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love.

I remember the man in the room next to Dad’s, he used to proper cheer my dad up by telling him funny stories. I sometimes have a little think about him and wonder if he is OK. When my dad was feeling down, this man – who had been in an accident at work and lost both his legs – used to tell my dad off and tell him to stop being so bloody soft as he’s got a family to think about.

When Dad had his op he was so lucky. Yes, the tumour was huge, leaving a scar the size of a dinner plate and an indentation a couple of inches long, and he had to have skin grafts on the backs of both his thighs, but they managed to remove the whole tumour. He was allowed to come home on Christmas Eve and that was the greatest Christmas any of my family ever had. I only got a few presents to open as obviously my mam had other priorities than present-buying that year, but I didn’t care at all. I had my dad; I had him there on Christmas Day to cuddle, to pull a cracker with, to eat the middle parts of his puddings with (I wouldn’t let him have the crusty edges).

My dad made a speedy recovery. A nurse came out every day for a couple of weeks to clean and cover his skin grafts and he was advised to take six months off work, but Dad being Dad he was back at work grafting away just eight weeks later.

Me dad has had a few little lumps removed since then but nothing serious. He was told by the doctor at the time it was a rare form of skin cancer. I think once you have been through something like that it makes you appreciate people and life more. We all moan about shit sometimes, really unimportant things, but life is the most precious gift we have. He was so lucky to beat cancer’s arse. I know so many friends and family that haven’t been that lucky and it’s just devastating. But we cannot let that bloody C-word win – one day we will find a cure, and in the meantime we just have to keep donating and doing our bit. We can help beat it by going to the doctor’s as soon as we see a potential problem, we need to check for lumps, any changes in moles, go for that prostate exam and us women have to go for our smear as soon as we get that letter. Doctors these days are on the ball but you have to help yourself. It is still a terrifying illness.

So I know for Dad the thought of his little girl having to have tests for that bloody C-word was heartbreaking. But only three hours or so after my dad was crying into my sock the doctor came back in to tell us some amazing news.

‘The tests have come back and your daughter is fit and healthy – other than the unfortunate case of Bell’s palsy, of course. I’m going to give her a strong case of steroids and she will have regular check-ups, but it should have cleared within three months.’

I’m so grateful the doctor was right. The worst of it lasted around three months and then to my great delight I was starting to look like the old Scarlett again.

And yes, that’s the Scarlett that I once stared at in the mirror and ripped to shreds. The Scarlett whose face I would rearrange in my head to have longer hair, flawless skin and perfect teeth. The Scarlett who once wished she looked like the girls in Smash Hits magazine. It’s crazy: before the Bell’s palsy I was so self-critical but once the steroids worked I was so happy. It made me appreciate what I had.

I wasn’t completely the old me; the condition does still affect me to this day. I normally sleep with an eye mask at home as I still can’t close my left eye properly, and it’s also caused a droop with my left eyebrow. So in photos it constantly looks like I’m doing the Elvis Presley eyebrow. I do get some trolls on my social media commenting on my face and how unsymmetrical it is, or saying that my teeth are ridiculous. But do you know what? I really don’t care. Because having that palsy made me wish so hard to be the old me. Looks are only skin-deep. I’m here, I’m alive. The outcome could have been so much worse when I came smashing down off my bike or when I went to the hospital that day and had those tests done. Who gives a shit if my face is a bit wonky and my teeth are a bit goofy?

Remember to always love yourself for what you are, not hate yourself for what you’re not. As the American author Regina Brett once said:

‘If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw

everyone else’s, we’d grab ours back.’

Chapter Six

DO YOU WANT TO GO TO THE PROM WITH ME?

The Nokia 3310 has a 55- to 245-hour battery life, even on standby. Talk about long lasting. It was chosen as one of the three national emojis to represent Finland and is known as ‘the brick’.

One in ten British parents admit to paying £500 for their daughters to attend their school prom (tan, make-up, hair, outfit, shoes, travel and of course the corsage).

A new grading scale of 9–1 will be used for GCSEs in the UK, instead of the old A–U grading.

I remember sitting on the top deck of the 5A bus pretending to read my Sabrina the Teenage Witch magazine so I didn’t have to make eye contact with anyone else. The anxious little Scarlett in my head kept repeating the same two lines: ‘You are

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