- Cathy Megson-McAllister dared to bare it all after losing loved ones to cancer
- She losing her mum, dad and beloved husband Barry to cancer gave her motivation to fundraise
- While Cathy hadn’t imagined she’d pose for a charity calendar, she found an untapped well of confidence thanks to friends
- Here, Cathy from Macclesfield, SA, tells her story
I nervously fiddled with the pearls on my necklace as I waited for the photographer to take my picture.
“Are you ready, ladies?” she asked.
Wearing nothing but my pearls and an apron to protect my modesty, I wasn’t sure that I’d ever be ready.
“Think so,” I said through gritted teeth as I held my smile.
This wasn’t just any photoshoot, I was posing nude for a charity calendar to raise funds for the Cancer Council – and I was the model for May.
It was a cause close to my heart. In 2004, my dad Merv, 81, was diagnosed with mesothelioma and asbestosis.
It was a shock for the whole family.
As my mum, Monica, and I supported him through treatment, I sought comfort in a new companion, Barry, 59.
He was the local plumber, so we’d known each other for years, and when I told him the news about Dad, he shared he was grieving his mum.
We kept spending time together and eventually fell in love.
The following year, I found a lump on the side of my neck and went to the local GP who sent me for an ultrasound.
It was thought I had a benign body tumour, and the following month I was booked into hospital to have it removed.
But waking up three hours later, the surgeon approached me.
“I’m so sorry Cathy, you’ve got non-Hodgkin lymphoma,” he explained.
I felt a pang of fear. How could this be?
Non-Hodgkin lymphoma: Signs and symptoms
- Painless swelling of a lymph node
- Unexplained fever
- Excessive sweating, especially at night
- Loss of appetite
- Unexplained weight loss
- Tiredness
- Itchy skin
Source: Cancer.org.au
Mum and Dad were devastated when I told them, as was Barry.
“I’ll support you,” he said, pulling me in for a hug.
With my him by my side, I knew I could fight it.
In October 2005, I started treatment.
“Let’s get married,” Barry suggested one day.
“That’ll be something to look forward to!” I beamed.
We’d tie the knot in Vanuatu and thinking about it helped me through.
But midway through my 80 days of treatment, our family received another blow. Mum was diagnosed with liver and bowel cancer.
“I’ll be right,” she assured me. “You focus on your own battle.”
I did my best to follow her wishes, but having both parents fighting for their lives was heartbreaking.
In May, Barry and I went to Vanuatu with our best friends, Janine and Paul, and married on the beach.
“I’ll be by your side no matter what,” Barry vowed.
“Me too,” I promised.
Soon after our return, Mum passed away at 81. Weeks later, Dad, 83, went, too.
It was hard knowing they’d succumbed to the horrid disease I’d managed to beat.
I took solace in knowing they’d had a wonderful 62-year marriage.
Two years later, in 2008, it was time to give back to the community.
Through the local seniors club I’d founded years before, I announced we’d hold a Big Morning Tea to fundraise for the Cancer Council.
“Bring some tasty treats and I’ll supply the tea,” I told everyone.
Weeks later, we gathered for the event and served up Anzac biscuits, scones and sandwiches.
“We’ve raised over $900,” I said to Barry afterwards.
“Amazing!” he replied.
Since then, it’s been an annual tradition.
Then, in April 2016, Barry and I were holidaying in our caravan when he started feeling extremely lethargic.
Back home, he was sent for tests and we got the results the following week.
“I’m so sorry. You have an aggressive form of acute myeloid leukaemia,” the doctor said. “It’s terminal.”
He predicted Barry only had weeks left.
Devastated, I wrapped my arms around my husband. Hadn’t cancer plagued us enough?
“I want you to hold the Big Morning Tea as normal, even after I go,” Barry told me later. “It’s really important.”
He was too ill to make it to the event that year, but I showed him a video of it when I got home, which he loved.
Then, two days later, on May 20, he passed away, aged 70.
“Goodbye, my love,” I said sadly.
With Barry’s final wishes in mind, I carried on fundraising.
“We have to do something to raise more funds,” my friend Janet suggested. “What about a nudie charity calendar?”
I nearly spat out my tea! But she was serious.
I’d never imagined getting my gear off before a camera but it was for such a good cause and I know Barry would’ve got a good laugh out of it…
“Let’s do it,” I agreed.
I was surprised how many other ladies were willing to pose nude for the charity calendar, too.
At first I felt shy as I posed in my Cancer Council apron, but with my friend Eileen beside me, we had a good giggle.
Other women posed with St Patricks, Easter, and Halloween-themed props.
For our final month, December, all 21 women piled into a living room and hid our nude bodies behind Christmas presents.
We giggled as we strategically held our wrapped presents to protect our modesty.
“You are the gifts,” the photographer encouraged as she snapped away.
Later, we photoshopped our friend Trevor into the picture. We wanted him to be involved, but he wasn’t allowed in while we were in the buff!
We sold the calendars through our network of friends and family, and they were bought as far away as the UK and Canada.
“They’re fantastic,” customers told us.
I was ecstatic.
Over the years, we’ve raised more than $200,000 for the Cancer Council and I’ll never give up.
In 2024, we’re planning to release another nude calendar.
I’ll do anything to prevent other families from suffering at the hands of cancer, even if it means posing in my birthday suit.
For info or to support visit cancer.org.au.
