addressing most of the things covered in my first GP appointment.  She asked general questions about what had happened, that weird question about whether I'd be hanging around any cats... I don't know if I ever found out why people kept asking me that.  I probably did, but the chances are I wasn't really listening.  I don't care for cats.  Plus, I barely remember actually useful information, let alone why cats might cause raised lymph nodes in teenage girls. She examined me and asked if I'd experienced night sweats, itchy skin, chest pain or difficulty breathing.  No, no, no and no, not that I'd noticed... I think the fatigue issue came up, mum probably brought it up and I imagine she told her that I'd been 'over-doing it' because mums always say that, but at this point I was just concerned because they were weighing me and taking my height and I didn't want anyone to find out I hadn't eaten that day.  Another doctor came in and was like "oh so this is the girl with the mysterious lump" or something along those lines... I'm glad that didn't catch on as a nickname.  I mean, I'm not overly keen on Jemima as a first name, but I won't be trading it in for "the girl with the mysterious lump" anytime soon.

After they both looked at me and asked more questions Louise explained that she wanted to do a couple of tests and that she would send the scans to a wonderful doctor in Bristol who was a specialist in this kind of thing.  She didn't mention at that point that he was an oncologist.  She sent me for an x-ray and said there were a few things it could be and it could be nothing; sometimes lymph nodes just pop up when you're stressed, but I'm pretty sure at this point she already knew it was bad.  She couldn't have guessed exactly how bad it was going to get, no one would've predicted that, but it wasn't a great start.

So, we walked bloody miles through this hospital again.  The children's ward is way over on one side and the x-ray department is a good ten to fifteen minute walk but we didn't have to wait very long, x-rays are pretty speedy.  I just remember the waiting room being full of old people, everyone they pushed past looked minutes from death.  It was a pretty depressing part of the hospital...

My first x-ray was a pretty uneventful but unnecessarily awkward event. I didn't have to take all my clothes off, but I had to take my top and bra off and replace it with a less than flattering gown... that was inconvenient and embarrassing.  Eventually, the months and months of having my body examined and countless scans and accidentally flashing people, would lead to me becoming the shameless individual I am today.  If I had to do the same thing now I wouldn't really care who saw my nipples through a hospital gown - take a look! I have perfect nipples - but that was probably one of the most embarrassing things that had happened to date and even though the nurse was female, I was very self-conscious about the whole event.  You'd think my mind would be mostly focussed on the potentially serious illness I was yet to be diagnosed with, but it just didn't seem like a concern. Everything was so different then, I don't even remember what it's like to be like that... so blissfully unaware of real fear, real pain, real suffering.

They took the x-ray, I put my underwear back on and then we started our long trek back to the children's ward, we waited there a little while longer and the nurses got us some colouring to do at a teeny tiny table, before being taken into a private room where Louise was waiting at a computer.  I was still in a relatively good mood, I made a couple of jokes - as I do - and we sat down, but I knew the atmosphere had changed since the last time we saw her. Her tone had slightly shifted, her voice was still calm and happy but it was serious. She laughed at my jokes, but it was clear it was time to stop making them.  I don't think I did, I made jokes the whole way through my treatment because I'm inappropriate and awkward and I can't deal with serious situations.

She brought up the scan on the computer screen and we all looked at it.  At this point, I freaked the fuck out.  I almost jumped backwards.  Now, I'm no radiographer, which is why I was stressing about entirely the wrong thing... but my back looked bent.  I mean really bent, my spine looked like it had a lay-by.  Evidently, this was entirely the wrong thing to be concerned about and Louise didn't even mention it.  I think I asked and she told me that most people have some kind of curve in their spine and it's completely normal but that didn't stop me obsessing over it for a good few minutes. She directed our attention to an area of my lung, which to be perfectly honest with you, looked like a completely normal lung to me, further demonstrating, that I was not a radiographer.  I remember her explaining that there was supposed to be a gap between my heart and my lung and there wasn't, or that it was much smaller than it should've been, or darker or maybe there wasn't supposed to be a gap at all but there was... I don't remember the details, but there was something going on that caused her concern.  I think she said that usually if the scan shows up like this it's because there's something in the way, that there could be lymph nodes there or something... maybe.  Okay, so clearly I have a very limited idea of what was wrong, science was never a subject of interest at school, but I knew at this point that there was something wrong. My mum looked worried, but I tend not to worry until I know all the details and so far there may or may not have been a shadow or a gap somewhere on an x-ray... That information meant literally nothing to me, so I was still okay.  I wished she'd hurry up and explain it though, the suspense was killing me.  The build up was total jargon anyway... it wasn't the interesting kind of suspense, I was just confused.

