Opinion: Why I understand Princess of Wales’ desire to keep cancer diagnosis private

I know why The Princess of Wales was trying to keep her cancer diagnosis private.

Why she was silent and absent from public view and prying eyes, or trying to, at least.

Cancer still carries a stigma. It’s ugly. It’s shocking and scary and let’s be honest – it’s still a little bit taboo despite all the talk and televised fundraisers.

When you’re the One with The Cancer it separates you from everyone else.

People treat you differently, look at you with pity.

If you can prolong sharing your diagnosis for as long as possible you’re spared from all that.

I don’t blame Kate for trying to keep quiet.

A diagnosis of a potentially life-ending or at least life-altering illness is a heavy weight to bear and being the next in line to be crowned Queen doesn’t spare you from that burden.

One day everything is ‘normal’ and you’re healthy and the next you are standing knee-deep in shock and sadness, head hung low, arms swaying heavy from slumped shoulders, as you try to swim through the mess and make sense of it all.

And it is a mess. So all you can do is compartmentalise everything.

Compartment one: Dealing with IT and the shock yourself.

Compartment two: Telling family.

Compartment three: Telling work.

Compartment four: Telling friends.

That’s the immediate. And they are huge things to deal with.

Then there’s the next compartment.

The treatment.

You have to sign your life away, literally, as oncologists ask you to give them permission to poison you to make you better.

Then there’s the worry over side effects and the internal questions: how the hell will I cope? will I be able to handle the chemo and side effects? will this… cure me?

After that comes the future compartment. The one that you don’t want to enter in to but somewhere between finding a lump or feeling sick and getting a diagnosis and waiting to see if it has spread you have to face your long-term.

This is the worst one and I wouldn’t for one minute want to share it with the world’s social media.

You face your mortality head on but all you can think about is your loved ones.

You think about how the people in your life will cope without you. How WILL they cope without you?

All of these huge emotions and thoughts and realisations and preparations have to be confronted within days of each other. It is a lot to take in.

Especially – especially – if you’re a mother of young children. I can’t imagine what any young mother of young children goes through when they hear their diagnosis.

Since my diagnosis on November 24 I too have ‘hidden from public view’.

Partly to give myself and my family time to process everything but partly to isolate and focus on my health and recovery, to stay away from germs a bit like a Covid lockdown.

Except this isn’t a nationwide situation. It’s personal.

The worst part for me wasn’t hearing the words ‘yes, it’s cancer’ it was the waiting for the results from the CT scan – to see if ‘it’ had spread and that took three weeks.

In those three weeks I was utterly and impossibly frozen by fear.

I thought that everything was cancer.

I stubbed my toe and a lump formed: it’s cancer. I had a headache that wouldn’t go away: it’s cancer. I had stomach cramps: it’s cancer.

Cancer consumes your every thought.

It is no wonder the Princess needed time away from such a high profile role in society.

She had so many soul numbing fears to face circling around in her brain 24/7. It’s a lot. Cancer is A LOT.

Whilst this was going on especially, I couldn’t imagine having my life discussed on every social media platform, strangers slinging accusations so carefreely. How disgusting.

At that moment all I could think about was my children and grandchild and being here for them.

The thought of leaving them so soon, a year before my 50th birthday, was horrifying.

There is so much life left to live! So many things I want to share with them, show them.

I had so many dark days during those three weeks where I was terrified of leaving them.

I would cry so much that I did that awful ‘silent screaming’ where nothing was left to come out because my tears and voice had all gone.

I am sure that our dear Princess has gone through similar scenarios and my heart goes out to her.

Then there’s the chemo side of things that are desperately, desperately private. I don’t know what type of chemotherapy the Princess is having but my experience is nothing that I want to share with anyone or have probed about by members of the public.

It affects your hair

Your bowels

Your skin

You have a PICC line put in your arm that needs dressings changed regularly and covering up

You can’t taste food nor water properly

You have muscle fatigue and bone pain, searing bone pain

You have headaches and rashes and for me, any underlying conditions like tinnitus or arthritis are exasperated.

You have to constantly be aware of everything – your line, your temperature, changes in skin condition or pain levels.

The list is endless and can really send you into panic if you let it overwhelm you.

You have brain fog, insomnia; incurable thirst; no appetite; so many meds to take.

All of this is exhausting – emotionally and physically – and it changes daily.

I’m not surprised that Kate wanted to step aside and politely decline chats with charity representatives, ribbon cuttings, meetings, greetings, speeches and everything else demanded of her in the spotlight.

You can’t do those things in sweatpants, headwraps and no make-up whilst dashing to a loo nearby and keeping stacks of meds and drinks to hand.

Cancer, despite all the publicity and the excellent healthcare information and services we have available to us in the UK, is still the unknown.

It is still terrifying and the treatment journey is taken alone, despite all the support available as each person’s experience of it is unique.

For instance I became allergic to the elastic in socks and had nose bleeds for the first time in my life and I was one of the unlucky ones who reacted to the cold cap (that you wear to prevent hair loss).

I don’t think any of this was in the hospital guidebooks. But I have found a way to cope and push through.

On the ‘flip side’ if there is one, I had no nausea nor tiredness.

Whatever Princess Kate’s experiences have been I can’t imagine going through all this and being a public figure.

I feel sorry that her health matters had to be brought to the forefront of the global collective mind because people quite obviously had no other thoughts to occupy it with.

She is a braver woman than I, I know that much.

The courage it took to sit on that bench and serenely tell the world about quite possibly the most traumatic thing that has happened to her family is admirable.

She was forced into doing this but she owned it and delivered her news with grace. For hundreds of years the royal family have had the luxury of dealing with major life upheavals behind closed doors but due to our modern society, our future Queen had to feed the hungry mouths of the screen tappers.

I wish Kate every success with her treatment and recovery and I hope she can get on with it with the privacy and decency she deserves. As I already mentioned, she has enough questions going on in her own head and from her own immediate friends and family. She doesn’t need eight billion other people chipping in. `