Avoiding London Underground keeps me alive – I never thought I’d see this birthday | UK | News

Various health complaints meant I never expected to live to see my sixteenth birthday, and when I was diagnosed with incurable bowel cancer two years ago I wondered if I would ever see it. But as of this writing, all signs are looking good for me to celebrate my 46th birthday, as long as I don’t get stabbed on my way home. I’ll spend part of this working on the Daily Express’ Cancer Care campaign and the rest wondering whether my colleagues like the scones I’ve bought for pleasure and enjoyment. I hope so, because I used to spend as much time choosing frosted treats as I did swiping on Tinder.

As I browsed through her photos online, I felt like a ruthless dater who was too picky to swipe right. I wondered which ones were too sticky, which were too sickly, which were too squishy and looked nothing like the photos. I wondered if the one with the orange face and triangular eyes was the goalkeeper or if the one called Maple Pecan Pie was a safer bet. I wondered how many people would ask me if their picks contained nuts.

This year I’m sure no one is asking me that crazy question because for the first time in my life since I first brought a cake into an office on my birthday, I won’t be there. (Last year I didn’t even consider this as an option.)

I won’t be there because I’m pursuing a special story about Peru with Paddington. I won’t be there because I’m kayaking down a river in some exotic place where there are rapids. I won’t be there because I wandered around the best sandwich shops in the world and arrived in Latvia.

I won’t be there to enjoy the Dunkin’ Donuts people because when I was diagnosed with stage four cancer in the summer of 2023, I was told not to take the tube or go to offices in London. It is thought that this is due to the risk of infection in closed areas.

And unfortunately they don’t understand that they need to take a day off for my birthday because the calendar doesn’t mean much in terms of infections.

I haven’t been in the Daily Express newsroom to work since I started chemotherapy, so I’ve had to imagine what kind of scones my colleagues, most of whom I haven’t met, would enjoy.

I joke that having cancer is my second job, and unfortunately, truth be told, I know more about the nurses at my cancer hospital than my colleagues who write the fantastic stories you read on this website.

Just like I know which ones like tuna mayonnaise on a jacket potato and which energy drink flavors they prefer, I think I’ll be a pretty good judge of which nurse will plump for the traditional jelly donut and which one would prefer hers to resemble the Rocky Road treat.

So I had to imagine what kind of donuts my colleagues would like and whether they would understand that Dunkin’ Donuts is much better than Krispy Kreme.

I had to pause the thought of advancing my career to the level of an outstanding journalist.

And I realized that if I was truly going to fight cancer, I had to stop looking at how things used to be.

It’s not easy, but I try to remember how far I’ve come. I know I don’t have decades to live, but I also know I won’t die until the Daily Express reaches its Cancer Care campaign target to ensure all cancer patients have mental health support both during and after treatment.