TAYA REID

I became that meme of a woman calculating, the chalk-scribble floating about her. What would it take to still make Rotto?

I’ve moved from camp I-might-die to I-probably -won’t. I’ve figured out that the somewhat hurtful complacency shown by many medical professionals in relation to breast cancer is simply down to them knowing you’re very likely to survive.

My consciousness of what was happening shifted over a matter of weeks. Awaiting the ultrasound appointment I lay awake at night, blinking into the inevitability. I knew as soon as the technician slowed down, the faintest tremor in her voice as she asked me with false brightness about my children, her careful repetition over the area, tapping swiftly at the keyboard too many times.

For anyone whose score does not reflect their light. As I thumbed through a newspaper recently, the headline WA’s top ATAR: Meet State’s...