Breast is best

Got chatting to a woman only a little older than me at the cancer clinic this morning. She was there with her husband who was being treated for pancreatic cancer. Three teenage children and a very poor prognosis. It was the one of those rare moments when I felt lucky to have breast cancer. Despite the relentless health scares in the press telling us to eat more veg, smoke less, drink less, take more exercise and so on and on - it seems to me that cancer does not read the papers. Cancer does not care if you eat brocolli every day of your life or spend hours hunting down organic free range chicken. Cancer is arbitrary. The club that no one wants to join - yet only offers lifetime membership - a striking contrast to my newly arrived official Arsenal waiting list certificate, where I may wait a lifetime and never become a member - at a mere 44,723rd from the top.