In her no-holds-barred column, Irish singer, actress and TV star Linda Nolan speaks candidly about living with cancer, a disease that has also struck sisters Anne and Coleen and took the life of their sister Bernie. After losing the ability to tell the time last week, Linda’s now feeling wobbly at not being able to stand
I clearly remember the day Bernie couldn’t get out of her car. She and her husband pulled up outside our place in Blackpool and from upstairs I heard the kerfuffle. Her legs had just stopped working.
“They just went,” she told me once they finally got her inside. “Can I get you a glass of water?” I asked, desperately worried. “No, but I’ll have a Vodka Mule,” she said.
This week the same happened to me. We’d been out for lunch but when it came to getting out of my brother Brian’s car, I simply couldn’t. It’s the hardest thing to explain. You feel completely helpless – nothing is within your control. You go to put weight on your legs and there’s nothing there, so you fall back.
Finally I managed to do it with a lot of help, but the wobbliness isn’t going away (and no, I didn’t hit the Mules). I’ve now achieved the hat trick – falling three times in a day. It hasn’t proved a charm.
First I fell drawing the curtains. I remembered what my physio told me, eyed the nearest sturdiest object – the chest of drawers which was naturally on the other side of the room – and crawled there to pull myself up.
Then in the lounge I decided to move a side table – because that was sensible – and fell again, this time using the sofa to hoist myself. But of course I still had that side table in my sights and repeated it all. Thankfully this time my brother arrived to pick me up.
Thank God for Vitaline. (And, of course, my family – she adds, hurriedly!) That panic button never leaves my neck. I even wear it out, not that it works outside. I just worry I’ll forget to put it back on.
I’ve never had to use it, but I’ve completely embraced the reassurance. It’s the necklace I never knew I wanted. If the cancer doesn’t get me first, it’ll no doubt garrotte me. They don’t call me Lucky Linda for nothing.
So yes, a difficult week, with a few bed days. I even retreated right before Denise and I were supposed to be heading out and called her from bed to tell her I couldn’t go.
But two moments have lifted my spirits. The first was my sister-in-law Annie’s tea party. She made scones and cookies (unfortunately I’d not got to Morrisons) and us girls chatted so loud we sounded like a hen house. You must never underestimate the power of a good chat.
And I saw my oncologist. No cookies there, but good news. My first scan since the new treatment shows the tumours are stable. As I left, he said: “Now Linda, don’t fall.” Cheek.
