When Brian Greenley received a diagnosis of bowel cancer, he wanted a cure, not a letter from a woman he barely knew. But as he tried to make sense of his predicament, Alison Hitchcock – a woman he had met six months earlier on a short yoga holiday in India – offered to write letters to cheer him up.
They had nothing in common. She was 41, living in London, working for a City recruitment firm, and on the hunt for a husband. Brian was 52, living in Sunningdale, Berkshire, and happily partnered with Neil.
She thought he was slightly flaky, he found her aloof, but for the next three years, as Brian, now 65, battled three bouts of cancer and was given a mere ten percent chance of survival, Alison, now 54, wrote to him more than 100 times.
Brian charted his responses and his thoughts in a personal journal. While Alison’s letters were only ever meant to keep him amused, and his journal entries were written privately, together they tell a story of friendship, battling to stay alive and, above all, seeing the funny side of life.
Initially, Brian was sceptical about receiving letters from a virtual stranger, but by the time he received the all-clear from doctors, they had become best friends.
Alison: July 18, 2010
Dear Brian,
I have thought of you a lot since your diagnosis, so here I am, as promised, writing a letter to cheer you up. Apologies if I don’t write very much in this first letter but apparently I have a chronic iron deficiency. So, now I’m up to my eyeballs in spinach and watercress and suggest you do the same as you’re going to need all the iron you can get for your radiotherapy treatments.
I have been on another date with ‘my man’. I’m discovering he’s incredibly clever, using such words as ‘derivation’ and ‘reciprocity’. While we’re in bed. I suspect it may all end next week, however, as we’re off to Sadler’s Wells Theatre. I’ve put our names down for the free tango lesson.
Anyway, Brian, I must be off – the TV won’t watch itself. Hope you are keeping yourself busy, distracted and positive and that this letter has helped you do at least one of these things.
Much love, Alison
Brian: July 24
Returned home to a letter from Alison. Her stories were funny and made me smile but now I’m faced with the dilemma of whether to write back. I have nothing of interest to say. Think I’ll just text to say thank you.
Alison: August 1
My dear Brian,
So how are you doing? Laughing hilariously, I would imagine, at my latest comedy notepaper. This week I have been thinking about your daily trips to Reading for radiotherapy. I imagine you’ll quickly bore of the journey. You could liven things up by making rude words out of number plates.
If you like, Brian, I could pop over one day and we could drive to Reading together. Like a road trip. Thelma and Louise. I’m happy to bring a thermos flask and an oversized road map, so we look authentic.
Must go now.
All my love, Alison
Brian: August 5
Royal Berkshire Hospital, Reading
There was a long queue today. Tried to read a book to pass the time, but couldn’t. Re-read one of Alison’s letters. It did take me away from the awful reality of where I was. An elderly man, in a wheelchair, was being pushed in by a woman, her cardigan buttons done up the wrong way. Will this soon be Neil?
Alison: August 10
Dear Brian,
Neil looks a bit of a dish. Younger men generally are, aren’t they, because they’re younger. I find ‘my man’ very dishy. If we were the same age, I’d say he was average. Brian, are you buying lovely flowers every week? If you’re not, you should be. They will make you feel nice in moments of darkness.
Looking forward to seeing you and meeting Neil on the 15th. Shall I bring dessert? Let me know.
All my love, Alison
Brian: August 15
Very jolly lunch with Alison and the neighbours. They asked about her letters but she was quite guarded, like when I first met her in India. She’s not like that when she writes. As she left, I mentioned I didn’t feel up to writing letters back. She didn’t expect replies, she said. I promised to text to let her know future ones had arrived, should she send more. She seemed pleased.
Alison: September 30
Hi Brian,
I am feeling rather sorry for myself. Something’s happened and I’m sad and disappointed. My cloud is nowhere near as dark as yours, but if you can do it, then so can I. I’m not used to being miserable and don’t deal with it well, but following your example, I’m facing this cloud with calmness.
Thank you, Brian. I go to Spain on Sunday for a week of yoga and to search for my missing humour.
Lots of love, Alison
Brian: September 30
Heatherwood Hospital, Ascot
A double scan today – CT and MRI. Neil waited in the car. In the scanners I repeated my mantra: shrunken tumour, shrunken tumour. I will not have a colostomy bag. I’d rather the cancer took me.
Brian: October 15
Richmond Park
Didn’t expect the person I unburdened myself to would be Alison. A walk round Richmond Park was my excuse to get out of the house. I didn’t really expect her to be free to join me. I hadn’t expected her to be such a good listener. No judgement. No all-knowing wisdom. No pleading. Just being there. I asked about her broken heart. She said we’d talk about it another time. Bought her a coffee and cake instead.
