Exactly eight years ago I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was one of the worst days of my life. I have always been afraid of death, the thought of anything happening to someone I love terrifies me though I had never before been faced with, nor even thought of, my own mortality.
At first I was told my tumour was grade one, new and very small. I would probably not need chemo, just radiotherapy after an operation to remove it.
A month or so later, following surgery which lasted longer than I had been lead to believe, the news was a different, terrifying story. My cancer was fast growing, very aggressive stage 3, grade 3.
Not only would I need radiotherapy but I would also need chemotherapy too. I would feel very poorly because the chemotherapy would have to be aggressive to fight the cancer. I would loose my hair.
The operation had lasted longer than expected because the tumour had grown so much, the doc took away13 lymph glands, cancer was found in three of them. This was as serious as it got.
I was told, in no uncertain terms, that I had to have the treatment, without it I would die. What went through my head was would I suffer the treatment, feel dreadful for months, and die anyway?
I had to trust the doctors, we were told to cancel the holiday we had just booked so I could undergo chemo.
Chemo is not nice, I won't lie to you. It makes you vomit, though they do give you anti sickness medication. It did not work for me first time though and I had to have the district nurse call twice a day to inject me, even then I was sick for 5 days before the drugs took effect. I told my oncologist how sick I had been when I saw her before my second chemo session and she doubled the meds. I felt sick for a week or so, I was sick a couple of times, but mostly it was kept under control. Then there is the exhaustion. My friends often remarked that I was somewhere else and that's often how I felt, on another planet! I passed out a couple of times too, had to use the toilet a lot and could not taste my food, everything was like cardboard, very bland. Come to think of it my taste buds have never fully recovered and I have to try and make meals extra tasty so I can enjoy them!
Just before my second chemo session my hair had all but fallen out. I had a shower the day before my second session and saw most of my hair disappear down the plug hole. I cried. A hairdresser who sorted my wig out shaved off the rest and I was mortified. It didn't help when hubby said I looked like my dad! The wig was hot and itchy so I wore a bandana most times, or a be any hat. Nobody saw me without my head covered apart from hubby, I could not wear a hat to bed. I wanted to though! My daughter once arrived in my bedroom and caught me unexpectedly without my scarf, she shot back out again with a shocked look on her face calling sorry, sorry mum. I hated that, I did not want her to see me that way, I'm her mum, I was meant to look after her, not the other way around!
Chemo is given by drip, it can take 30 minutes or an hour and a half, depending which kind you have. Best take a book or magazine, and some sweets to suck! A family member or friend is another good thing to take, to keep you company. The nurse puts a needle into the back of your hand and the drugs drip slowly into you. You go be very two or three weeks for treatment, depending on what drugs they give you. I had herceptin too after chemo finished as it was discovered my tumour was 2 positive, just to add insult to injury. So I had to attend hospital for a further year after already having 8 months chemo, and 3 weeks radiotherapy. I now see my oncologist annually, I also see my surgeon annually so visit hospital twice a year. Then there are the visits for mammograms. I am sick of the place to be honest!!! I have to see the consultants for ten years as my cancer was so aggressive, I also take hormones every day, other breast cancer patients only see the specialists for 5 years but I don't do things by halves!!
Oh and one last thing. Go for your mammograms! That's how my cancer was found, a routine mammogram at the age of 49 (because I was approaching my 50th birthday) and I never even suspected I had a problem,, therefore I did not want to attend! I'm glad I did, if I had not gone for my routine mammogram that February day in 2005, I might not have been here to tell the tale 8 years later!
If you are reading this because you have been diagnosed and need some support the very best of luck. I got through it. I'm still here. You can do it too. Keep smiling. Xxx
