My Story
Gillian and I met 10 years ago when our boys started secondary school. A few conversations were exchanged over doorsteps, within a short space of time, we didn’t just become friends we became family. Gillian was Auntie Gill to my kids, and the Louise to my Thelma. We shared a similar sense of humour; we could tell each other anything and would always have each other’s back. She was a safe place for me, someone who always listened and had an honest answer. Gillian was loving, caring, fun and loved to talk. Her family were her priority. She was passionate, fierce and lived life to the max, taking every opportunity to make memories with those she loved. Gillian adored animals, travel, and above all, her family. Her zest for life made the news of her breast cancer in July 2018 all the harder. When I opened the door, she was stood with a bottle of wine and a big smile. She poured the glasses and said to take a big drink - “I have something to tell you”. That was when she told me about the breast cancer. She didn't dwell on the diagnosis, even flying to Africa to volunteer at a wildlife centre before dealing with it. She said, “I’ll deal with it all when I’m back.” And that’s what she did. Then in in September 2020 we were off to the beach Gillian style, one golden lab and one boxer into the back of her convertible and headed to the sunset, we laughed as the dogs lived their best life in the back seat. Thelma and Louise might be heading to a beach on the west of Scotland, but we were having fun. As we walked, she told me she was sure she could feel a lump. She said I know the cancer is back. Two weeks later, she was paralysed from the chest down. She had a spinal tumour. We were all devasted. It was a frightening time, especially during covid. However, even though Gillian was afraid herself, she somehow made her diagnosis easier for others. Life was different but she adapted, we all adapted. She whizzed around in her electric wheelchair causing absolute chaos. Gillian had memories she wanted to make. One thing on her bucket list was to travel to Japan and that is exactly what she did with her boys in 2022. She faced cancer with unbelievable strength and determination. She wanted live. Four years after her second cancer diagnosis, Gillian passed away. She had outlived her initial timeframe by 47 months, but nothing prepares you for that last goodbye. The last day I saw her before she passed, she laughed a lot as I talked about my marathon training. She said I mean who on earth wants to run a marathon. Thelma you are mad. Why not have a cake sale instead. I signed up to the adidas Manchester Marathon to support Cancer Research UK, whose pioneering work can help stop more Thelma’s losing their Louises’. I also turn 50 this year, so it’s a way for me to celebrate life, as Gillian did for herself too. After all, if she can go to Japan while living with terminal cancer, I can run 26.2 miles! On 25th November peacefully Gillian passed away. My heart was not in it but I knew she would want me to keep going, she would want to have a giggle at my stories of training. She would want me to make my kids proud, she would be my biggest cheerleader. So we are back on track, looking forward to the event. It's not about time; it's about the atmosphere, the finish line, and gratitude. Gillian's funeral song was "Only One Call Away." That will be in my head every step of the way. I also want to thank the Ayrshire Hospice; they are incredible and allowed Gillian to truly live with cancer. We'll be forever grateful
