I’m a cancer sufferer like Kate Middleton – please stop calling us ‘brave’

Think before you speak about someone with cancer, writes Sarah Davidson, who was diagnosed a month before the Princess of Wales, in March. Royal or not, nobody should be branded a ‘lesser mortal’ if they don’t feel able to perform in public

Kate Middleton appeared in public as part of the Trooping the Colour display on Saturday (Matt Porteous)

I was really interested to see Kate Middleton in public on Saturday after it was reported that she was tired from her cancer treatment.

I was diagnosed with breast cancer in February and I’m also going through chemotherapy. As a result, I’ve put 2024 on hold – I’m missing my daughter’s last sports day and last concert at primary school. I expect that the Princess of Wales is making similar sacrifices. My heart aches for any pressure that she may have felt to appear in public and to put a “brave face” on things.

In fact, I’d go as far as to admit that some of the coverage about Princess Kate this weekend made me very angry indeed. One commentator wrote that Kate appearing in public as part of the Trooping the Colour display was “selfless”, the “tonic Britain needed” – and lauded her for gathering her strength to do so when “lesser mortals” would have stayed at home.

I have a huge problem with this rhetoric – and it’s got nothing to do with Kate. I do think she should be admired for doing the unthinkable and stepping out like that in front of the world’s cameras, particularly when she was lambasted for staying out of the limelight for so long in the beginning (and also criticised for the digitally altered family photograph she released).

My ire is not with her, a fellow cancer sufferer, at all. But it is with those who call people like me and Kate “brave” – and (in so doing) place unfair expectations on the rest of us to perform in public.

I’m 48 and I was diagnosed with breast cancer the day before we heard that King Charles had cancer, a month before Kate Middleton revealed hers. I’m sitting here without hair from the chemotherapy I’m currently undergoing. On some days I have very little energy at all.

So, how dare some people imply – or say outright – that some people are braver than others for being able to leave their houses? We all experience this differently. Some of us have to cope, day to day, after being filled with a toxic concoction that’s designed to kill off part of the body.

As a mum-of-two, if I choose to stay indoors because I’m feeling exhausted or sick and want to reserve my energy for my daughters when they get home from school, does that make me a “lesser mortal”? Should it?

Cancer is a leveller: no two people have the same treatment or the same response to the chemotherapy or surgery. Far too many people are living with this terrible diagnosis hanging over their heads. The show may indeed go on for some people, but why should it? Why should any of us have to conform?

Many cancer sufferers don’t have any choice about working – that doesn’t make them braver or less mortal. We’re all human and dealing with this horrific diagnosis in the best way we can.

I thought I knew quite a bit about cancer prior to my diagnosis, but I really didn’t. There are so many terms and procedures to understand – stages and grades, not to mention 100 different types of chemotherapy; words like “primary”, “secondary”, “spreads”.

Chemotherapy can be before or after surgery; daily, weekly, thrice weekly – orally or intravenously. I have mine every three weeks. This means that on chemo day, it’s generally the best day; but then the side effects appear in the following days.

I also didn’t realise that the effects of the chemo are cumulative, so after the very first lot, I slept for a few hours and felt much better pretty quickly. For my last round, I slept for 48 hours solidly and even days later, I need to have a nap in the middle of the day and I’m in bed by 8pm.

Many treatments are made up of two or more regimes of different chemotherapy medicines. My first one made me feel horribly sick – almost like a permanent hangover, where even the smell of food was too much. The second treatment is giving me terrible mouth ulcers so I’m unable to eat anything with a strong taste or that has a hard texture. I’m drinking a lot of milk and the occasional cup of tea when I can.

I’m lucky in some ways that my children are teenagers, so they are able to look after themselves to some degree – but I’m also a single parent, so there are some things that they can’t do (or struggle with) due to their age. I have to be there for them. I have even set up multiple alarms on our Alexa reminding them to put their packed lunches in their bags or leave for school, just in case I can’t get up.

People can do so much for us when we are unwell – and I am forever grateful. But please, please don’t blithely call us “brave” or make those with cancer subject to a two-tier system of “doers” and “lesser mortals”. Everyone’s experience is unique. We’re already going through enough – the last thing we need is extra pressure.

I’ve been really overwhelmed by the support that my friends have given me: from ferrying around my children to and from after-school events and sleepovers when things get bad, to my 75-year-old neighbour mowing the lawn.

One friend popped round with a huge pot of pasta sauce and I even had a gift box from a recruiter at work. I’m turning 50 next year and I’m planning to have a big old party to celebrate not only the birthday milestone, but getting over this “annus horriblis”. I really hope that Kate has something similar planned.