Then she said "I don't want you to worry yet but this concerns me, there are a few things it could be but what it's indicating to me is some form of lymphoma".  Mum started crying.  Louise quickly grabbed some tissues and tried to comfort her... and I sat there like a lemon and looked between them utterly confused.  Let's try to remember that I'm fifteen here, I don't know what lymphoma is but I'm pretty sure it's not good at this point.  Based on what was going on I assumed I was supposed to be shocked or scared or upset, but it's hard to feel any of those emotions when you have no real idea what is happening.  Louise, a mum of three daughters just like my mum, was still trying to comfort her and explain what we were going to do, that we don't have to worry yet, that it's going to be okay.  Mum was trying to not cry and listen instead and no one was even really looking at me.  It was like they had completely forgotten I was even there, although I'm pretty sure my mum was acting in this way because I was there and she didn't want me to see her cry.  My mum cries at everything, I literally caught her crying during an emotional scene on Hollyoaks once, so I don't know what she was worried about.

I interrupted with "wait, but what is that? what does that mean?" and Louise paused.  They both looked at me and I waited until she slowly said "it's a type of cancer".

That was the first time it felt real. I felt a hot flush run through my entire body and my throat suddenly felt impossibly dry and I wanted to be silent, but she was looking at me and I couldn't... so I just said "oh... okay." and she carried on talking.

(or until all our friends settle down and we're alone and realise we've made a huge mistake putting ourselves first all this time because now all the good guys are taken)

Obviously, due to being the attractive specimen that I am I had big plans on Valentine's Day, multiple date offers... Just kidding, the only thing in my life screaming "do me" was a huge pile of laundry and probably some reading that I've been neglecting.  I actually did get asked out (no really), but I didn't want to go on a first date on VDay because that would be weird, and also, I wanted to make that joke about laundry.

ANYWAY, despite all that and my man-hatery, I do love Valentine's Day...  Wait what? Yeah, I know.  I actually love love, just as long as I'm not in it.  I love all the cheesy gifts, I think they're hilarious, who doesn't want a lobster with "Pinch Me I Think I'm In Love" written on the side?  The problem is, I invariably get to celebrate it as it's supposed to be celebrated because I love being single..... Oh yeah, and no one would ever have a crush on me so... why would people buy me that stuff?

I don't know if it's possible to tell people that you're happily single - like really, really happy to be single - without it sounding like you desperately want a boyfriend... but please believe me when I say I am.  I actually don't care if you believe me, it's the truth either way.  Men can probably get away with saying they like being single without being accused of lying... double standards.  This is probably also a good time to point out that I don't love being single because I want to sleep with many, many men.  Men can get away with being happily single without being called sluts too... triple standards.

I just love being single and I'm good at being single and sometimes I worry that I'll end up alone because I'll be so busy being single that all the good ones will be taken.  I guess I could just steal a married man.... but that's kind of immoral.

Anyway, if you're one of those girls who spent vday watching The Notebook, drinking wine and crying... here's why you should've been celebrating instead!


1. you have more time to achieve goals and focus on yourself

I'm not saying you can't achieve goals in a relationship, I guess if you're with the right person and getting the right kind of support from them they can even help you with that.  I do believe that being by yourself gives you the space and freedom to realise what YOU really want!  Whether that's with work or travel or fitness, anything you do, you're doing it for yourself.  Which is great because who better to make happy than that voice in your head you have to spend all of your time with?  It's that classic "love yourself first" thing, ya know.

2. sisters before misters

Sometimes when you're in a relationship your significant other becomes your best friend... which is lovely... relationship wise!  But when that inevitably comes to an end and they realise you're an annoying mess and leave you for someone better, you're really going to need your friends.  Sometimes you forget how much you love them until then, which sucks, but the best ones stick around anyway because y'know we've all been stuck in a boy-bubble... Your friends are some of the most important people in your life and - as long as you're not a dick - they don't break up with you!  Being single gives you the time to really appreciate that and have those fun girly and paint each others toenails and have pillow fights in your underwear.  Lol jk... we literally never do that.



