Did you know, breast cancer is the most common cancer in the UK? One in nine women are affected during their lifetime and if you didn’t know one before. You do now.

This is my little story. It’s a simple and hopefully happy one. It is not something I am worried about, and not something you need to be worried about either. If anything, it’s a quick reminder that knowing your body and responding to its changes saves lives. And so does the NHS.

The lump
A few months ago I discovered a lump in my breast. I pointed it out to a partner who agreed he could feel something. I mentally noted it and kept an eye on it. Over the next few weeks, and on into the second month, I concluded that, though the rest of my breast tissue was changing with my menstrual cycle, the lump was an ongoing feature.

The diagnosis
So I saw my GP who, after a quick physical exam, referred me to hospital. Though cancer is extremely unlikely in women of my age, I was referred as urgent and seen within 2 weeks. At hospital I was received by a nurse who did a slightly more comprehensive physical examination and, when she also felt the lump, sent me immediately for an ultrasound. The ultrasound confirmed that the lump was not fluid filled and recommended I be referred for a biopsy. I had a biopsy, a simple and quick procedure under local anesthetic, that two weeks later came back inconclusive. I returned for a second biopsy which was referred to a specialist and, after another couple of weeks, I was contacted with the information that the biopsy had confirmed the lump as pre-cancerous.

When is a cancer termed pre-cancerous?
Pre-cancerous breast tumors contain cancer cells that proliferate out of control but have not yet developed the ability to invade into other tissues, that being the frightening aspect of a (fully?) cancerous tumor.

Pre-cancerous lumps of the breast can, depending on the placement, usually be removed without the need for anything more complex than an excision biopsy. Mine is one of these simple cases. In fact, mine was caught so early that I can’t even have the lumpectomy yet as the tumor is still defining its edges and to operate too quickly would, at best, likely result in the need for another operation later down the line and, at worst, aggravate the out of control cells making the condition worse.

Where do we go from here?
We wait :) I am on 6-weekly screenings and as soon as it becomes a more clearly defined mass, we’re going to take it out. The operation is a minor one (I’ve done nearly as much to myself in the name of boredom, depression or art!) and I probably wont even have to have radiation therapy.

Why am I telling you this?
Why not? You may very well be another one of the 1/9, you might not have given your body any attention recently, you might have found a lump, and are ignoring it, because it’s scary or because you don’t realise how simply and efficiently your life could be preserved. You might have forgotten why the NHS is one of the most important aspects of the social contract we make with government, perhaps you took it for granted, or you might have forgotten to vote with that in mind, to petition, or rage as if our lives depended on it.. because they likely do.

For many of us, Cancer is no longer the enemy. The enemies are our lack of embodiment, our fear of mortality and the Conservative Government. Make friends with your body. Accept that ignoring your death will only make it arrive sooner, and get these [other c-word]s out of power.

A. x

Co-compiled by my lovely Facebook and Twitter followers. I present:
The Non-Monogamy Interview Drinking Game!

The rules are very simple. Tune in at 7pm with a good supply of your chosen beverage.
Drink once every time someone mentions:

☐ The inevitable coercion of women

☐ Full House: Down the bottle if I get all 10.

*no I Will Not link to it, go Google it if you foolishly persist in giving them ad revenue

Course bottlenecks, queues for the loo, running back a few metres to take this picture(!) (and pausing to text it..) walking through each water and gel station, and stopping to exchange regular hugs and chats with Jon, Lori, Bekki & Amanda whom I saw on the way meant I finished around 72 minutes after my original (pre-injury) goal time of 4:50 – and didn’t care one bit!

Was it all sunshine and smiles? Well, no. But neither was it as bad as I’d imagined. Here’s a rough breakdown by stage..

Miles 1 & 2
To begin with I was just glad to be on the move. I’d amassed a fair amount of pent up energy waiting my 40 mins to cross the start line and it felt good to stretch my legs and start covering ground. For the first 10 or 15 mins I was distracted by other runners, costumes, and the dawning realisation I was actually running a #MotherFrackingMarathon and would likely be running for the next 5 or 6 hours. I kept trying to slow myself down, aware that mile-22-Manda would be thankful that mile-2-Manda had swallowed her ego and let so many runners overtake her.

