It's my birthday and I'll cry if I want to

So it's my birthday today. I'm 33 years old. Unfortunately chemotherapy side effects have lulled me in to a false sense of security and have chosen today to strike so I think my celebratory tipple is likely to be a shot of this bad boy:

This time last year i was sat under the stars in the hot tub of a luxury cabin somewhere in a North Yorkshire forest drinking champagne. If you'd have told me that this year I'd be knackered, bald, ill and in pain due to chemotherapy after being diagnosed with cancer five months ago, I'd have probably laughed in your face.

But unfortunately, it's not me doing the laughing. Life sidled up to me, stuck it's ugly face in mine and emitted one hell of a high pitched cackle. I have learnt the hard way that life can change in a moment - an incident, a few choice words, a medical appointment . The rug can be pulled from under you and your world spun on it's axis and you'd give anything you possibly could to claw it back to the way it was before.

I used to dread my birthday - about going grey, that extra year. No more. I now know that growing old is a privilege that is sadly not afforded to all of us.

My future itself is uncertain - I don't know how many more birthdays I'm going to get. But there is one thing i do know - I want to have as many more as possible and I will welcome each and every one with open arms from now on.