Adele Roberts: ‘My GP told me I was too young for cancer. She sent me for tests anyway and saved my life’ | Radio
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Silence does not sit well with me. I am the oldest of six children, so my early years were chaotic. Every day was an adventure; the house was filled with music, laughter and chatter. If I’m alone at home now, the TV is always on.
Racism was everywhere when I was a child. Mum’s parents were from Barbados, Dad was white English: mixed relationships were not common in the late 1970s. At home in Stockport he felt safe, but away from home there was abuse. We lived in Skem for a while [Skelmersdale] – I heard the N word every day.
Mom and dad are grafts. She was always helping people on the estate and he worked on construction sites from dawn to dusk to provide. I used to feel guilty working in the media. DJing is great, but it’s button pushing. I couldn’t shake the idea that I needed to work harder for the wonderful life I had.
Private school the scholarship changed my life. I saw how others lived, opportunities presented themselves, and I learned what was possible. We could never afford it – even my uniform was paid for by a scholarship. I’ve never been treated differently there, although I’m not sure anyone understands where I’m from.
Stubborn is my worst habit. I’m not backing down. I’m slowly learning to admit I’m wrong after the moment is up, but in the heat of it I still can’t.
I get my BBC pass it felt like a real moment. Mom and Dad finally accepted that being a DJ was not a phase I would grow out of. That I won’t go back to finish university. I knew they were proud that day.
My GP told me I was too young for cancer. Still, he sent me for tests that saved my life. I was 42, fit and in my prime when I received my diagnosis. As I waited to hear how serious it was, I promised myself: if I survived, I would tell the story. Reading other people’s stories comforted me while I was struggling. Sharing mine is the least I can do.
I was told I didn’t have cancer it was the most beautiful moment. A whole year of worry, pain and fear flew out of my body. Cancer has made me a better person. I stopped worrying about the stupid stuff. I appreciate the privilege of being healthy. I traded my cockiness for gratitude.
Lesbian representation the media still has a long way to go. Inclusion often means gay man – we need more space for the rest of the LGBTQ+ letters.
Sorry I didn’t spend enough time with mom. She died earlier this year. I left Radio 1 to be with her and we had an amazing summer together. For years I sacrificed that for my career. I shouldn’t have.
Prince William he texted me regularly. Will and Kate came on Radio 1 to wish me luck before I ran the London Marathon. He told me that when he worked in the air ambulances, he used to listen to me on the early breakfast show and sometimes text with a fake name to say hello.
There’s Lauryn Hill lyrics: “Everything could be so simple, but you prefer to make it difficult.” This was my approach to past relationships. Then I met my friend Kate and realized you just know when it’s meant to be – now it feels like the easiest thing in the world. A lot of “Yes dear” helps too.
My stoma’s name is Audrey. Naming it helps you bond and get used to it. Mine looked like the plant from Little Shop of Horrors: Audrey II. She keeps me alive – and that’s beautiful. I am determined to be loud and proud of her – so many people are made to be ashamed of theirs.
after the promotion of the newsletter
Personal Best by Adele Roberts is published by Hodder Catalyst and is out now
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