Alison: November 21
Hi Brian,
I’d just like to give you my thoughts on hospital visiting. I have assessed your personality (and I know mine) and I can’t believe you will want anyone except family and Neil to visit. And let’s face it, there’s no fun for a visitor, sitting on the end of the bed listening to tales of what’s happened to the man opposite.
However, very happy to visit once you’re back home when we can have a cup of tea rather than having to sip on your lukewarm Lucozade. Of course, if you do want hospital visitors, I’ll be there in a shot, but I don’t think you will.
Lots of love, Alison
Alison: February 27, 2011
Dear Brian,
Apologies I haven’t written for a while. I’ve had nothing bizarre, entertaining nor crazy to tell you. However, as we walked back to the car in Bristol the other day, I realised how wrong I was. As you waxed lyrical about Dr H, you let slip one of the most ridiculous things I’d heard in ages. “She said the best treatment to kill cancer cells is a mixture of Vitamin C, aspirin, and copper. Much more effective than chemo,” you said.
“Sounds interesting,” I replied. “Is she recommending it for you?”
“Well,” you muttered. “It’s only actually licensed in Hungary. For dogs. But I thought I might give it a try.”
And right there, as we strolled in the Bristol sunshine, the craziness of life returned.
Alison: July 17
Hi Brian,
Thank you so much for coming down to Dorset. Sorry about the plastic spiders in your bed, the alarm clock going off at 3am and Billy’s baby tooth in your porridge. I hope it hasn’t put you off visiting again
Much love, Alison
Alison: September 12
Dear Brian,
I keep re-reading your text – no, not the one about your all-clear – but the one about how you nearly pulled in a health food shop! But coming back to your all-clear, it is the most wonderful, wonderful news. Speak soon, Brian.
Much love, Alison
Brian: January 18, 2012
The stage IV cancer I have has let us down. I can’t beat cancer. All that positive thinking, visualising – pointless! Cancer is back and it’s raging through our life again. I have let everyone down. I am a failure.
Alison: April 3
Hi Brian,
So, how was Egypt, I hear you ask? I was so looking forward to doing nothing, but my dear fiance’s idea of a perfect holiday is somewhat different. He’d packed his Dummies Guide to hieroglyphics and archeologist’s notebook! Off now, Brian. I have much Egyptian tat to arrange on my mantelpiece.
Much love, Alison
Alison: July 7
Dear Brian,
I know my letters are now less frequent and I’m disappointed with myself for that. Over a glass of wine last week, I met up with the ex-colleague. She wanted to hear about wedding plans and life in Dorset. I told her I didn’t really want to talk about it.
While other people see this as a cue to don a concerned face and dig to find the root of my silence, she merely nodded and said, “That’s okay.” I didn’t have to explain, justify nor seek understanding.
And so, I’d like to pass on that gift to you, Brian. Your concerns will come and they will go, but let no one judge you for it or demand to know why – and most of all, don’t judge yourself.
Much love, Alison
Alison: April 30, 2013
Dear Brian,
I’m in the middle of canape-gate. Can I put you in charge of canapes please? Oh, and Ben and I don’t want a cake but we know everyone likes a cupcake. And you make a nice cupcake. Don’t suppose you could rustle up 120 for the big day, could you? Remember, you are Head of Catering.
Do you remember the first letter I sent you? Little did we know then about the coming operations, chemotherapy, healing, wedding, and all-clear. My promise was to cheer you up while you were going through your cancer journey. But now you are at the end. So, no need for any more letters.
Or then again, maybe I could amend my original offer. How about if I’d said I’d write letters to cheer you up on your cancer treatments and thereafter till you get the five years all-clear? So, I think this means more letters to my wonderful friend.
Much love, Alison
Brian: June 17, 2022
Dear Alison,
Today is my 65th birthday. Yes 65! Let’s just pause for a minute to take that in. Since 2013 every one of my scans has shown “No Evidence of Disease”. If I spent time thinking about this, I become overwhelmed (and cry – getting rid of cancer hasn’t seemed to get rid of the crying).
I kept all your letters, you know? Still have them in a box, still read them, still smile at them. Of course, every text, email and phone message I received from loved ones back then was equally appreciated but they’re long deleted, each one only read or listened to once.
I wish everyone could have a friendship like ours, but I do believe that the most special friends turn up when you least expect them but most need them.
Love, Brian xxx
- Extracted by Jane Warren from From Me To You by Brian Greenley and Alison Hitchcock, (Spellbound Books, £9.99) and available via frommetoyouletters.co.uk/our-book
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