Découvrez votre prochain livre préféré

Devenez membre aujourd'hui et lisez gratuitement pendant 30 jours
Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Lire l'aperçu

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

273 pages
4 heures
May 1, 2008


In 2004 Sue found herself dealing with the fallout of the breakdown of her fourth marriage. Vowing never to marry again, she met Mark during a residential training course. Despite all her reservations and her determination not to fall in love, she realised that she had found a man who loved her like no other. On the day of their house move into their new home and new life together, shefound a lump in her right breast. Within ten days it was confirmed, she had been diagnosed with breast cancer and needed an operation immediately. Sue then faced an aggressive course of chemotherapy over a six month period, followed by radiotherapy.

This is the story of a very ordinary woman, a wife and mother of six, who has had quite an extraordinary life. It tells of her thoughts, feelings and emotions as she faced up to the prospect of losing her breast and dealing with the tough treatments that followed. Sue, like many diagnosed with cancer, did not know what to expect and so she has written this book with the hope that is will provide encouragement and inspiration for those in a similar situation.

Sue very honestly talks of her relationship with God and how the cancer affected her outlook and how, just when she felt that too much had happened in her life for God ever to be able to play a part, there was an incredible catalogue of events that took place giving her the message that God had never left her side.

For every copy sold, a donation will be made to Breast Cancer Care and Cancer Research in the hope that with this support, further advancements can be made in the fight against cancer.

May 1, 2008

À propos de l'auteur

Sue is now 52 years old and has had rather an extraordinary journey in her life. She has been married and divorced four times having to deal with very controlling relationships, being abused in a violent relationship, finding her husband having an affair and dealing with an alcoholic. She has lived not only in the UK, but also in South America and France. Having found herself on more than one occasion a single parent, she has fought to keep her children and at times holding down three jobs to keep food on the table. Sue is now happily married with six children, which include two step sons. In 2004 Sue was diagnosed with breast cancer and had to fight hard against the disease which threatened to end her life in six months if she did not start treatment. All her life experiences have made Sue what she is today, determined, a fighter and an optimist. She has had a personal relationship with God since being a young teenager but that relationship was challenged as she lost her father suddenly in an accident during her twenties. Angry with God, she was determined to live her life, her way. Only now can she testify to the incredible events that occurred in her life that proved to her just how much God loved her and how He would never walk away. This is Sue's first book that she has written and she hopes that it will encourage and inspire other cancer suffers and their families. She also hopes that it will be a tool to raise money for Breast Cancer Care and Cancer Research.   

Lié à Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Livres associé
Articles associés

Catégories liées

Aperçu du livre

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow - Sue Buzzeo


© 2009 Sue Buzzeo. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 9/21/2009

ISBN: 978-1-4343-5015-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4670-1943-9 (e)

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana


My husband Mark, who has stood by me through everything and has been the greatest support I could have ever asked for. I love you so much. Thank you for everything, especially for all the patience you have shown whilst I have hidden myself away to write this book.

This book is written in loving memory of my friends Harold Elliott and Karin Clouston, both of whom lost their brave fight with cancer.

Their courage was an inspiration to all who knew them.

























To my children Rachel, Mikki, Ted, Jamie, Andy and Lewis whose love, hugs and smiles have seen me through some of the darkest times.

To my Mum, Noelene Clement, who was there every minute that I needed her, without fail.

To my brother, Dave Malcolm, who kept me going through chemo when all I wanted to do was to give up. He never gave up on me.

To Helen Datlen and Rob Robinson who were my rocks, without whom, whilst at work I would not have been able to keep going

To GNER for all the help and support you gave every step of the way, especially Jim Gilbert and Jonathan Metcalfe.

Finally, to the Queen Elizabeth Hospital, that provided a fantastic medical team without whom I would not be here today, especially Mr Clark, Dr Branson, Dr Mazdai and the chemotherapy day unit team.


Having been diagnosed with breast cancer in 2004, I found that my whole life was turned upside down. I had to face an operation, chemotherapy and radiotherapy. During that time I was so fortunate to have the love and support of both my family and so many friends.

Whilst many thought that I coped admirably with it all, the truth is that many days I struggled and many days I felt broken. Many mornings I woke up not knowing how I would make it through the next day.

