There are very few words, particularly the four-letter variety, that have the ability to make us flinch nowadays but there is one that still makes me nervous.

It has six letters and when I said it last week I found myself lowering my voice, reluctant to say the word ... cancer.

People always react in the same way. "Oh, no," they say with dismay even though cancer is distressingly common. According to medical statistics, one in every three of us will suffer from it at some point in our lives.

Among those one in three is my aunt in Yorkshire, my mother's youngest sister. She is the only one of our family to remain unfazed by the doctors' recent diagnosis.

It could be something to do with the fact that both her parents, my grandparents, died of cancer, and she nursed them to the end. Then, most cruelly, her eldest son also died of the disease when he was 40.

So she is under no illusions. She knows the nature of the beast and is determined that life, her life, will continue as normal - until the cancer decides otherwise.

The same cannot be said of her close relatives and friends. We've been poleaxed by the news.

My aunt, you see, is one of the most alive, and loving every minute of it, people I know.

She has never had much money or material possessions but she has been blessed with an optimistic personality, a kind and generous nature - and a very pretty face.

That face is still pretty today and her strikingly youthful appearance (she could easily pass for my sister and my younger sister at that) is even now fooling the doctors and nurses at her local hospital.

It is not surprising that a fault she does have (no, she is not perfect!) is a slight tendency to fuss about her appearance. But then if people have been commenting on your good looks all your life, wouldn't you?

What has upset my aunt is the prospect of losing her hair. It is thick and stylishly cut and she has been told the chemotherapy she will have may cause its loss.

Her other concerns are losing her job - at 75 she still works part-time - and not having the strength to finish decorating her living room or the energy to babysit her newest love, her two-week-old great grandson.

One of my aunt's other passions is Brighton. She adores the Royal Pavilion and strolling along the Palace Pier. She finds the shops in The Lanes a delight and the floral displays in Preston Park a joy.

Usually, she comes here twice a year, though I think if she had the choice she would move to Brighton permanently.

We were discussing her next visit only last month. "Come for Easter," I said and she told me how nice that would be but that she had these pains in her stomach and she really didn't think she could make the journey.

The pains took her to the doctor's surgery and days later she was in hospital.

Now, instead of walking with me along the seafront this holiday weekend, she will be having chemotherapy. Visits anywhere, except to the hospital, are unlikely in the foreseeable future.

Yes, life's a bitch I feel like saying ... except that I know for certain my aunt would be the very first person to disagree.