3. dat freedom though

You wanna go to that new Mexican restaurant? Oh but your boyfriend doesn't like Mexican food... Bummer.  Or you want to spend six weeks travelling around Europe? Dream job in Dubai? Spontaneous trip to Paris? Or the pub? Or the moon? Okay, not the moon... But seriously, a friend could call you up and be like "I'm going to South America for six months, wanna come?" and you'd only have to check with your bank balance.


4. more money for yourself

Relationships make you spend money, unless you're some kind of money-grabbing-gold-digging-hoe... which... you know... no judgement.  But sometimes in a relationship with all that equality and feminism and stuff, you end up going out more and spending money on your other half and buying them gifts for their birthday.  You don't have to do that if you're single.  In fact, it would be really, really weird if you started buying your ex presents...... don't do that.

5. less stress

Yeah, ten guys liked my selfie and who's gon' shout at me about it? Oh right, no one.  Who's gonna argue with you because you haven't seen them enough this week?  Probably your needy bestie, if you're lucky enough to have one... but it won't be your lame boyfriend.

6. no heartache

Being single means you don't have to fall asleep at night wondering whether that guy next to you will still want to be with you the next day.  I don't even have a joke here, not being in a relationship just seriously decreases your risk of heartbreak...



7. MY bed

OH MY GOD YAAAAS.  You get to take up all the space you like, you can stay on your phone or your laptop until 1am without worrying if someone else wants to go to sleep, you can wake up when you want, you don't have to worry about someone waking you up in the middle of the night to cuddle (eurhghh... although apparently some people like that?), you don't have to put up with anyone's bad morning breath, or getting kicked in your sleep, or punched in your sleep, or getting too hot because there's someone else in your bed.  Hello good sleep.

8. you get to pick the movie

Sometimes I just want to watch Bridget Jones, okay?  I don't need any complicated plot lines where I'm just going to be asking you what's going on half the time.



9. you don't sacrifice yourself

Not in a creepy voodoo way... but even good relationships take work and time and energy and compromise.  I honestly feel like I'm just too young to compromise what I want.  Being single gives you the chance to learn that you don't want to sacrifice yourself, preparing you to be in a relationship if/when you're ready for one.  I mean don't take it too far, compromise is a good thing, you don't want to lose the ability to do that, but you learn what's worth compromising and what isn't.

10. you learn to look after yourself

Being by yourself teaches you how to really take care of yourself.  You stop relying on someone else to bring you happiness and start finding it on your own.  You cheer yourself up when you're feeling down or you lean on your close friends and you realise you're okay by yourself.  You have to buy your own cough medicine and emergency tampons and soup... actually that part kind of sucks, but not nearly as much as becoming reliant on someone else and then having to work out how to do it all over again.

11. you can laugh at yourself for being single

This is legit one of my favourite things to do.  I don't actually think anyone else finds it as funny as I do, but I still think it's hilarious.  What you do is every time you do sometime awkward/unsexy/weird (basically everything I do), you say "oh my god, why am I single?" or "I can't believe no one will date me" or "yeah, this is why I'll be alone forever".

It's funny, people laugh... I laugh.  Maybe other people don't laugh, I wouldn't be able to tell over the sound of my own laughing.



12. dating is fun

Dating is so much fun, provided you don't fall for a douchebag and get your heart crushed over and over whilst telling them that you're chill, down for whatever, have no real feelings for them ahahaha *cries*.

Seriously though, you can talk to as many guys as you like, you don't have to worry about anyone getting jealous, you can go on dates, hook up with handsome strangers you meet on holiday, get dinner bought for you every now and then... no strings attached.  Should I again point out that I'm not a slut?  I'm just noting your options here.

On the other hand, you could find yourself being disappointed by multiple men...  Probably more likely... That is the risk you take.

13. TINDER

I genuinely don't understand why anyone wouldn't want Tinder, it's so entertaining.  Is it okay to keep Tinder even when you're in a relationship?  Probably not...


14. you can still believe in happily ever after

Even though you're having the best time of your life, you can still believe that one day someone is going to sweep you off your feet and it will be at just the right time and it will be uncomplicated and perfect and fun... and you won't have any regrets!

