I’m sitting here in my chair, admiring the nails I’ve just had done and their gorgeous purple hue.
I’ve got some purple stocks gracing a vase and some Sweet William to add to it with the most violet petals.
I’ve planned my purple outfit and in my head are the words I’ll put as Facebook statuses and tweets.

Tuesday the 20th May will be the day when I see my fabulous Bart’s team again for my 15-month check.

15 months??? How is that possible? I very nearly forgot this appointment. We went to book a holiday and it popped up in my calendar. Although it’s never really far from my mind, I am beginning to let it go and not dominate my life as much anymore.

I’ve had a few people ask why I like people to show me there purple clothes every 3 months; the truth is I can’t really remember how is started, I think it was a tweet about being part of an army when I started my treatment and it just gathered from there. And now I ask people to do it because it brings me comfort. For one day every 3 months, I get people send me messages, tweets, Facebook pictures and emails with all the creative ways they can conjure up purple for me. From babies in handbags to lilac badges to purple knickers. Yes I have had several underwear photos sent to me. All done tastefully of course.

It makes no sense and the cynical realist I have become knows it doesn’t really mean anything to any tests that I have, or , to the outcome of that little appointment that I have on Tuesday.

But for a few hours every 3 months, I have a group of people (#purplearmy #fransarmy) who are willing to let me know they are thinking of me and support me. In all seriousness, it’s those few hours that help me forget the build up of tension and anxiety each appointment brings.

It’s my army who get me through.

And I want to thank you all for doing it in the most imaginative ways possible!

I love you all.

Send your prayers, if you pray.
Send your good thoughts and vibes, if you have them.
Send your love, luck and hugs.
And send your pictures of you in purple.
That gesture alone is worth so much to me.

Totes wanting to show off my tiny tan I have…




There is a lady I would like you to meet…

Ladies and Gents, I give you Dr Powell (or The Amazing One as I like to call her).


Excuse my tear stained face, but she had just announced that my MRI was ALL CLEAR!
Making it one year cervical cancer free.

*wibbly lip*

We then got chatting about the blog and raising awareness and to hear how proud Dr Powell was that I was doing this, just made me realise how important this message we all need to spread really is.

As ever, my purple army really stepped up a gear and really made me feel supported and loved with all the pictures and banter that everyone shared. We managed to change timelines to purple lines again and I couldn’t be more proud and overwhelmed.

If it’s made one woman get a smear test that she’s been putting off or go to the doctors or got a man to have an awkward chat, then our work is in progress.

I love you all.

One year. Tick.


I’ve been working at the firm I am currently in for the last 12 months and two weeks ago I was asked to join another team in my department as
1. My role was ceasing
2. I had really proved myself in these last 12 months and thought I could handle this new job.

Woo hoo!

All very good but it’s still a temp role which is financially crippling but the hours are good and at the end of the day, it’s paying (just) my bills and keeps Jim Jam in biscuits.
I get reviews every 3 months but essentially the job is for a year.

After my wonderful prognosis last week, I was both euphoric and daunted at the same time.

The feeling of euphoria is fast fading.

My life is now basically on a temp contract. I get reviewed every 3 months, but I’m hoping that the contract gets extended to more than a year.

I want to so badly just let myself revel in this joy. I still don’t quite believe the outcome.

I used to be such a dreamer; an eternal optimist. I would see the good In all situations. Even when I was diagnosed with Cancer, I took it as an opportunity to try out a new hair style.

But along with taking my ability to have children, it seems as though cancer has taken some of my spirit too.

I don’t think I’ll ever fully let myself celebrate until perhaps at the magic 5 year mark.

So, I have a new temp job and a new temp life.
Lets hope both bosses like me.