David's wife, Abby, was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma in October and has just started chemotherapy. We know that as part of her treatment she will lose her hair, so we have all decided to shave ours off in solidarity with her. 

Here's Abby's story:

When I found a lump in my neck at the end of July, I thought it was a bit odd and made an appointment to see my GP to get it checked out. He didn’t seem too concerned – he thought it was likely to be a cyst and said that I shouldn’t worry about it, but referred me for some tests to put my mind at rest.

I didn’t think too much more about it until I went for an ultrasound and the radiographer told me the lump was definitely not a cyst and looked ‘unusual’. This was a term I’d hear a lot over the next few weeks. After a call from my GP to tell me ‘it could be something, it could be nothing’ and a lot of googling, I spent the next few weeks in a yo-yoing state of fear and hope as I anxiously went for tests and waited for results.

Then, on the 9^th October, one week before my 34^th birthday, I had the news that no one wants to hear. It’s cancer. 

How can I have cancer? Apart from the lump, I still have no other symptoms. Walking into the cancer centre for the first time three days later; that was when it really, properly, hit me. I was terrified and had no clear idea of what my diagnosis meant, or what would happen next. At that moment – feeling overwhelmed, scared, very emotional – I met my Macmillan nurses. Working for Macmillan, I already knew that the support we provide to people with cancer is incredible, and I’ve heard lots of stories about the difference that Macmillan makes to people. But it takes on a whole new meaning when you experience it yourself.

My nurses were so calm, so friendly, so reassuring that I started to feel hopeful. They had a busy case load (I’d been squeezed in at the last minute as an urgent referral and hadn’t been expected) but they took the time to listen to me, answering all of my questions and making me feel they had as much time for me as I needed. They helped me to understand my diagnosis and what that meant for me and in doing so helped me to retake some control of the situation. Since then they, and the other staff and volunteers at the Macmillan Butterfly Centre in Epsom, have been amazing.

I know everyone is sorry to hear that I’m going through this. It’s something I’ve heard a lot. But please don’t tell me you’re sorry. Every time I hear it, I feel a little more helpless, a little more powerless. It reminds me that there’s something to be sorry for. I feel fortunate that, for me, the prognosis is good – my cancer has been caught at an early stage and it should be very curable. Let’s focus on that, this is a temporary blip.

And, for every time someone’s told me they’re sorry, it’s come with offers of help, love, support and the knowledge that David and I aren’t facing this on our own – and the way everyone has rallied round us has helped me to realise that I’ve never been stronger, more loved or more supported than I am right now. I’m ready to face whatever the next few months throw my way.

Thank you to all of you, I feel incredibly lucky to have such wonderful friends, colleagues and family. Most of all, I’m grateful to have such a kind and loving husband. David, I can’t find my own words, so to borrow Lao Tzu’s – being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. You show me every day and in so many ways how much you love me, and I know that we’ll get through this, together, and we’ll be stronger for it. You truly are the Riker to my Picard. We both thought you’d be the one to go bald but life has a way of surprising you!

So, I've started treatment and I'm on the road to getting better. And, now, David and some of our close friends are Braving the Shave in solidarity with me. Together we’ll baldly go where no one has gone before (well, not me anyway). I’m so touched that they are doing this for me and I’m proud that, in doing so, they'll help give other people the same support I've had by raising money for Macmillan – a charity that has always meant a lot to me, and even more so now.