When my daughter was born, I imagined all the wonderful things we’d do together. Dressing up, playing with dollies, going on shopping trips and girls’ days at the spa. Instead, I found myself fighting for my life, hooked up to machines and undergoing chemotherapy, while my precious little girl was also fighting for hers.
In early 2020, I was checking Facebook when I noticed a message from a name that I didn’t recognise. ‘I think I’m your cousin,’ it read. Explaining she lived in Canada, she said she was related to my dad’s side of the family. Rather than researching her family tree, she’d got in touch with important news. ‘There is a cancer gene mutation that runs in the family, you may
