It's every mother's greatest fear that she will have to leave her children. My daughter Kate Gross lived with that fear for more than two years, before she died of colon cancer a few weeks ago. I wish she was here now so I could tell her that the boys are getting on just fine. Oscar and Isaac were three when Kate was first diagnosed. Twins, but very different little beings. Oscar dark-haired, violet-eyed, solid - and with an astonishing ability (in Kate's words) to 'focus on things, to know them utterly'. Isaac, blond and agile and restless. 'Each of them,' she says, 'carved out his own space in my heart, a space which fits him exactly.'
My cancer journey has been going on for 10 years now. When it started I was just getting into the frame of mind of having serious relationships; getting married and having children. As things have turned out, I've had to sit on the sidelines watching my friends do it instead. After I was diagnosed I knew I would never have children.
There's no way to avoid technology on a day to day basis, so is there an issue with utilising this online access to the world wide public? It opens up another avenue for individuals to become lazy, but also, it's a great source of widening people's knowledge and understanding of the world around them, and bringing major issues to light.
My facebook timeline was flooded with selfies this morning. Bare-faced, no-filter (ahem) selfies, posted by friends in the name of cancer awareness and asking others to do the same. In my usual bleary-eyed, early morning confusion I couldn't understand why, on a social networking site where most of us scroll mindlessly through the interminable selfies of the people on our friends list every single day, another selfie would help cure cancer.