The Rock and I have very different study vibes. Mine is sleek, minimal, and 100% paperless. Apple Store chic. His, on the other hand, is a hoarder’s paradise; an ecosystem of papers and books living in what he optimistically calls “organised heaps.” I’m pretty sure if you carbon-dated one of his piles it would pre-date the internet.

I mention this because The Rock LOVES a list. A man who worships at the altar of stationery. He took the schedule given to us at the very start of treatment and crossed off every single day as we completed it. Weirdly, this helped me so much. Watching those days disappear one by one felt like someone turning up the dimmer switch at the end of a long tunnel.

Before I was allowed to leave the hospital permanently, we had one final training session with Nurse Swallow, who taught us how to use the feeding tube at home. The Rock had to be trained too. It was extremely straightforward—no exam, no quiz, just a practical demonstration. However, The Rock was absolutely devastated that he didn’t get a certificate. Not even a “Well Done for Participating” sticker. The man was robbed.

Then came the final mask torture session. At the end they asked if I wanted to keep the mask. And obviously, I did. You don’t survive all that and then bin the trophy. I fully intend to make something beautiful out of it. Either sculpt it into something artistic or, more likely, hand it over to My Darling Ruby Next Door, who is a floral wizard and can turn it into a garden sculpture covered in blooms. If anyone can make trauma look fabulous, it’s My Darling Ruby Next Door.

Mama Bear was waiting afterward for a special hug, and then she led us to the Beatson café where the bell is. If you don’t know the bell, it’s the one you ring when you complete treatment. It’s a symbol of survival, resilience and finally being allowed to stop smelling of hospital disinfectant.

I’d seen plenty of other people ring it and had clapped along proudly. But when it was my turn, I rang the bell, and the entire café erupted in applause, I burst into tears. Weeks of emotional sludge finally forced its way out like a blocked drainage pipe.

Then came the worst part: saying goodbye to Mama Bear. I hope she reads this one day, because she has no idea how much she meant to me. And then, wonderfully, she gave us gifts. I’m sure that’s not how it’s supposed to work, but I wasn’t arguing. I got a fake beard and The Rock finally got his long-awaited certificate.

It was the first real belly laugh I’d had in months.

LESSON 16: EITHER USE YOUR SCHEDULE OR CREATE A PAGE WITH THE DATES ON IT OF EACH SESSION AND CROSS EACH DAY OFF. IT REALLY HELPS.

LESSON 17: EMPTY YOURSELF OF ALL EMOTION BEFORE RINGING THE BELL. FAILURE TO DO SO MAY RESULT IN PUBLIC WEEPING.

LESSON 18: RING THAT BELL LIKE YOU’RE SUMMONING THOR.