I am on my way to collect a envelope that contains one of the last things my beloved sister's hands will touch.

Inside it are her fingerprints, taken days after she died on July 16, less than a month before she would have turned 52.

They will later be sent to a jeweller, the unique interplay of ridges and lines immortalised onto a necklace that I now treasure.

(Image: Caroline Wilson) “It’s stage 4, sorry weed (our nickname for each other) xx”, was how she broke the awful news to me in September 2016.

It was typical that she was was more concerned about my feelings when she sent that text  – the awfulness of the day has erased the exact date from memory.

Older by two years and eight months, she automatically assumed the role of protector even while contemplating the worst possible news.

Caroline and Lorraine at their childhood home in Spean Bridge, Lochaber Caroline and Lorraine at their childhood home in Spean Bridge, Lochaber (Image: Newsquest staff) Later in a family room at Glasgow Royal Infirmary close to where delighted parents carried their newborns in carriers out of the hospital, the surgeon looked at our distraught faces and gently asked, “Which one of you is it?”.

In the weeks after her death I pass a new government campaign poster that reads, ‘The early bird has more treatment options’ and my heart aches.

It was almost a full year after first visiting her GP that she was diagnosed with Stage 4 High-grade Serous Ovarian Cancer, the most common type of a relentlessly cruel disease that claims 4,100 lives every year in the UK - 11 every day.

She went to the doctor in October 2016 and despite experiencing very little in the way of symptoms (slight bloating, mild discomfort) she told her doctor that she was concerned about the disease.

'Grief hits me like a train after the funeral' 'Grief hits me like a train after the funeral' (Image: Newsquest staff) The GP was on the ball and arranged a blood test to check her levels of CA125, the tumour marker that rises in some women with ovarian cancer.

Her numbers were in the 50s – levels above 35 are considered high-  but values can vary slightly and there can be other, more benign reasons for a rise which is why it is not currently used to screen for the disease.

A specialist arranged two ultrasounds scans which both came back clear. Then in January 2017 her GP called to say another consultant had scored her risk of ovarian cancer at 0%. We breathed a sign of relief and carried on with our lives.

My sister's symptoms were variously attributed to Coeliac Disease, Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) and fibroids, a common experience amongst women who are later diagnosed with the cancer.

(Image: Newsquest staff) However, her CA125 levels continued to rise and she was not offered a CT scan until much later that year when we were told the cancer had spread and was not curable.

My sister had access to all the - quite limited - drugs available including Parp Inhibitors, which allowed her to live a full life despite debilitating side-effects. 

Walking from Kinlochleven to Fort William in August last year Walking from Kinlochleven to Fort William in August last year (Image: Newsquest staff)

While her early career was in the arts in Glasgow she re-trained as a counsellor and it was there that she found her 'calling'.  Helping others diverted her from her own troubles I think and she quickly built up a long list of clients.

We will never know if a CT scan would have picked up the disease and I hope I can leave the excruciating ruminations on this here on this page. 

However one of the doctors she saw before she was diagnosed said her case had “changed her practice”.

With no screening tool ovarian lags behind other female cancers in research and survival rates and 70% of women are diagnosed at stage three or four. 

Days before she died, when the doctor sat on her bed and coolly said, "We gave it our best shot " my sister told her that other women, newly diagnosed with late stage ovarian cancer on her ward, had felt more hopeful after hearing her story.

Lorraine and Caroline on holiday in AlicanteLorraine and Caroline on holiday in Alicante (Image: Newsquest staff) My heart swells with pride to think of the courage it must have taken to comfort those other, much older, women in her last days.

Grief hits me like a train after her funeral and a wake that was everything I hoped it would be - full of music and poetry and warm recollections from her many friends. 

Lorraine was a talented singer Lorraine was a talented singer (Image: Katie Noble) Rationally I know she has died but it seems unfathomable that ICE (in case of emergency) won’t pop up on my phone for the seventh time on most days.

Small things unravel me; unspent gift cards in her purse, packets of folded-over baking flour in her cupboard, the jeans that smell of her oil paints and geranium plants that continue to bloom. The sandals she wore on our treasured mini-breaks to Alicante.

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Driving into a supermarket car park I am reminded of the day we shopped for a celebratory meal after good test results - a momentary break for our family, including our parents, from the relentless ordeal of blood tests and scans.

She is everywhere in Glasgow’s west end in its shops and cafes and museums and the pavements where we ran together, usually arguing over the route or who was being left behind.

She was bright red lipstick and gold hoop earrings - worn even during freezing loch swims. Clothes swap parties, scones and Oscar all-nighters. Good coffee and crisp toast - always cooled before buttering.

I will turn 50 next year and when I am not weighed down by grief there is the sense that I must make the most of the years I have left. Not in a bucket-list frenzy of travel, ambitions and goals but very simply doing more of the things I enjoy, spending time with friends and family, including my other sibling Ewen and trying to worry less.

(Image: Newsquest)Our family is blanketed in support by her friends and mine who collect a 'nice things' fund for us to brighten the difficult days ahead. 

I smell the oil the priest gently placed on her forehead while I am weeding her garden in the pouring rain and feel her presence.

Live music and theatre and comedy bring solace, where I can feel the support of a friend and there is no requirement to talk. 

My biggest consolation, is my niece Patti, who turned 16 in the weeks after her mother's death and astonishes me every day with her bravery.

I’m grateful to Lorraine’s husband Mark, who looked after her so tenderly. 

There is gratitude too for the unwaveringly devoted care and kindness of the nurses in Ward B1 of the Beatson. A fund in Lorraine's name raises more than £7000 for the charity in days, a reflection of how much she was loved.

(Image: Newsquest) Cancer is only a small part of her life story and it is to her credit that many people had no idea she was so unwell.

When I remember my lovely sister, who had the biggest smile, I try to think of the riotous fun of every social gathering in her presence, our unbreakable bond that defied any harsh words and sisterly bickering and a life lived to the full. Up until the moment she died she was surrounded by love, which is really the most any of us can hope for.

Symptoms of ovarian cancer include;  pain swelling, or pressure in the abdomen or pelvis, persistent bloating or a feeling of fullness in the stomach and a sudden or frequent urge to urinate.

September is Gynaecological Cancer Awareness Month. For advice and support visit Ovarian Cancer Action.