My mother died of breast cancer after living with it for seven years.
I remember distinctly the day my parents called me to tell me the news. I was renting a room in a house in London, living by myself for the first time, and trying to navigate a new country, a new job, finding new friends. They told me my mother had found a lump under her arm and received that oh-so-feared diagnosis.
When I hung up the phone, I felt completely confused, shocked and very, very alone.
But never mind all that.
The story of my mother's disease isn't about me.
It's about my mother, the star of the tale, who kept living her life as best she could, made brave decisions about what treatment she would tolerate, and integrated alternative therapies where she could, like massage with Arnica oil to help with the pain.
When Cortisone injections numbed her left arm, she drove one handed (she had no choice - there was no public transport where she lived) and still got out to the charity meetings that were a big part of her life.
She helped me with my wedding, arranging for her friends to bring flowers for my bouquet, cutting single hydrangeas from her garden for my bridesmaids, and arranging for us to get our hair done. At the reception she sat, unable to dance, smiling and talking to friends and family, cradling her left arm with her right.
My family - key co-stars - gathered around her, cooking meals to bring to the house, driving her around once she could not longer do it herself, massaging her arm when she ached.
My sister went to my parent's house every day, checking in on them and, throughout all the years of the disease, taking on more and more tasks to help. My brother drove up to help too, keeping everyone's spirits up and emailing me regularly to keep me up to date. My cousin, a nurse, helped in all sorts of ways, bringing her expertise and constantly showing how big-hearted she is. My father stood by my mother's side, this woman he had shared over 50 years of marriage with, keeping things going in as normal a way as he could.
Cancer is a strange disease, different to the other common illnesses that involve a slow decline.
Unlike Alzheimer's, the Cancer patient doesn't forget who you are or become difficult to manage - they are just sick.
Unlike AIDS, there is no stigma attached, no sense of shame or guilt that you brought this on yourself (a fallacy but, nevertheless, people do feel that) or that there is someone else in your life who is to blame for giving it to you.
But Cancer does have two things in common with the two diseases mentioned above - there are all sorts of side effects that come with treatment, and it is difficult to manage all the various doctors, options and medications out there.
So I was so pleased to learn about a new site for people on the Cancer journey.
It's called Navigating Cancer and you can find it at www.navigatingcancer.com.
As the site says, Cancer is a journey, and, I would add, it don't come with no GPS.
So, if you know someone who is fighting Cancer, or supporting another person who is, tell them about this site.
Because everyone touched by this illness can use a little help.