Not having those conversations can cost lives. So what's stopping us on this one? The dictionary definition of vagina is very straightforward: 'the part of a woman's body that connects her outer sex organs to her womb'. It's an anatomical term, and should be used without shame.
I refused to leave until I got a follow up appointment. I got a follow-up appointment... During the ultrasound even we could see the absolutely enormous cancerous tumour on the screen, which had been growing in Luke's bladder the whole time.
I'd love it if people who wanted to know the realities of cancer read real accounts of living with cancer, either written by sufferers or those close to them, and if we could dispel these ideas that cancer is all bald heads, cake, trips abroad, and profound moments.
The stuff I don't post on social media are the things that keep me up at night. The discussions I've had with Dad about Mum's health. Worries about whether Mum will make it up the stairs tonight. How exasperated I feel that my family seem to have stopped leaving the house.
I felt like I was still in a little bubble dealing with my own diagnosis, without it being obvious to the world that I was a cancer patient. I knew as soon as all the hair was gone the bubble would burst and everyone would know - they just had to look at me.
I knew ovarian cancer existed but it wasn't really on my radar in the same way, say, breast cancer is - and I made a fair few assumptions about it. Surely my yearly cervical smear would take care of everything 'down there', right? Wrong. Smear tests detect cancer of the, well, the cervix. Turns out there are lots of other gynaecological cancers too.
Once treatment had finished and my hair was growing back I decided to go out into the dating world which was one of the scariest things I had to do - I thought 'no one wants to date someone that has had cancer!' But in December I met someone and we are still together.
Kamal Aftab, who has died aged 33, was a youth mentor, fundraising champion and optometrist. He was also my younger brother. Originally from Huddersfield in West Yorkshire, Kamal died at Leeds' Saint James's University Hospital on the 7 August 2015 after a six-week battle against Acute Myeloid Leukaemia. My brother's passion was simple, but vast: it was the service of humanity.
I now look back on a life filled with adventure and excitement as living a series of sprints. What has changed for me is the absolute assurity that I would die young has gone. I now hit 50 years on this planet knowing that I have no idea how long I have ahead for the first time in my life.
There are certain realities you have to face when you have a cancer diagnosis. Life is never going to be quite the same again. Chemotherapy saps your strength and energy levels and the radiotherapy is sore long after you leave the unit, but worse than the treatment itself, for many women, is the hair loss.
When I get up on a morning now, everyone is still asleep. I get up in silence, creep around the house getting ready for my run before returning, showering, and getting ready for work as quietly as possible. I walk through the door on an evening now and I see and hear nobody. It's silent.
Fibre comes in a range of foods like fruits and veg, pulses as well as nuts and seeds. But it's the fibre in grains like wheat, oats, barley and quinoa that so many of us are missing out on. Either because we don't eat enough of the grains full stop, or when we do eat them we choose refined versions.
Over the 40 years that I have been a doctor I have noticed that 'textbook' presentations of disease are becoming rarer. For example we have all come across stories of the healthiest of people succumbing to heart attacks whilst on the squash court. The same applies to cancer.
All day as I pack up and contemplate returning to my parents' house, one wonderful quote from my favourite wise bear, Winnie-The-Pooh, sticks in my mind: 'How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard'.
I have a number of friends who are battling cancer with the near certainty that death is coming to them. It's at times like this I realise how little teaching there is on death and how we should face it. It's understandable in a world that doesn't want to talk about death and prefers to hope that there might be an opt-out clause.
I was devastated by my diagnosis, and the thought of the long battle ahead terrifies me. No university next year, no normal life, just intense chemotherapy and all of its side effects. But I know that I will fight and I will recover