{"id":10454,"date":"2025-12-27T09:00:00","date_gmt":"2025-12-27T10:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/?p=10454"},"modified":"2025-12-31T21:33:52","modified_gmt":"2025-12-31T21:33:52","slug":"i-have-terminal-cancer-death-is-a-precious-reminder","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/2025\/12\/27\/i-have-terminal-cancer-death-is-a-precious-reminder\/","title":{"rendered":"I have terminal cancer \u2013\u00a0death is a precious reminder"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n
\n\t\t\"Annie\t<\/div>
I don\u2019t see death as something to fear so much as it is <\/strong>something to acknowledge (Picture: Vicki Head)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

When <\/strong>I was diagnosed with incurable cancer<\/a> in July last year, I was surprised by my reaction.<\/p>\n

Instead of the <\/strong>panic<\/a>, despair and tears you might expect of someone <\/strong>given a terminal diagnosis, I was nothing but <\/strong>calm. Shocked, but calm.<\/p>\n

The reason for that, <\/strong>as it turns out, is because of one simple fact: <\/strong>I\u2019m not actually <\/strong>scared of death.<\/p>\n

In fact, I don\u2019t see it as something to fear so much as it is <\/strong>something to acknowledge. A quiet reminder that life is precious precisely because it ends.<\/p>\n

I haven\u2019t always felt this way, of course. <\/strong>Growing up, my relationship with death was fleeting and intermittent at best and my first real<\/em> encounter with it <\/strong>was when <\/strong>my beloved tabby cat<\/a>, Tiger Lily, died when I was 12.<\/p>\n

I was just at the stage when I understood that death was permanent, and I remember really feeling her loss deeply. I was allowed a day off school<\/a>, a rare occurrence, and I cried all day. <\/p>\n

I missed stroking her as she sat on my lap, a place she\u2019d often be, but I was resigned to it. She had been ill, and so she died. It was the natural progression of things.<\/p>\n

Then, <\/strong>when I was around 15, I suffered <\/strong>my first family bereavement<\/a> \u2013 my grandmother, who <\/strong>I had lots of happy memories of baking with, <\/strong>died at the age of 83.<\/p>\n

Her death was <\/strong>sudden <\/strong>so, of course, <\/strong>it was sad. However, as <\/strong>we were not overly emotional as a family, there was no dramatic weeping and wailing, just a quiet sadness for a life that was lost too soon.<\/p>\n

And <\/strong>other than these occasions, death wasn\u2019t a topic of conversation in my family. <\/p>\n

\n
\n\t\t\"\"\t<\/div>
I began to shape my own view of death \u2013 mainly that <\/strong>I didn\u2019t believe in an afterlife (Picture: Vicki Head)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

It wasn\u2019t that it was taboo, just that the subject rarely came up. We had elderly relatives and friends of the family who had died, and funerals<\/a> were attended, but I don\u2019t remember any time when normal life stopped because of it.<\/p>\n

As I grew older though, I began to shape my own view of the subject, mainly that <\/strong>I didn\u2019t believe in an afterlife.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s not that I\u2019m not religious \u2013 when my children were young, I spent a short <\/strong>time attending church, as I lived in a small village and the church was the hub of the community <\/em>\u2013 but I\u2019ve just never been convinced that we go somewhere when we die.<\/p>\n

Sure, sending butterflies and robins as a sign is all very comforting, but it\u2019s also <\/strong>a bit random.<\/p>\n

\n
\n\t\t\"(Picture:\t<\/div>
I believe that death will be just like going to sleep \u2013 I won\u2019t know it\u2019s happened (Picture: Vicki Head)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

And <\/strong>if ghosts really were a thing, I\u2019m sure we have more evidence than a few dodgy photos and the occasional unexplained cold breeze that \u2018came from nowhere\u2019.<\/p>\n

This realisation reaffirmed my belief that death will be just like going to sleep. I won\u2019t know it\u2019s happened, and so I\u2019ll be none the wiser. I won\u2019t be going anywhere after I die, so there will be no regrets, no missing anyone, no wondering if I\u2019ll see anyone again.<\/p>\n

However, <\/strong>I\u2019m not so held in my beliefs that I\u2019d be cross if I was proven wrong.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d love to find out, when I finally die, that there is a fabulously peaceful place we all go to. And if I was able to return in the form of a Red Admiral or Cabbage White butterfly to give my loved ones a sign that all is well, I\u2019d jump at the chance. <\/p>\n

Of course, I never expected I might find out sooner than most.<\/p>\n

\n
\n\t\t\"\"\t<\/div>
When Annie was diagnosed, there was <\/strong>no drama, no panic, just calm acceptance (Picture: Vicki Head)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