Miles 2 – 5
To be honest I struggled to re-find my stride after so much time off, and there were a few places between Miles 2 and 5 that I misjudged and had to walk for 30-60 seconds unplanned. I began to notice the heat and got thirsty a while before the first water station. I also started to be irritated by the small things about my kit. I made minor adjustments to my shoes, bum bag, bra, hair and headphones.

Miles 6 – 10
Around the 10k mark the runners started to separate. Pretty much everyone was into their stride by then, relaxed and attentive to their surroundings. Personally I became aware that I was recognising the people around me and runners in pairs had broken into easy chatter.
Just after mile 6 promised the first planned rendezvous with my personal cheerleading squad and I approached every corner eagerly scanning the barriers for bright red hair or tweed and ray bans :) Stocked up on hugs and whispers of encouragement, fresher for a few minutes standing still, I set off again smiling and at good pace. It didn’t last though, around mile 7 I had my first panic point. I was tired. I was tired and it was only mile 7! I’d been passed by a man in a bagpuss costume, and I needed a wee. I broke out the first of my horrible, but really useful, energy gels and washed the synthetic saccharine flavour down with the remainder of my water. By mile 8 I’d temporarily banished the panic, I’d realised I was almost a third through, I put my headphones on, listened to one of my pre-recorded messages from Topper & Lori and concentrated on getting to 10 miles…

Miles 10 – 12
A little past the 10 mile mark, around 2.5hrs in, it occurred to me that I might actually do this. I might, despite everything, despite all those who care about me (quite rightly!) suggesting I stand down from this challenge, I might actually complete the marathon. I felt better than I had during the TW Half, and the thought of running the same distance again didn’t seem impossible.
I took my headphones out and shouted replies to the crowd, I ‘high fived’ rows of kids lining the pavements to watch, I felt like I finally ‘got’ that atmosphere that makes the London Marathon amazing. Strangers in residential flats had set up huge PA systems on their balconies and were blaring out music and cheering us on, pubs had live singers, street corners had brass bands, groups gathered to share sweets, fruit & energy bars with flagging runners. The only thing that dulled the buzz was that I’d lost* my name tag early on and so I never made the shout-outs. I did, however, run for a while next to a man in a panda costume, and pretended the crowds were shouting “Manda” instead of “panda” :)

Mile 12 – 15
My second rendezvous with Jon & Lori, just before mile 13, saw the mood of everyone’s day change. I don’t think it’s unfair to say that waiting for me to come over Tower Bridge was the most stressful part of their task supporting me. The Half I ran in training was miserable, I finished miserable and couldn’t have done a second lap.
Perhaps they, like me, expected this to be the point I bailed; citing injury, or claiming any one of a dozen completely legitimate excuses for retiring. However, I’d decided I was going to finish by this point. Any possibility otherwise had erased itself from the universe. I spotted them easily, weaved across the track, and threw my arms over the barrier to hug them. In a tired and astonished voice, I told them I was going to finish it. And they believed me.

The first step beyond the half way point I told myself it was closer to the finish line than the start and there was no going back. There was, of course, and miles 13-15 saw the first set of injured and exhausted runners start to appear. Wrapped in foil blankets, faces streaked with tears, frustration and disappointment, I didn’t want to look at them. Didn’t want to consider how that would feel, or what I’d've said if I wasn’t going to make it round.

Miles 15 – 20
All my lowest moments occurred in this 5 mile block. The elation of breaking my personal record for distance faded. The route diverted round the Isle of Dogs near industrial estates, under bridges and through fewer crowds. I felt like I was burning and whilst water, vaseline and encouragement were plentiful – sunscreen was not. I started to notice pains that affected my gait, my back ached, my muscles had started to sieze, I began to feel blisters forming and I had to stop a number of times to stretch out simply to keep moving. It was lunchtime, I consumed a couple of gels in short succession.