Lump is such a disgusting word, right?  It's so gross, but 'finding the tumour' sounds kind of scary... and also, I didn't have just one tumour, I had lots of tumours all over my heart and lungs and possibly my liver too, but there was some dispute about that and I'm not sure if they ever cleared it up.  See, that all just sounds way scarier, right? and it wasn't really scary yet.

I don't remember the exact moment I found it.  It seems weird now that I don't remember it, because I probably should.  I suppose, at the time, I didn't realise that it would be this huge defining moment in my life and a lot of my memory was being utilised to store Taylor Swift lyrics.  I don't remember if I saw a shadow in the mirror and wondered what was protruding out of my skin, just above my right collarbone.  I don't remember if I was moisturising and brushed my hand against it, or if I was scratching my neck and accidentally stumbled upon it.  Thinking back now, I honestly have no idea whatsoever how I discovered the cancerous tumour resting on the outskirts of my neck.  I think I was lying in bed, brushing a hair off my neck or something when my fingertips first discovered it, but I couldn't say for sure. I should remember, because looking back that was a pretty huge moment in my life, but I just don't.  I don't know if I was scared or confused or if I just had no idea what was about to happen.  I don't know if I was actually so scared that my brain doesn't want me to remember it... although I'm pretty sure that's not the case.  I just didn't realise it was an important moment.

I remember that it was night time when I found it, it must've been 23:30 at least and I'm pretty sure it was a school night, possibly a Sunday.  It was April 2010, near the end of April... I don't remember the exact date, but I want to say the 25th or the 26th.  With this vague information, I could probably look it up and work it out exactly, but who really cares?

I think dad was still awake, watching tv but mum had definitely gone to bed, so I went to find Emily.  She was on the computer probably talking to boys on MSN because people still did that back then.  I remember I told her about it and she poked it and I remember laughing, we both laughed because it was squishy and it moved up and down my collar bone a little bit when you pushed it.  It was really funny and kind of gross, but we like gross things. Then I remember stopping laughing and saying to her something along the lines of "This kind of isn't funny though, like... it could be cancer."  I think I was a little bit freaked out at this point, but as a healthy-ish fifteen year old I probably managed to convince myself that it probably wasn't, because who gets cancer?  Other people get cancer, we just hear about it and acknowledge that it's sad because we know it is, but what do we really know about suffering?  Emily just laughed and said "it's not cancer, you dick" or something equally sentimental.  She then proceeded to really freak me out as she told me a story about people who found lumps in their necks and it turned out to be a spider's nest and then one day hundreds of teeny tiny baby spiders started crawling out of their skin and all over their body. As sick as it sounds, that was scarier than cancer at that point.  In fact, I'm pretty sure I actually said in that moment "Oh my god, I would rather have cancer."

I think I told my mum the next morning.  I distinctly remember her pushing it in both directions and saying something along the lines of "well, it's not a tumour because it's moving and tumours don't move.  It's probably just a gland, but we should take you to see the doctor because you haven't been that well recently anyway."  We were standing in the hallway as she examined it, about to leave for school and Hannah was standing next to her saying "Ewww, I want to touch it" and laughing.  I probably let her play with it after mum was done, we used to play with it a lot because it was really freaky and gross, but equally funny.

Mum was right though, I hadn't really been myself recently but it was nothing serious and I'd put it down to other things.  For one, I was hardly eating at all and I hadn't been for months. That was a whole entirely separate issue (because I have more issues than Vogue), but it was probably the stress of exams and I felt a lot of pressure to be skinny.  I know that sounds weird, because I'm tiny and I pretty much always have been (minus the time they put me on steroids and I went up two clothes sizes), but I was terrified of gaining weight.

Anyway, I'd been really, really tired; there were a couple of days I was so exhausted that I just suddenly lay down in the middle of the kitchen floor because I didn't have the energy to move to somewhere more comfortable.  I remember one day I was too tired to really function at all, I tried to stay up and move around, but every room I went to I had to lie down. I can't even explain what it was like because I haven't really felt exhaustion quite like that since.  I just remember I felt really weak, like I'd been awake for 30 hours but it was only 11am.  I put it down to a bad night's sleep or that I only ate half a potato 12 hours ago - both perfectly reasonable explanations.  There were probably other symptoms we missed... I guess I'd been waking with night sweats, but I didn't really think about it at the time.  If you wake up covered in sweat, you just get a bit grossed out, assume you had too many blankets or layers or whatever and have a shower.  You don't think "shit... well that's cancer.".

