Cured

A Tuesday, appropriately. (Tuesday being the day I was formally diagnosed.) Poetic, it strikes me now. But at the time, … More

On not having cancer

On certain afternoons I am certain it has come back. A twinge in my right side, where the pain … More

We walked into the brunt light, towards the hospital. The air was dry, February-cold. Traffic was going about its business. … More

‘I am so, so sorry.’ ‘You’re going to be fine.’ ‘Fight it, you know you’re a fighter.’ ‘Are we going … More

This is a momentous week. It marks the tenth anniversary of the day I was told I had cancer. To … More

I am taking a break from writing brand new blog posts over the summer. Instead of posting new work I … More

I am taking a break from writing brand new blog posts over the summer. Instead of posting new work I … More

Tomorrow I will be taking part at the Wenlock Poetry Festival in an event with Roz Goddard. We will be … More

It’s hard to describe. One day your are fine, not quite the same (age will do this to you), then … More

Nine years ago today I was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, a cancer of the white blood cells. Even though I have … More

Reading Arthur W. Frank’s astonishing At the Will of the Body recently has given me pause to reflect on the relationship … More

Dear Arthur Frank I’m writing to say thank you for your extraordinary book At the Will of the Body. It is … More

A year ago I had a relapse of my cancer. Except I didn’t. For a week or so I knew … More

This is Jörn Cann. He was my ward doctor at the haematology unit where I was treated for non-Hodgkin’s … More

I am taking a break from writing brand new blog posts over the summer. Instead of posting new work I … More

I am taking a break from writing brand new blog posts over the summer. Instead of posting new work I … More

Seven years ago I published The Year of Drinking Water, a pamphlet of poems, about my experience of non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma (Exeter … More

A scan, with different initials. The train journey to it, biting nails; the one back pretending not to be radioactive. … More

Jörn Cann wasn’t my friend. He was my doctor. He was famous before we even met him as the doctor … More

The room is small, the size of a student bedsit. An enormous grey sofa takes up most of the space. … More

Don’t forget, this is inside us every day -Stephen Berg This is not happening. It happened. Past tense. One … More