It was boarding the plane to the Arctic Circle in thick snow two days before the tenth anniversary of my breast cancer surgery that I allowed myself to believe that I would make it to my 10-year clear celebration. I’d reasoned with myself that even if I were to fall ill standing on a frozen lake wearing pretty much everything I owned, with a group of strangers, hot chocolate and a husky for company, I could hardly request an 'on-the-spot' MRI scan or a blood test. I had made it to 21 February – and had trekked out into the middle of nowhere in snowshoes just to be sure.
That’s breast cancer for you. Its shadow never leaves you. Making it to that all-important 10-year milestone is a moment that too many people don’t make.
So, when I saw it hurtling towards me, I decided to take myself off to a remote and otherworldly environment that tested me in ways I could never have imagined. I wanted to stare at the biggest sky, in the coldest of temperatures, and shout to the big wide world. And that’s exactly what I did – before scurrying back into the nearby igloo to bury myself under an electric blanket in front of a toasty log fire.
I was never going to mark a decade of learning how to live again by sitting on the sofa. But, bearing in mind my Arctic challenge represents just a tiny fragment of my year-long celebration, I think many around me would rather I put my feet up and declare the win. I’m writing this having recently broken the Guinness World Record for the fast.
