If you got cancer tomorrow, god forbid, and needed financial help, do you know what statutory sick pay is? £350 a month. Dunno about you, but that means I literally could not afford to be one of the one-in-three of us affected.
When Lauren got breast cancer, she had no choice but to become an entrepreneur in order to financially pull through. Chemo and business plans? Nobody tells you about that bit. About the cap you wear to freeze your hair follicles and how you might keep your locks but lose your house. About how even your vagina dries up from the chemicals that kill the cancer and murder any sense of yourself you once knew - even as you wonder if you should just put this all on a credit card. This is the realest fucking thing somebody I love has been through and it staggers me how if love could, indeed, protect her, Lauren wouldn't be enduring this in the first place. But it isn't and she is and so: