Linda Nolan in her own words: How she took on cancer in feisty Daily Mirror columns

Linda Nolan laughed when she realised she would begin her very first dispatch as a new Daily Mirror columnist on the subject not of herself, but her very famous little sister, Coleen.

The Loose Women panelist announced that week she had discovered she had common skin cancer, basal cell carcinoma. Linda, who adored her siblings, was of course worried, but immediately wheeled out her characteristic dry wit.

“Upstaged, every time!” she cackled in the Irish lilt that had persisted from her early years in Dublin. She generally followed poignant news with a side dollop of humour; it was her way, her whole family’s way, she explained.

It was July 2023 and Linda had discovered in March her secondary breast cancer, first discovered in her hip in 2017, and then her liver in 2020, had spread to her brain. It was nearly 20 years since she had first been diagnosed with breast cancer in 2005, and she initially felt she’d reached the end of the road.

She was terrified, discussing how she’d lost little sister Bernie when her cancer also spread to her brain. She felt like she was mirroring her.

Yet the idea of writing a weekly column about her treatment and progress lifted her spirits. Linda would be the first to laugh that she enjoyed talking about herself - she liked ‘celebrity’. But it was more than that. She genuinely felt better for sharing what she was going through and perhaps giving others a lift along the way.

The columns which followed were without fail funny, even when they were desperately poignant. Some weeks she admitted she was “under the grey cloud” and had “had a few days in bed”, “not wanting to go out”. But even then, she could underline her emotion with a laugh.

Now after her tragic and sudden passing aged just 65, we want to honour Linda's wit, humour and generosity by sharing some of her most poignant, funny and revealing extracts....

Linda Nolan: Straight to the Heart Column 2023 - 2025

July 27, 2023

Linda was thrilled to meet her great niece, Maureen’s new baby granddaughter, and was emotional as she described it as one of the moments she was living for....

‘Yep, I'm well aware when you meet a baby you're the one who's supposed to be nursing them to sleep. What can I say? My beautiful new great-niece Marlie Francine and I were so comfortable when we met on Friday, we fell asleep in each other's arms.

Oh my god, she's gorgeous.

Meeting my sister Maureen's newest grandchild has been such a milestone for me since I was diagnosed, it's hard to describe what it meant. I sat on the sofa in May and all I could do was order baby clothes by the ton (I would stress the only designer purchased was St Michael).

Those clothes were going to fill my place. I thought we'd never meet. Now I'll get to see her in them all, if I can keep my eyes open. I'd be Sleepy for sure if the Nolans ever played the Seven Dwarfs (now there's an idea).’

August, 17, 2023

Linda wasn’t happy about needing a stairlift and was haunted by memories of Bernie getting her’s close to the end of her life, but naturally, she made a joke of it....

‘Words I never thought I'd say and certainly not with excitement: Lo, my stairlift has arrived!

After many weeks of waiting - and one nasty fall backwards down four steps - I can now get up and down Denise's stairs without calling for reinforcements.

Last Thursday, when the stairlift arrived, it was genuinely independence day. But lord, they hear me coming.

When you first strap in, it beeps like a reversing delivery truck.

Then it's a high-pitched 'Eeeeeeeeeee' until I reach my destination.

By the time I'm ready for take off, got the belt on, and got out again, it feels it takes about 10 minutes. I call down for a tea and say: "I'll be there in 10." I'm leaving 10 minutes early for everything!’

September 14, 2023

Linda always said it was the little moments of joy that kept her going when she was struggling and overwhelmed....

‘Six red buds have appeared on the rose in Denise's garden, one for each Nolan girl. It's called Dublin Bay, which is perfect for us. I bought it for her a while ago - I was looking for a rose called Linda, obviously, but couldn't find one at the time (outrageous).

The buds have grown because I mustered the energy and went out and deadheaded. I can't tell you how happy that makes me, the sense of achievement. I used to love gardening, before I got ill.

Since I found out the cancer had spread to my brain, I've been going out for lunches as often as possible with friends and family, making the most of every minute, creating special time. They'll put up a blue plaque for me at my favourite spot in the local park.

But I'm starting to realise it's the absolutely normal things - the regular life stuff - which is most special. Like deadheading a rose.

I also get a buzz when I clear up the plates after we've all sat down on the sofas in front of the telly for dinner (OK, bear with me?). I can't stand for long but I do what I can. Clearing the plates is life. All right, not all of it, you've got to hope. It's just good to be living it.’

October 5, 2023

Linda at her hilarious best describing her love for Strictly Come Dancing....

‘I have Angela Rippon's eyebrows. Naturally I wish I had her legs, too, but that's another matter.

It's absolutely true. Eyebrows are a frontline defence in the fight against Mr Potato Head when you lose your hair, and so I got mine tattooed for the first time in 2014, and yes, asked for Angela's.

Hers were the eyebrows of my dreams. I first noticed them when she used to read the news, and now here I am watching them glide and gallop across the Strictly ballroom as she performs gobsmackingly. She's as glamorous as always.

.

So I'd like to say thank you, Angela, your eyebrows mean more to me than ever today, but also thank you, Strictly. It's so uplifting to watch people have such a great time. If you're feeling a bit low it's the perfect medicine.

I tried to replicate some of the moves at my best friend's 60th on Friday. I forgot my stick but it didn't stop me, I was up there to Stevie Wonder, Michael Jackson, ABBA. I kind of forgot I had cancer, too, until the next day when I could only sleep.’

July 11, 2024

When she felt she had a valid point to make, Linda liked to use her columns to express her views and champion a cause or a charity. She eventually was able to use the chemotherapy drug Enhertu, and spoke out for women denied it....

