I had an appointment with a nutritionist last night. Not something I'd ever thought I'd hear myself say! While I agree that eating healthily is important, I've always been a bit cynical about the somewhat 'sexed-up' claims of some healthy eating plans.

Headlines that scream "this diet cured my cancer" really get my back up because, although I'm happy for the person who benefitted from the plan, I wonder how many people tried it and didn't get the results they'd hoped for...

I feel a palpable shift in attitude these days towards self-medicating, and the mindset that we are somehow cabable of warding off life-threatening illnesses, if we'd only eat the right stuff.

With respect, b*££*($! There are so many factors that conspire to bring on conditions, diseases and illness. It's not realistic to think that we can be well from diet alone...

That said, I put my reservations aside because, as I say, I do think what we eat is obviously important. It's a no-brainer. So... the consultation went well. I was given a day-to-day plan of things I can and can't eat (no chocolate, no wheat - what the...?!) and bundled off with an armful of supplements to give my flagging system the boost it needs.

I'm following a low GI plan, with extra-strength liquid vits thrown in to soup up my energy levels. A blood test indicated that this was best for my type, also taking into account other minor ails such as PCOS, IBS and high cholesterol - all of which are a nuisance but within my power to manage, apparently.

So if nothing else, this plan should mop up the more niggly worries, leaving me better able to deal with the ongoing malignant melanoma schtuff.

I'll keep monitoring how I feel over the next few weeks and see if, while living the nutritional dream, I actually notice any change. It would be good to feel better because I feel a bit pants at the moment. I saw an old aquaintence on the bus tonight and she looked fabulous. i know it's a trivial thing, but I felt so self-conscious about how scruffy and haggared I looked, I avoided her. Duh!

Bring on the radiant, carrot-munching new me!

Just a quick update today – finally back online after nearly a week without access. Amazing how dependent you become, eh!

I had the wide exision last Wednesday – the boyfriend was away working in sunny California (armed with liberal quantities of sun block) – so my friend Marnie took up the reins of chief nerve-calmer.

The procedure went fine although, as ever, I went as shaky as a leaf at the sight of the equipment trolley rolling towards me. A lovely nurse chatted to me throughout the op to stop me leaping up and running out the room, half-stitched.

Predictably the first few days have been uncomfortable – not sleeping on my back is a pain in the *&£%£! But I’m back at work this week and I’ll be getting the stitches out in a couple of weeks.

Next step is the visual check of my entire body for more nasties, blood tests and CT – feels like one last hurdle to go now…

Yesterday, a big envelope arrived containing a whole load of info about the flat my boyfriend and I had put an offer in on. It’d all been swept under the carpet a bit since the melanoma diagnosis. A contract has come through and it looks like it might just go ahead!

It would be wonderful to move in to a new home at the start of 2007.

Bring on the New Year, and some good news for anyone effected by Mel.

Never thought I’d hear myself quoting the venerable Ronan Keeting, but there you go. My mind’s obviously not functioning well this morning...

Things aren’t quite as they should be. When I had my consultation on Thursday, the results and prognosis were undeniably good. I was delighted. I called concerned family and friends and told them so.

I went with my ridiculously relieved boyfriend to the pub for a slap-up lunch to celebrate what could’ve been infinitely worse news. I expected to be riding a wave of relief and positivity from then-on – a new-found love of life.

But once I got home, I felt completely deflated. I went for a nap and woke up feeling really spaced out and disconnected. Work the next day was torture; I kept expecting to burst into tears at any moment. No one spoke to me much; they seemed to scent my unhappiness and run a mile...

This morning, everything’s OK again. I don’t have that barely bearable sadness hanging over me.

I suppose the reason is because melanoma is something that can return at any time. It feels more like a stay of execution than a total reprieve. Not a good way to look at it, I know. Statistically I’m in a good place – 85-95% chance of survival 10years+ - and believe me, that feels great. But knowing I’ll need to be vigilant for this destructive disease for the rest of my life has taken the edge off my relief, I think.

I feel so ungrateful too, to be moping when there are so many people engaged in horrendous battles with skin cancer right now, and are showing more energy and positivity than I could ever muster.

It’s a relief to say I’m scared here – people don’t really understand why I’m still worried... Now it’s been “cut out”.

I think the “new-found love of life” thing didn’t really materialise in a way that it should’ve either because I’ve always been pretty aware of my own mortality. From nearly drowning aged 5 to being run over aged about 10, being in a coach crash with my mum and then a car crash later on... Ever seen Final Destination?! I should be paranoid but I know life’s just a roll of a dice. It doesn’t stop me being de-motivated and selfish at times though.

I’m definitely going to make some changes, and I think my personality has already shifted a little... I’ve just got to accept that there’ll be more ups and downs ahead and just try to hang on in there.

I’m so glad there are people like Lee raising awareness so others don’t have to go through this...

First off, a big hello to all my fellow planet melanoma contributors and readers, and thank you to Lee for including me :-) It’s great to know there are other people out there who are willing to share their experiences of skin cancer.

Today was the big day – I got my biopsy results. Apparently, considering how long I’ve had this thing, they still managed to catch it early. The next step is a wide local exision to remove surrounding tissue and get those all-important clear margins.

It was a huge relief to hear that the lesion hadn’t gone too deep and that the prognosis is good but, of course, there are still some tests to get through before I’m out of the woods.

I was a complete wimp about the biopsy, so I’m dreading the exision. In an attempt to reassure me, my specialist - who’s a lovely, kindly man - said: “Don’t worry my dear, I’m very conservative with my cuts. The area removed will be less Porterhouse steak, more lamb chop!”

So, in two weeks’ time my nicely healed back will be sliced and diced again – but for all the best reasons. Anything that gets rid of the melanoma is worth gritting your teeth for. Blimey, if I have to have anything radical done, I’ll be useless – absolutely no stiff upper lip.

So, another few weeks of fun at the hospital ahead but, with any luck, I’ll be celebrating a cancer-free Christmas.