This is my story about my diagnosis and my subsequent fight to survive. It is exactly how I felt and how I experienced the treatments. I have tried to share with you my emotions as honestly as I can and give you some insight into the journey that I have taken over the past three years. I also have shared with you how the cancer had affected my relationship with God. Far from becoming angry with Him, the cancer brought me to my knees not only physically but emotionally and it was from that point that God was able to work in my life.

I am certainly not a bible basher, but I cannot help but share with you the changes that took place in my life following my diagnosis and the experience I had when I came to realise that God was on my case and was not going to let me go. It was truly remarkable and showed me the depth of His love for me.

I have not been given that incredible message that I am in remission or that I am all clear from cancer and I continue today working with my medical team to ensure the best chance of beating this once and for all. But as most people know, with cancer there are no certainties and dealing with cancer will be with me for the rest of my life.

What I want to share with you first is that being diagnosed with cancer is not the end. You need to see it as a beginning, a beginning of a fight for life. It is frightening, the treatment is tough but the best news of all is that when you come out at the other end you are part of a very special group – the survivors! Every day our group grows and grows.

If you have been diagnosed with cancer, read this book and take courage and inspiration from it. All of us who have had cancer know exactly what you are going through. You are not the first and sadly you will not be the last. I want you to picture us, all the survivors, standing at the side of the road on your journey and at the finishing line cheering you on and willing you to get there and succeed. It takes guts. It takes a huge amount of strength to deal with what you are dealing with, but you can do it by taking one step at a time.

If you know someone who has been diagnosed with cancer, this book may help you to understand a little better about the thoughts, feelings and emotions that may be felt. It may also help you understand what the partner has to deal with too, watching a loved one become so sick and worn down with the treatments.

For each book that is sold there will be a contribution made to Breast Cancer and Cancer Research in order that we can continue to fund the incredible work that has been done and continues to be done to find a cure and develop more effective treatments. This is not a losing battle as more and more people are surviving and winning the fight.

Thank you for buying this book, because in doing so you have helped to contribute towards that fight and you have helped keep someone alive.





Christmas had passed rather well I thought, bearing in mind the various dramas that were being played out behind the scenes. I had just dealt my husband what appeared to be a crushing blow when I announced, some months previously, that I could no longer cope with his drinking and all that came with it – the rows, the physical violence, furniture being hurled across the rooms, the drunken stupor, the money wasted on drink – but most of all the fact that it had eroded all my trust in him and eventually all my love. I was at a point in my life where I could no longer be the supporter, I needed to be supported. I could no longer be the strong one, I needed the strength. I no longer wanted to be the one to understand, I wanted to be understood. Most of all I wanted to feel that the trust we had once had was still there and not smashed into little pieces by the continuous lies; I haven’t been drinking, I am not drunk and the classic Why will you not believe me?

In August of 2003 my first born Rachel had turned twenty one. This little girl, with the rosiest of red cheeks that you could imagine, had grown up and now had two children of her own. She is taller than me, very slender with dark brown hair and eyes that in themselves tell a story. She has lived through a number of experiences that I would not have wished for one so young. This has been partly due to some bad decisions on my part and partly through life dealing her a pretty poor hand at times. That coupled with one or two decisions she made herself as a teenager during those months of, I know what I want, I’m not a child any more! led to some regrets of her own, I can only imagine.

Most parents have heard those words and then watched the dramas of their children’s lives unfold. Sometimes it is like watching a train crash about to happen. You know what the outcome will be, you know the pain that will be felt, but there is precious little that you can do other than stand on the sidelines and watch it happen, then make sure you are the first to the scene to administer help and support – if you are allowed. If not, then the pain only intensifies.

My own dream as a little girl to grow up, get married and live happily ever after with my husband and children seemed so far away, so simplistic and so unobtainable. When did life get so hard? Why was it that every time I believed I had found happiness, it was cruelly snatched away? Why did every choice I had made seem to have turned out so badly?

For Rachel’s twenty first birthday I had asked her to choose a destination of her choice and we would fly out there for a few days. She chose New York, so in November off we went! At the time we took the trip Rachel, her partner Craig and their two children, had been living with us. They had sold their home, but the house they were to move into was a new build and unfortunately the project was running behind schedule and was not ready. So they moved in with my husband, my two sons and me for a few weeks. Except that the few weeks quickly became a few months. Whilst it had been demanding, work wise, with eight of us in the house, it had been lovely to have my daughter around the house again and to have the opportunity to spend time together. Her earlier unplanned departure from the nest left hurts and questions on both sides. We were able to use the time now to talk and rebuild our relationship. The timing of this trip could not have been better.

