I've been thinking a lot recently, which as you know, for a person like me can be quite dangerous. I've been thinking about what makes me, me. I've been thinking about all the Pippas I used to be, and somehow all the Pippas I still am. I think there are about 27 of us masquerading as one Pippa in a trench coat.

Well... it's only taken me nearly a year to write this. Not because I've forgotten what happened. Quite the opposite, so much went on, so much that even now I almost can’t believe and have to keep checking in my medical notes that it did really happen.

Today is World Neuroendocrine Cancer Day. This cancer hides. It whispers. It waits. It doesn’t make itself obvious, or loud, or easy to find; it just changes everything before you even know it’s there. Most people don’t know what neuroendocrine cancer is. I didn’t either. It’s not the kind of cancer that gets headlines or fills shop windows with ribbons.

TL;DR at the end. However, I actually admit I can be wrong in the following, so you know, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime event. You’re probably better off reading the whole thing, because you’ll never see me admit it again.

800 calories a day. That’s been my life for the last month. Sometimes a little over, sometimes a little under. Always... Well awful. But this isn’t a fad diet. It’s to shrink my liver so the surgeon can actually get in there without needing a sat nav.

I promise I own more than one purple shirt, but if you were to judge my wardrobe based solely on these photos, you’d be forgiven for thinking otherwise. These are snapshots taken on or around the same day each month. Glimpses into my life. My gym selfies have always been a way to show progress. Determination.