I learned the hard way what present not to give a person with cancer

It took me five months to be diagnosed after I felt a mass in my left breast. 

I was dismissed at first – I was told I was too young to have breast cancer and that it was probably mastitis or hormonal.

When all was revealed, I was terrified and convinced I would die. I’d lost my mum to breast cancer.

My world imploded and my future, previously mapped out – I was recently married, had moved to the countryside with a new job and was planning for a family – suddenly became uncertain.

I started my first session of chemotherapy on the Friday after diagnosis, in an attempt to shrink the tumours and make surgery possible.

There was so much to try and get my head around.

Chemo was tough but manageable. The fatigue and nausea were relentless, but I rested as much as possible.

It was then the flower deliveries started rolling in. 

I love flowers and was so grateful for the accompanying messages of love and support.

But there were so many that I ran out of vases and pots to put them in.

There was also something a bit sad about being surrounded by wilting blooms when you are facing a life-threatening illness – it was a visual reminder of how fragile life is.

When I went into hospital for my surgery, in October, I was also sent numerous bunches there. But flowers are banned on most wards, so I didn’t even get to see them.

It felt like such a waste.

Other people in the online cancer forums were also saying the same thing. 

My house looks like a funeral parlour, there’s so many bunches of flowers, one person joked.

Don’t get me wrong, flowers are lovely, but nobody needs more than a few bunches.

But what else could people pick? Toiletries can be tricky with people having, or choosing to, avoid various ingredients such as parabens, sulphates and fragrances.

Some cancer patients may choose to avoid sugar and dairy or lose their appetites completely during treatment, meaning tasty treats can also be difficult.

Practical support is the most appreciated, but if you live too far away to help out in person this is challenging.

So, while feeling grotty and lying on the sofa, an idea grew and I started making a list of gifts I would have found useful during treatment. 

And that was how, in October 2013, Not Another Bunch Of Flowers was born – a website selling thoughtful gift alternatives to flowers.

I started with chemo care packages, hospital hampers, get well gifts and gifts for new mums. These included gifts that were welcome and useful in hospitals like pretty eye masks, cosy bed socks, edible treats, mini toiletries, nightwear and books.

Not Another Bunch Of Flowers quickly grew to offer thoughtful gifts for all occasions – birthdays, seasonal gifts etc.

I was given the devastating news that the chemo had left me infertile and I would never be able to have children. 

I was utterly heartbroken, but threw myself into my little business, which became my baby. 

Over the years I have felt very honoured to have been able to use my experience to help others who have just been diagnosed or to offer advice and comfort to the families whose loved ones are going through cancer.

I often get messages from people asking for personal advice – everything from how to manage menopausal symptoms, what products helped me during treatment, to different reconstruction options.

I’ve also partnered with a number of charities over the years in recognition of the support I received during my own treatment.

I am still doing well (touch wood) and, after 12 years, will hopefully be able to finish my hormone medication soon.

I will never be given the ‘all clear’, the best I can hope for is ‘no evidence of disease’.

But there has been light. 

The doctors were wrong.

In 2017 I had my miracle baby boy.