So, we went to the GP either that day or the next and I missed a morning of school, which was great.  It's almost hilarious when I think of it now but I was NEVER sick as a child which meant I never got to miss school, so I was on some level delighted.  Almost hilarious, because if I don't laugh, I'll cry, but pre-Cancer, feeling unwell was a cold maybe once a year... Now it's a daily occurrence.  I think it's actually become part of my identity, I'm just that girl who's always sick (and always complaining and always late... not sure I can blame those on cancer though).

I remember sitting in the doctors office as the lump was examined.  She asked me if it hurt, which it didn't and then started talking to my mum about stress and exams.  My mum expressed concern that I was working too hard for my GCSEs and that I was "overdoing it" (which is hilarious because, I wasn't, I was really just drawing a lot for my Art exam and neglecting subjects that might actually be useful).  Perhaps I was anaemic, or just "coming down with something".  That was an optimist diagnosis, because in reality I was coming down with cancer, but we wouldn't have that confirmed for another couple of months.  I think they took my bloods, or maybe I had to make another appointment for that, and I distinctly remember the doctor asking if I had itchy skin (which as far as I noticed I hadn't) and if I'd been near any cats.  The answer to that was a HELL NO, because cats are disgusting.

She had a calm voice and went through several possible reasons for my new squishy friend.  It was a gland, a lymph node, but we shouldn't worry because sometimes they do just pop up and it may just go back down again.  I don't feel like anyone was worried at this point though, it could've easily been nothing... but, just to be on the safe side - a phrase I'm pretty sure they use around children and mothers, to ease them into bad news gently - an appointment would be made at the hospital where I could see a wonderful paediatrician and she could take it from there.

So, this post may be a little sassier than it needs to be... BUT anyone with a gluten intolerance will totally be able to relate to it!  Honestly, most of the time I don't mind people asking me about my diet... it's when they start complaining about it that it bothers me.  Trust me, bitch.. This is way more inconvenient for me than it is for you.

Everyone needs a little bit of a rant now and then - so here's a few things that bother me when people ask me about being gluten free and I'm feeling sassy!


1. Are you really though?

*insert eye roll*

Yes, yes I am.  Why would anyone ever pretend to be gluten intolerant?  Gluten is delicious.  It just hates me.  Also I know I'm not coeliac, they're separate things, but they both exist.  You don't need to tell me this.





2. What happens if you eat gluten?
... answering this will make both of us feel uncomfortable.  Use your head.




3. OH MY GOD. Does that mean you can't have cake/bread/pasta/every delicious food ever?

Yes, that's what it means.. Thank you for reminding me.




4. I couldn't do it. 

........ okay, well if you prefer constant pain, bloating, fatigue, headaches, bad skin (do I even need to continue?) to cake, that's your call.





5. What do you eat?



.... Basically.  Nah I'm kidding! A lot of food is gluten free and there's pretty much a gluten free alternative to everything now anyway...  Apart from in Mexico, in Mexico I mainly survived off potatoes.




6. Can't you just have a little bit though?



Yeah, and why don't you drink a little bit of bleach and then we'll both just lie here in pain?




7. I don't actually understand what gluten is.

Gluten is the protein in wheat, which means it's in all wheat products.  The sneaky bastard also crops up in dressings, sauces and other unexpected locations, but the basic thing to remember is flour is made from wheat.  If in doubt, just say to yourself "was this made from flour?" instead of shoving doughnuts in my face and saying "YOU CAN'T EAT THIS, CAN YOU?".

Side note: Wheat is not the same as every grain ever... I can eat rice.  It's also not the same as carbs.  I eat potatoes.  Lots of potatoes.... I'm eternally thankful for the many ways you can eat potatoes.




8. You're so high maintenance...

Okay... well... I guess, in some ways... but... I mean... that's still kind of rude, dude. I didn't chose the gluten free life, the gluten free life chose me.  I'm way more fun when I'm a 'picky eater' than when I eat bread...... trust me.