Signs I stopped caring about what other people think began to materialise approximately 17 years ago while I was reading a fashion article in The Guardian. The writer seemed to have got it into her head that no man over 30 should wear a hoodie, and instead they should just live in pullovers. This seemed like a personal affront at the time, as I was approaching 30, had quite a few hoodies in my wardrobe, and didn’t fancy a lifetime of choosing between round-neck and V-neck pullovers. So, I rejected the so-called fashion expert’s advice and kept my hoodies.

And now, more than 30 years after I was going to do it but didn’t, I’m going to buy a T-shirt that says “Teenage Lobotomy” on it. It doesn’t just say those two words. It’s a T-shirt originally released as part of the merchandise range for the movie Tank Girl, so the image shows her alongside those words. (Tank Girl being a fairly anarchic comic book character from the minds of Alan Martin and Jamie Hewlett.)

I didn’t do it at the time because I was worried about what people would think. Would they think I’d had a lobotomy? Would they have realised it was to publicise a film? And, what would my parents have thought if I’d come home from the shops with such a shirt?

So after spending many hours (over several trips) in the record shop contemplating the pros and cons of such a tshirt, I never took it to the till.

Now, 31 years on, I still won’t take it to the till. Instead, I’ll add it to my online basket and will click the checkout button and then wait eagerly for the delivery. And I’m completely massively excited about it.

I’m excited because it’s me saying that I don’t care what other people think. I don’t care whether they know about the film or the comic book. I don’t care that some people might think it’s strange. It’s me saying I’m doing things because I want to, not because other people want me to.

Maybe I should wear it to my consultation at the hospital in just over a week’s time, where I will be told just how much my cancer has spread in the past few months.

Yes, for anyone who hasn’t read my pieces before, I have incurable bowel cancer, and after bashing it on the head for three years with all manner of dangerous drugs, it is thought that the cancer is fighting back. This means I’m likely to be one of the 89% of people with stage four bowel cancer who don’t live longer than five years.

I should wear it because when it was first on sale I knew what I wanted to be but didn’t know how to get there. Now I’ve got to be a journalist and am trying to improve as many lives as I can before I die.

So it would be a symbol of how the fight continues. Cancer might be fighting back, and it will eventually win, but it can’t stop my mission of improving the lives of people with cancer.

The Daily Express’s Cancer Care campaign got a victory back in February when the then Health Secretary, Wes Streeting, promised a personal cancer plan for each patient, including mental health support both during and after treatment.

And now, amid all the political skullduggery that will be witnessed in Westminster over the coming months, I’m still working behind the scenes to ensure this plan doesn’t go off track.

I’d like to say it’s what Tank Girl would do, but I’m really not sure, as I haven’t seen the movie nor read the comics. My excuse is that the film wasn’t in cinemas near me for long, and I don’t recall seeing it in the local video rental place.

These days it’s easier to track down films from years ago, thanks to an invention called the internet, so I’ll make sure I watch the film before my T-shirt is delivered.

And I’ll keep doing things I want to do, until I die – which I don’t want to do.