Two and a half years of chemotherapy
In May 2011 my daughter Molly, aged eight, was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin Lymphoma, a type of blood cancer.
Over the next two and a half years she received almost daily chemotherapy, had lumbar punctures, blood transfusions, Hickman lines and a Portacath inserted and removed. And she took more pills than you could shake a stick at.
She puked constantly, lost her hair, regrew it, lost it again, puked some more and grew her hair back. On a number of occasions, it felt like the chemo was doing her more damage than the cancer. But on September 20 2013 her treatment ended.
Touch wood, it has all gone very well. And apart from the appalling physical side effects and total mental trauma, it was a breeze. Now we just wait to see if it comes back. Cancer is all about the waiting.