As we jetted off, my sons Ted and Andrew were being looked after by my husband, Phil and Rachel’s children Ben and Ashleigh by her partner, their father Craig. We laughed as we left, wondering whether the two men could cope without us – knowing that they would, but hoping not as quite as well as we would.

On the train journey down to Gatwick and at the airport itself Rachel’s mobile phone was buzzing with texts to and from Craig. My phone remained silent and I felt no inclination to pick it up and begin the ritual of I miss you when in fact it was a joy and relief to be away from the home environment, if only for a long weekend. We were soon on the plane and heading for New York, excited at the prospect of where we would go and what we would do. As girls do, we hit the shops, grabbed every bargain in sight, chopping off the price labels in order that we could be a bit lenient with the truth on our return home about how much things actually cost. We did all the sights of St Ellis Island, the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, Ground Zero where the Twin Towers had once stood and of course, Madison Square Gardens where we saw the New York Nicks play basket ball. We ate, we laughed, we shopped and ate some more. It was a lovely few days in which I could escape from the realities of home.

Living and dealing with someone who drinks is like being on a treadmill that you cannot get off. The fear and anxiety never ends. Every time I went to work I would wonder when I got home if my husband would be drunk or sober; whether it would be a happy atmosphere or a tense one; whether I could relax and unwind or whether I needed to tread on thin ice whilst he hopefully began to sober up. Many times he would call whilst I was at work and I could tell from his speech that he had been drinking. I would ask, Are you all right? and would be told time and time again I’m fine, why? On those occasions when I got home invariably he would be in the kitchen attempting dinner and would stand there, swaying with the drink, believing somehow that I would not notice. I did notice, every time I noticed and every time I would be crushed that he had broken his word and had had a drink again.

Once he knew I suspected him, there would be hours of denial and questioning of my ability to trust him.

How can I get better, when even my own wife does not believe me? Why can you not just support me in this, I am trying so hard and all you do is accuse me of drinking….

Many times I would begin to question my own judgement. Had I got it wrong, was I unfairly pointing the finger? What if he really was sober, how awful was it of me suggesting that he was drunk? I honestly began to doubt myself and my ability to make a good judgement call. I would begin to feel guilty that I had doubted him and criticised myself as a wife that I could not be supportive. I had been married before. Well actually I had been married three times before – but that is another story for another time, but I so desperately wanted this marriage to work. It had to, how could I possibly have screwed up again?

Not once would he just admit to the drinking. I had to find the hidden bottles or find him collapsed having passed out, before he would change his demeanour into that of a little boy found caught with his hand in the cookie jar. All the attempts to say sorry would follow, with remorse and self loathing. After a period of years the apologies for lying and the promises never to do it again became hollow and meaningless. Any promise would be broken within weeks and the lying would begin again. Money began to go missing and this was used for his drinking habit. It was always cash, so the ‘Off Licence’ would not be visible on the bank statements. He was good at hiding it, but behind the scheming I knew that there was remorse; real remorse and utter self loathing. I knew that he hated the fact that he drank and was unable to control his craving for it; that the hope of trying to stay off the booze was shattered again. It was hard for him as it is hard for anyone who has a problem with drink – but just because it is hard does not mean it cannot be controlled and managed, especially if not managing it has a price to pay. That price can be a high one – a wife, a family or even a job.

Spending time in New York away from him and the home gave me time to think about what I wanted and how I could deal with the situation. As I said, I felt absolutely nothing – I did not miss him, did not want to phone him or talk to him and certainly was not in a rush to get home to be with him. In my heart of hearts I knew that it was over. Our relationship of seven years was over and I knew that on my return there would be changes which would inevitably begin the long process of parting. That would be painful and disruptive for the children, especially for Andy who was only eight years old.