On 2 July 2024, two months after finding a lump on my breast<\/a>, and endless tests and scans, my <\/strong>oncologist told me my cancer was incurable.<\/p>\n

\u2018The cancer has gone to your bones and I can\u2019t cure it,\u2019 he said calmly and carefully, giving me time to process.<\/p>\n

My initial reaction was one of <\/strong>shock, not just for the diagnosis but that, actually, I <\/strong>wasn\u2019t worried.<\/p>\n

There was <\/strong>no drama, no panic, just calm acceptance. And, after <\/strong>a few days,<\/strong> I realised that all I could do was take the treatment offered, and just get on with making what\u2019s left of <\/strong>my life count. <\/p>\n

I\u2019m <\/strong>not wasting any more time and instead I\u2019m focusing on <\/strong>doing all the things I\u2019ve always wanted to do: Travelling, going back onto the stage, and becoming a TV extra being just a few.<\/p>\n

\n

\n\t\t\t\tWant to learn more?\t\t\t<\/h2>\n
\n

You can find out more about Annie\u2019s charity, The Chronicles of Hope, here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/p><\/div>\n

I\u2019m also <\/strong>happy to talk about my diagnosis, and death, which has led to a number of unusual conversations of late.<\/p>\n

Following my diagnosis, I had a conversation with <\/strong>one friend who is terrified of death \u2013 so much so, she\u2019s had to have therapy \u2013 she<\/em> told me that the thought of not being in the world, just not existing, is what frightens her the most.<\/p>\n

I asked her: \u2018But surely, if you\u2019re dead, you won\u2019t know?\u2019 This, she said, was the problem. Not knowing. Not being conscious.<\/p>\n

I understand her fear, but don\u2019t align with it. How can we be worried about not knowing, if we are not conscious?<\/p>\n

Then, <\/strong>last month, I attended my aunt\u2019s funeral. The day <\/strong>was full of memories, sadness and laughs, but I did not at any stage during the service worry that \u2018this will be me soon\u2019.<\/p>\n

\n
\n\t\t\"Annie\t<\/div>
I\u2019m convinced that if we talked about death more as a society, we\u2019d remove some of the fear (Picture: Vicki Head)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

In fact, I found myself picking up some ideas for my own funeral, like photo slide shows, handing out roses and the sharing of memories, which were the loveliest parts of the service.<\/em><\/p>\n

I\u2019ve also <\/strong>made no secret of the fact that I don\u2019t like euphemisms \u2013 \u2018no longer with us\u2019, \u2018gone to a better place\u2019 and the worst one\u2026\u2018passed\u2019. I can\u2019t bear the pussyfooting about and wish people would realise <\/strong>you can say the word \u2018died\u2019 with compassion. That it is possible to explain that someone is \u2018dead\u2019 with sympathy.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve given death a lot of thought over the last 18 months, so <\/strong>perhaps I\u2019m more laidback about the subject <\/strong>because of that. But <\/strong>I\u2019m convinced that if we talked about death more as a society, discussed <\/strong>it with friends and family, even joked about it, we\u2019d remove some of the fear.<\/p>\n

Perhaps if we were more open about it, and understood what death really means to us, there would be many more purposeful people in the world wanting to make the time they have on earth really count.<\/p>\n

Because death is the one certainty in life. It will happen to all of us and in learning to face that truth, we give ourselves permission to live more fully, love more deeply, and let go a little easier.<\/p>\n

Do you have a story you\u2019d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Ross.Mccafferty@metro.co.uk<\/a>.<\/a>\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Share your views in the comments below.<\/strong><\/p>\n


\n\t\t\tComment now<\/title><\/span><br \/>\n\t\t\t<span class=\"share-bar-comments__label\">Comments<\/span><br \/>\n\t\t<\/a><a class=\"metro-button share-bar-preferred-source\" data-vars-position=\"bottom\" href=\"https:\/\/google.com\/preferences\/source?q=https:\/\/metro.co.uk\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><br \/>\n\t\t\t\t<span><title>Add Metro as a Preferred Source on Google<\/title><\/span><br \/>\n\t\t\t\t<span class=\"share-bar-preferred-source__label\">Add as preferred source<\/span><br \/>\n\t\t\t<\/a><\/section>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>I don\u2019t see death as something to fear so much as it is something to acknowledge (Picture: Vicki Head) When I was diagnosed with incurable cancer in July last year, I was surprised by my reaction. Instead of the panic, despair and tears you might expect of someone given a terminal diagnosis, I was nothing […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":10456,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[9],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10454"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=10454"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10454\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10462,"href":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10454\/revisions\/10462"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/10456"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=10454"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=10454"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=10454"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}