I am thrilled to announce that my graphic memoir is now available to pre-order in the UK (USA publication is scheduled for 18 November).
Why is the title “This Might Surprise You”? Because - in short - I’ve found everything about cancer, and its treatment, to be surprising.
Before my diagnosis I was incredibly ignorant about cancer, despite having had family members go through it. I assumed that usually you lose your hair, you feel sick, and then you die, more or less immediately.
I did lose my hair. I did feel sick. I didn’t die: I was fortunate in that my diagnosis was primary breast cancer i.e. it had not spread beyond my breast. As far as we know (and I’m being monitored), I no longer have cancer.
But when I found the lump in my breast, aged 37, I thought: “I’m too young for cancer.”
Spoiler: I was surprised.
The hair loss and the nausea are true but there’s so much more that I didn’t know about, and couldn’t have. Unless it’s happening to you, or a loved one whose care you’re very closely involved with, you really have no idea, unless you go and seek out this information. And who does that? No-one wants to think about cancer. Believe me, I didn’t, but I was forced to.
But it’s not all bad, and this was surprising, too. Yes, the way that healthcare systems function can be frustrating. Yes, I was traumatised. But I also encountered kindness and moments of beauty that will stay with me for the rest of my life. And I think that this experience of hardship has expanded my ability to empathise with many more people.
I really hope my book will be a friend to anyone going through cancer treatment. It’s the kind of book that I wish had been around for me. There was plenty of information available, but I didn’t want information: the amount I was getting from my medical team was already overwhelming me. I wanted a book that was funny and hopeful, while also being honest about the pain and fear. I’ve sought to walk a fine line between dark and light; between fear and hope.
So many of us end up being affected by cancer, either in ourselves or in someone we care about. Probably most of us. So: I want you to feel seen in my work. I want it to help you explain things to friends and family. I want you to understand that doctors and nurses aren’t heroes or saints, but kind, hard-working, flawed human beings. I want policymakers to understand the human cost of systems that are built for clinicians first and patients second.
Chemotherapy, radiotherapy and surgery treated my cancer, but human connection is what healed me. This is the message of my book.