Andy was my youngest son and whilst my husband was not his biological father, he had met me when Andy was one year old. Andy had therefore grown up with Phil as the only father he knew. He knew he was his step father, but called him Dad and looked up to him with unreserved faith and trust. At eight years old, everything his Dad did, Andy wanted to do. He was his little shadow. My eldest son Ted was sixteen and had quite a different relationship with Phil which was more volatile and there were often verbal explosions between the two of them. Ted had no patience for his drinking and was becoming more and more protective of me as he became more aware of the impact that the drinking was having.

I decided on my return that I would need to have an open conversation with Phil whilst he was sober and tell him that I could no longer cope with the current situation, then just wait for the fall out of that decision. Rachel and I packed our bags which were stuffed full of goodies from New York and left the hotel for the airport. Rachel was visibly excited about getting home to see her children, Ben and Ashleigh and was also excited about seeing Craig as she had really missed him. She had bought him a New York sweatshirt amongst other things and talked about him non stop on the trip.

We had had a fantastic time and it was lovely to spend some one to one time with my daughter. We dined out every night and packed each day so full that every night we literally fell into bed exhausted. Then of course there was the mandatory shopping and heading off to Bloomingdales just so we could walk out with our Little Brown Bags. I just wanted to get every part of New York that I could back in the suitcase. Home with me came the New York Nicks tickets to the basketball game we saw at Madison Square Gardens, sports shirts with New York emblazoned on them, mugs from Bloomingdales, Dolce and Gabbana jeans, striking boots that were so New York and chocolate kisses from Hershies.

We arrived at the airport and queued at the luggage check in for Virgin Atlantic. Whilst waiting a stewardess approached the front of the queue and advised that the flight we were booked on had been over booked and would we mind waiting until the next flight. Rachel, desperate to get home immediately said no. I enquired as to the delay that would be incurred if we took the next flight. She told us that we would be landing only fifteen minutes after our booked flight and as compensation we would be upgraded to first class.

We’ll do it I said.

We boarded the plane and First Class was really first class. There was any amount of drink and food that we could eat, pyjamas to change into should we wish to sleep and even a massage for head and shoulders in a little beauty booth next to the bar. Well we felt like a million dollars, but all too soon our flight was touching down in London. We headed for Kings Cross to catch the Great North Eastern Railway (GNER) train service up to York. As I worked for GNER I had travel passes for first class and we continued our journey in style.

Rachel phoned home to let the men know when we would be arriving but there seemed to be an atmosphere. Something that Rachel had said in an earlier phone call about our exploits in New York had been misinterpreted and the boys had believed that in the evenings we were simply heading out to the bars in order to pull. Like we would have energy after all the shopping we had done! It seemed to have bye-passed both of them that we would neither have the inclination or desire, due to the fact that we were already involved in relationships.

Nevertheless something had gone and got the guys all stirred up and they were not happy. I heard Rachel tell Craig what time our train would be arriving into York but then her face fell. When I asked what the matter was, she said sadly,

They said we can make our own way home. They are not coming to the train station to pick us up.

She was crushed. All she had talked about whilst we were away was Craig this and Craig that. She had bought him loads of presents from New York and was so excited about getting home. She looked so sad as we continued up to York. I tried to make light of the situation and suggested that they might change their minds in the next hour or so and be there anyhow. But I was wrong. There was no sign of them as we got off the train, with all of our luggage. Quite a different picture to the send off we got – all smiles, waves and shouts of have a lovely time. Well we did and this was our welcome home.

We quickly got a taxi outside the station and headed for home. No sign of anyone to help us in with our bags and the atmosphere, when we got through the door, you could have cut with a knife. As soon as Rachel walked into the living room Craig started, with

Don’t you ever think you are …….

I blotted the rest of the barrage out and gave the kids a hug before taking my case upstairs. Due to the long flight and the fact that Phil had not even come out of his study to say hello, I decided just to head upstairs and to take a long hot bubbly bath. So whilst it was running I got all the things out of my case ready to either wash or put away. As I climbed into the bath Phil wandered into the bathroom,

What have you to say for yourself? he said.

Great opening line I thought.

Well hello to you too. Yes, I have had a lovely time, I replied sarcastically. "And just before you start, if you think you

Vous avez atteint la fin de cet aperçu. Inscrivez-vous pour en savoir plus !
Page 1 sur 1


Ce que les gens pensent de Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

0 évaluations / 0 Avis
Qu'avez-vous pensé ?
Évaluation : 0 sur 5 étoiles

Avis des lecteurs