This is a letter for the two ladies that  had just seen Adele at Wembley Stadium (28/6) and were in the queue for the 10.54, platform 5 train at Wembley Central. The train was going in the direction of Milton Keynes. 

I discreetly spoke to a member of staff at the station to explain to them that I would struggle to stand in the (very long) queue that had been formed outside because I have secondary breast cancer. I also told her that I have a card that proves my disability for moments just like this. 

The member of staff was happy to let myself, my daughter and my daughters friend, jump in to the front of the queue – just in front of where you were standing. You however, weren’t so happy. 

You’re lucky that I didn’t hear what you said. You’re lucky because I would have turned around and educated you on exactly what secondary breast cancer is. 

Your ignorant comment and I quote “it’s only breast cancer, it’s not in your legs” has infuriated me and I mean really infuriated me – I’m spitting feathers!! I’ve got home and instead of crawling into my bed to recover from my night out, I’m penning this letter to you. 

For your information, my ‘breast cancer’ is in my legs. In fact it’s in every single bone in my body. So when I explained to the staff member that I would struggle to stand, I wasn’t making it up!! 

I’m not sure who you are or which medical school you were trained at but you need to do some homework – I’ve added a link to help –Secondary breast cancer is also known as metastatic breast cancer. It’s the worst one you can get – stage 4. 

How dare you judge me. I know you thought I was pulling a fast one. People like you are the reason I carry ‘proof’ of my illness. People like you disgust me. 

Keeping up appearances. 

People ask me how I am and I always reply ‘I’m good thanks’. They always say ‘you’re looking really well’ to which I reply, ‘thanks’. It’s like a default setting. It’s easier than explaining how I really feel. 

I’m struggling at the moment. I’m tired of the past 3 years, the hospital visits, treatment, scans – there’s only so much you can take and I think I’m at my limit.

 I’ve never felt like this before. Don’t get me wrong, I have times when I feel down in the dumps but these generally pass after a few days, sometimes weeks. 

This time I feel different. Inwardly I am just so sad. I’m exhausted. I’ve had enough. But, I’m going through the motions of normality for the kids. They need me to hold it together. They are none the wiser. I’m keeping up appearances.