Somewhere around mile 17 I started to spontaneously cry reading the dedications on the back of other peoples’ running shirts. I thought about those I loved that weren’t here to support me today – due to distance and death. In short, I sulked. I picked off miles 18 and 19 painfully, slowly, and painfully slowly

Miles 20 – 22
Mile 20 gave me an artificial high as somehow I’d gotten it into my tired brain that I was running 24 miles, not 26! Still, by the time I realised and recalculated it was nearly mile 21 and we were heading back into central London and back towards my much yearned for cheerleaders..

Miles 22 – 23
I’d arranged to meet Jon and Lori one final time around mile 22 and was concentrating on a run/walk strategy of 5:1 to get me there. I’d been ignoring my name as it wasn’t being called for me since the name tag was discarded, so I barely heard Bekki (from the FPA) calling me! Bemused I saw the balloons and wandered over, I don’t remember what I said but I know the hugs and smiles I got from her saw me through to just before mile 23 where Jon and Lori had managed to find a space. I stopped for a while to talk to them, struggled not to have a little cry, but stocked up on a few words of encouragement and headed back out onto the course, knowing the next time I saw them I’d have done it!

Miles 23 – 26
The final few miles were amazing and dreadful all at once. The sun and the early start had resulted in the inevitable over-indulgence of a few and in patches the crowd was drunk and calling out at the slower or larger runners. I turned up my music and tried to ignore them and take in the scenery. I fixed my eyes on the clock tower and exchanged weary smiles with faster runners walking back from the finish line in foil blankets; nods of camaraderie and respect.

I overtook 307 people in the last 7k so I’m guessing my slow start strategy worked. I actually had some energy left at the finish line, and briefly pondered as to whether I could have been less gentle on myself. It likely wasn’t worth the risk to my knee, though.

I ran the final 800 metres with a smile on my face looking out over my beautiful London – my marathon, my ridiculous self-challenge, about to become another nail in the coffin of my shrinking self-loathing.

Verdict
Will I do it again? Probably not. But it’ll sit there in my mental reserve, alongside the other brave, difficult and ill advised things I’ve done to steel me when I doubt myself and soothe me when I feel inconsequential.
Am I glad I did it? Beyond measure. My feet are still raw, my legs still stiff, and I’ve been asked not to share the pictures of my various ailments.. but yes, very glad.

Finally…
For so many reasons, I could not have done this without the love, encouragement and grounding of Jon & Lori. I couldn’t begin to list the ways they have supported me in this. As with all things, they make me the best version of myself. Thanks, guys. xx

Jealousy? Well, no, I’ve been jealous of monogamous partners spending lots of time at work, with their friends, or on a hobby..

Time? Well… no, the example above was really only ever about the division of time.

Sexual health? Again, no. Whether you’re single and dating, monogamous, or polyamorous unless you are celibate – sexual health, like ALL health, is an ongoing issue we should be proactive in looking after..

Relationships ending? Not unique. Sadly, sometimes people grow apart. They want different things, or were maybe never all that compatible in the first place. People who claim polyamory is unstable haven’t clocked the divorce statistics recently. Poly isn’t unstable relationships are..

Prejudice? Sadly not. Many relationships have features that lead well meaning (and not so well meaning) people to feel they should judge, dismiss or ‘warn’ the participants against them. Age, race, religion, money and gender can all cause this..

.. The more I got to thinking, the more I realised the only ‘problem’ I can see with non-monogamy specifically, and the only ‘unique’ thing that I occasionally find hard to deal with is the lack of recognised structure. From Facebook relationship indicators, to the format of the law with regards to next of kin, inheritance, children etc. All these things make it harder than necessary to structure a poly relationship – similar, but more so, I think, than the blended families making up most of the households in the UK today.

Non-nomogamy, you see, isn’t all that much of an edge case. People are still people, emotions still aren’t rational, relationships are still tricky and all of us have many of them and none of us are exceptions.

This is my shortest ever PMM post, and possibly one of my most concise ever offerings.
Polyamory – it’s just not that weird!!