So, going on a long holiday in the middle of cancer treatment is a little like leaving the washing up at a family event. You know it’s still there, everyone else knows you have it to do, yet you try laughing raucously at a very tame game of Scrabble in the hope that this will distract everyone, including yourself, for long enough to let it go. Or you hope Auntie Brenda will just do it instead (“It’s only a few plates” – you imagine her saying with a warm smile ‘”Let the youngsters have fun”).

It doesn’t work. Brenda is too frail now to stand for long enough and her arthritis makes drying a tough job; plus you are 42. There is no getting out of it unless you feel like buying your relative a dishwasher with immediate delivery (which does actually cross your mind until you snap out of it and realise that no matter how good online shopping has become, you’ve just found the one thing that still takes 14 days to arrive).

When did your life become so serious?

Even my oncologist was at pains to emphasise yesterday (in the middle of ‘how long have the drugs not been in the fridge-gate’) that I need to see here again before I have more drugs in three weeks time. She’s very nice so that’s fine with me but it reminded me that it really is impossible to escape and that is probably a very good thing.

I imagine it’s a bit like the Back to School vibe for most of you. It is creeping up on you, that gradual realisation that you (or your children) have to go back. No more lie-ins and evenings filled with homework instead of ‘gramming or having fun with friends.

I remember equating school with prison – I have always had dramatic leanings – when I realised that you couldn’t opt out until 16. I was horrified. Surely this was against all Human Rights Laws. I am certain I will have looked it up. They gave you official breaks and short of being sick, which as as kid I rarely was, that was it. To be fair though, I actually liked the structure, the social interaction (even though it was often bullying) and the learning, oh the learning. Not much has changed. I definitely spend much more time on my own (maybe reduces the bullying?) but as you see, I find ways around that by saying I won’t write again for days and then just writing again. On my own but not really alone.

There is something to be said too for being caught up in a system or a ‘trap’ as we like to call it when it feels overwhelming. Tempting though it is to be free of constraints (and these can be people and animals as well as work or school), it is exactly those constraints that make free time so enticing, that give us something to share or talk about. We enjoy holidays because they are exactly that. I know I am always eager to get back to work, whether real work or this self-created nonsense, which I am rather starting to enjoy. It does emphasise the importance of doing something that you love though. I didn’t always look forward to going back to work, I like structure but do like a fair amount of freedom to work within and have to be passionate about what I am doing otherwise I just won’t do it. That’s the key.

Am I passionate about cancer treatment? No. Obviously not, but there’s no way I’m opting out. I know this might get worse but hope (and this will be a daily hope forever more) that it will never return but whatever happens, I shall continue to do what is necessary to keep being here. I shall do that washing up, if you will (and I know I’ve stretched this metaphor to within an inch of its life) and gladly. Then I can play Scrabble with a clear conscience and the same slim chance of winning as everyone else. Those are not bad odds after all.