FOR most it's a Wham song.
But when you've got stage 4 cancer, 'Last Christmas' takes on a whole different meaning.
I was diagnosed three years ago this week. So this is my fourth, 'Last Christmas'.
It's the fourth Christmas I have had to accept could be my last one with my kids.
I have always loved this time of the year. What isn't to love? The food, wine, sparkly lights, glittery dresses and lots of excuses for a party.
But cancer has definitely added a new dimension.
For the last three years, I haven't dared to let myself think about the next Christmas.
I've been focused on many memories, having no regrets and doing everything I can to make it as special as possible for the kids, my husband, family and friends.
Daring to dream
This year, for the first time, I am daring to dream.
I've actually heard myself say, 'Well, next Christmas we will do that'. I surprised myself, but as I said it, it felt good.
I haven't thought like this for a while, because I have to take one day at a time in the hope of getting more.
For the last three years, I haven’t dared to let myself think about the next Christmas
Right now, I am hopeful. I am living in the mindset that maybe, just maybe I might get to be one of the lucky ones.
I'm learning to accept that I am one of a new generation of cancer patient – those who get to live with it.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not delusional. My condition could take a turn at any moment, I know that.
But, I also know there are more than 100,000 incurable cancer patients in this country who are like me, currently thriving.
My cancer doesn't appear to be going anywhere new at the moment.
I haven't yet run out of options on the treatment front.
And so for me, this feeling is without a doubt the best Christmas present I could have imagined.
This time of the year makes lots of people feel reflective – and I'm one of them.
So I wanted to take this change to share a few things that I am eternally grateful for…
The NHS
I can't put into words how grateful I am for the NHS staff that are keeping me alive.
There are too many to mention by name, but they know who they are.
Thank you to each and every one of you, you will never truly understand what your tireless support means to me.
And to all NHS workers who will be spending their Christmas helping others – thank you!
Thank you for the tears you have wiped, the hands you've held, the sick you've cleared up, and the pain you've shared with us.
We know you go above and beyond.
We know you are overstretched and we know you are doing an incredible job in tough circumstances.
Thank you for staying so optimistic, for keeping smiling and helping us do the same.
Holding on to hope
I'm so lucky that I can have hope. I know for some, it's hard to feel that way.
But this Christmas especially I am full of hope.
Hope that research into the ways we treat cancer is really making an impact. It's ensuring people like me are living longer.
Yes, the Holy Grail is a cure for all cancers, but we have to move away from the idea that one single "cure" is the only goal.
I've spent lots of this year talking to different scientists and they've helped me understand that cancer is always evolving – that's why it's so tricky to treat.
What gives me hope is that there are more personalised approaches that help doctors work out how to target specific cancers.
Yes there are limitations – inoperable tumours are a real b*tch. Not responding to treatment isn't much fun either.
Then there is actually getting access to new treatments and the simple but agonising fact that for some types of cancer there aren't as many treatment options.
I know that one day, I am likely to end up in that boat – where I have run out of treatment options, but I have to take hope from the fact that lives are being extended – and quality of life for many patients is improving all the time.
The drugs I am on didn't exist when I was diagnosed three years ago.
They have kept me alive for the last year – that gives me hope.
For Christmas miracles
It's scary thinking of my future.
But when I look back on last Christmas, I didn't think I'd be here for this one. So I guess, anything can happen, right?!
When you're in the thick of it, it's hard to stay positive.
I often find myself fearing the worst. This time last year I was seriously ill.
I'd had a really bad reaction to my new drugs, and I basically slept through Christmas Day and was back in hospital by Boxing Day.
I felt like I heard Christmas happening around me, but couldn't open my eyes to see it.
I honestly thought it was the beginning of the end.
So, I count this Christmas as a miracle, plain and simple!
To Christmas cheer
If you, like me, have been sweating the small stuff in the run up to Christmas, forget it!
Drink some mulled wine, and breathe.
In the grand scheme of it all, whether or not you've got the right cutlery or table decorations really doesn't matter.
Christmas is a great time of year to get a bit of perspective, to remember how lucky we all are.
And that leads me nicely on to those who might not be having a great time at this time of year.
Sending love to those having a tough Christmas
I know how lucky I am, firstly to be here this Christmas at all, and secondly to be feeling good.
Christmas is a time of year when we all think about those who aren't here anymore. It can be really painful.
Today, I'm thinking of two friends in particular – both affected by bowel cancer too.
One is Sophia who died far too young last month, at just 31. It's her funeral today.
Then there is my friend Kelly, we've bonded over our mutual hate for bowel cancer.
She found out today that her bowel cancer has spread to her bones. She still has options, for that I am so grateful, but it's just another challenge, more chemo and as a single mum to a six-year-old, it's really tough.
Cancer is sh*t, no two ways about it.
Sometimes all I can muster is anger, because honestly no words are good enough.
I can't promise my friend she will get better, I can't promise her it will be OK.
But I can tell her she's not alone, none of us are.
Merry Christmas one and all
So, as the big day approaches, have fun, enjoy your family time and treasure your loved ones.
Put the little worries and minor arguments aside, and take stock of life.
THINGS CANCER MADE ME SAY
ROLLERCOASTER 
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It's a magical time of the year, and it makes me believe that Christmas wishes might just come true.
They don't always, but holding on to hope is enough to keep me in the festive spirit.
Merry Christmas, for now, and for many more to come x
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