This post is written in advance and scheduled to appear exactly six years from the date of the appointment at the breast clinic that started my cancer journey in 2010.

This year, for a variety of reasons, I've made a conscious effort not to draw attention to the anniversary ahead of time, or even too much today. 

Nevertheless, it remains, for me at least, an important milestone - an opportunity to reflect and rejoice; to give thanks for my own continuing life and health, and to remember the, all too many, friends I have made and lost in these years.

I had contemplated posting some stuff that was fairly frank, but I know that among my readers are gentle folk who would find that distressing.  Suffice to say, I seem to be lucky/blessed enough thus far as to remain in the good part of the statistics.

So this year, no social gatherings, no personal fundraisers for cancer charities, just a bit of utter doggerel, with apologies to AA Milne.

When I was one
Active treatment was done

When I was two
Up Ben Nevis I flew...
Well, actually I staggered, but that doesn't rhyme.

When I was three
Reconstruction was finished - yippee!

When I was four
I'd been to New Zealand on tour...
Well, actually to present a paper at a conference but doesn't sound so much fun!!

When I was five
I celebrated life!

And now I am six
I'm still in remission:
NED seems a good status
for ever and ever!

In these six years I have heped to raise thousands of pounds for cancer charities, met some amazing and inspiring people, done things I'd never have imagined and learned just how precious life is.  Sometimes I need to remind myself of this... and sometimes I need to allow myself the indulgence of speaking of it.