‘Thirty-one people a day lose their lives to secondary, advanced breast cancer in the UK. I still can't believe it, and I'm going to be one of them.

Seeing 31 sets of boobs let loose in Westminster can't help but underline the point though.

Parliament has had a lot to say, but those stunning bosoms have voiced the only thing worth listening to as far as I'm concerned.

Hats (and bras) off to Nadia Sawalha and the group of women who went topless yesterday, some of whom are, like me, living with secondary breast cancer, and who have undergone mastectomies.

This was no joke: their brave stand was made to extend lives - including many of their own, and maybe mine.

They were calling for the drug Enhertu to be licensed for use in England for women with a particular type of secondary breast cancer, as it already is in Scotland.

The drug can extend life by months, but right now here in England, you are denied it. It makes me so angry saying it out loud.

While I'm waiting to find out if I'm medically suitable for it, many of these women, including Nadia's good friend, Hannah, know they are.

Yet they have zero control over getting it - and with cancer, you have precious little control already. A few months doesn't sound like much. To me, and people like me, every day means everything. It is why we fight.’

August 29, 2024

Linda was open about her struggle when her treatment stopped working and she needed to change chemotherapy....

‘After my results last week Maureen and I went for breakfast.

I sobbed when my consultant told me the tumours in my brain had grown. But somehow, afterwards, all that seemed right to do was to go and eat.

We went to our usual cafe, where I have two options. A full English where they know if "it's for Linda" to add an extra rasher. Or pancakes with berries - where they know when "it's for Linda" to send a bowl of ice cream with the bowl of cream.

Last Thursday I had a full English - followed by a bowl of ice cream.

As we sat and ate, more and more of my family and friends showed up.

There's a Linda's Treatment WhatsApp group and word had been sent out. My brother Brian and his wife Annie walked in, followed by Denise, then Anne. Thank God we all like to eat.

I just love it when everyone comes together. Weddings are preferable to tumour growth, but I'll take it. It seems to be what happens in times of trouble and strife, and I'm so lucky. In showbiz you have hundreds of acquaintances and few real friends - but I have so many, and many of them are my family.

When we got home though, I just needed to be on my own.

I went up to "tidy my bedroom" - like the good teenage 65-year-old I am - and let the news sink in. Then I didn't come out for a couple of days. Deliveroo Denise brought up tea, sandwiches and soup, and I stayed in bed. I watched Liverpool on the telly, and New Amsterdam on Netflix, and wallowed. You have to let yourself selfpity sometimes. When I used to ask: "Why us?", Bernie would reply: "Why not us?" But, you know - why us? Why me?’

October 10, 2024

Linda fell regularly during her final months, and often remembered Bernie’s similar struggles before her own death....

‘I clearly remember the day Bernie couldn't get out of her car. She and her husband pulled up outside our place in Blackpool and from upstairs I heard the kerfuffle. Her legs had stopped working.

"They just went," she told me once they finally got her inside. "Can I get you a glass of water?" I asked, desperately worried. "No, but I'll have a vodka mule," she said. This week the same happened to me. We'd been out for lunch but when it came to getting out of my brother Brian's car, I simply couldn't.

It's the hardest thing to explain. You feel completely helpless - nothing is within your control. You go to put weight on your legs and there's nothing there, so you fall back. Finally I managed to do it with a lot of help, but the wobbliness isn't going away (and no, I didn't hit the mules). I've now achieved the hat-trick - falling three times in a day. It hasn't proved a charm.’

October 31, 2024

‘Well, here's a first - I've got a black eye. Monday morning saw me clutching a pack of frozen bacon to my eyebrow, but I'd rather have it in a sandwich.

Honestly, we've got a sitcom right here.

Of course, I fell again. I'd got myself some juice and a croissant from the kitchen at around 7.30am and was taking my plate to the sink before my brother Brian arrived to take me to the hospital for my bloods.

As I walked across the kitchen, my legs just went. I had a passing realisation I was going to hit the dresser, and then I did.

I didn't pass out, I just lay there knowing Brian would be arriving in five minutes so I'd best hang on. By the time he did and helped me up - exactly what happened a few months ago, poor man - he said I had a comedy bump. But it wasn't very funny from where I was lying.

Naturally he couldn't find any frozen peas to clamp on it, or a bag of ice - despite our love of a G&T. Just the rashers.

"At least you can tell them you're bringing home the bacon," he said. And then off we went to hospital.’

December 12, 2024

In her final weeks, Linda began to contemplate her death more than she’d allowed herself to do before. She openly embraced her local hospice and the care they were already beginning to offer her....

‘There was laughter coming from the hospice when I arrived. A Christmas party was in full swing over in the wellbeing centre. It must be working, is all I can say.

I know, laughter's not what you expect, is it? It's not what I tend to think of when I think "hospice".

But I've been going regularly now for a while, for physio and reflexology, and it's all starting to feel a bit more? normal.

It's normally a quiet place, but they do all sorts here, including social groups - it was one of them having the party. They build a relationship with you before you make your final visit, so to speak. It sort of helps remove the elephant in the room.

The lovely nurse who met me was certainly oblivious to large animals. She came in like a bowling ball, northern and chatty, and asked me if I'd "thought about any arrangements". I must stress this wasn't our first meeting. She nursed Bernie and is just lovely. It was in my face, but at the same time I didn't mind. I need to talk about this stuff. And, being me, I've made very few "arrangements". She asked me straight if I'm afraid. And I replied that "yes, I am afraid of dying. And sad, too."

You can read more of Linda's poignant and honest columns here

*Linda was an Ambassador for Breast Cancer Now. For more information about symptoms or for help dealing with a diagnosis, visit their website breastcancernow.org.uk