Mel O'Neill is a mum of two from Penketh and has been writing about her experiences living with breast cancer for more than a decade

I need to make writing a habit again.

I promised myself to blog through my feelings now that the cancer is on the prowl again but I’ve either been too busy burning the candle at both ends or suffering from the side effects of my first round of chemo in nearly 4 years.

So feeling much more like myself today and with a few days of rest up ahead as we venture to Anglesey with some great friends of ours Jo and Ian, we’ll be enjoying breathing in the sea air, long walks and cosy nights filled with laughter as we reside in their beautiful static caravan. 

My first chemo session was on Monday, September having just had the most incredible time away. First was a weekend in Birmingham with Tropic who I am now an ambassador for, being recognised on stage as having the 4th best personal sales in the country out of thousands.

Not bad for a girl who can barely see being partially slighted, with no driving licence but having many years of knowledge under her belt having worked in the makeup and skincare industry for over 25 years.

That, and a passion, combined with a huge desire to make people look and feel better about themselves has taken a priority over my day to day life. Everything else has taken a backseat as I dedicate the majority of my time to what I love most.

Following the Tropic Glammie event (as it’s called as we all look and are made to feel very glamorous) I whisked myself off to spend a few days in London with my sister-in-law Laura and what a treat that was!

(Image: Mel in London)

From being special guests at The London Tower’s Ceremony of the Keys, to spa time and afternoon tea at the Ritz and not to mention accidentally watching Joel Dommett for just £3 at a small intimate comedy club we stumbled across on our last evening topped the week off tremendously as we laughed till our belly’s hurt all the way back to the hotel.

Home on a Thursday, bloods taken on the Saturday and treatment coursing through my veins on the following Monday. Back down to earth with a bump.

I suppose the higher we fly the lower we feel as side effects kick in and for me it was 3 days later when my lymphedema arm revealed a nasty infection as it turned bright red, burning hot and sore to touch. Luckily my temperature didn’t spike as I had “just in case” antibiotics prescribed for this in my draw.

The following day I cancelled an online makeup lesson I was booked to give after I’d given a facial. I just didn’t have the energy, so I reluctantly rearranged and spent the entire day in bed falling in and out of sleep, something I feel my body was craving.

But with the tiredness also came the sadness and the reality of what my life will now be like as I navigate it with cancer. After watching Kris Hallenga’s documentary on Tuesday, I mentally prepared myself for tears, but the joy she was able to fill her life with from setting up Coppafeel and teaching thousands of younger woman the importance of checking their boobs as she was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer at just 23 was a reflection of my life (although I’ve not done anything as remarkable as her).

Although I have raised awareness of the rare form of Breast cancer called Inflammatory. I have vlogged and blogged about inflammatory breast cancer but the bit I related to most was when she said “I wouldn’t be living this amazing life if it wasn’t for cancer” something that I say often and it was then that I cried. Tears were shed as I related to her joy of life. I may not be a twin sister (like she was) but I am so so close to my daughters who are my rocks and who understand and “get it”.

So much so my youngest yesterday portrayed a lyrical dance at her college.

Choreographed by herself, I was invited to watch as I cried so hard before, during and after her performance it was so moving. It was about me spending the majority of the last 13 years in a waiting room, shielding my children from the mental torture I was enduring so I could keep normality in their lives. Although many reading this may not appreciate the importance of being able to tell a story through dance, it was so moving for many of us who are affected by cancer, waiting rooms, hair loss (as she removes her wig) and tears.

Darcey cries with the powerful emotional performance as she continues portraying my baldness through her own tears.

So now as I emerge from the side effects and my mentality is slightly lighter, I’ll go and finish my packing as I have a caravan weekend to go to where more tears will be shed, only this time it’ll be from laughing.