Processing the information that I have cancer
I chose to shave my head and have my eyebrows tattooed before my first chemo.
Everyone is different but here’s how I reacted when I heard I had cancer. And then how I reacted when I heard it had spread and I needed chemo.
Finding out I had breast cancer was a shock. But not that much of a shock. I’d had a lump for nearly six months by the time I actually heard the word ‘cancer’. One of my best friends had had breast cancer and she was fine. And so had my mum. And she was fine too. I was young, healthy, the lump was tiny. There was no reason to think that my cancer journey would be any different from theirs.
I just wanted to get it done. I knew I’d have to have surgery. I knew immediately what my surgery choice was. The nurses said I’d probably have to have radiotherapy. And that I’d probably have to take Tamoxifen for a few years. It all seemed a bit inconvenient but very do-able and nothing to worry about. I wasn’t too scared. My husband took some time off work. My best friend came to stay to help after the surgery. I was super positive and just wanted to get back to normal.
Then I got my pathology report.
It turns out the cancer had already spread into my lymph nodes. Which was suddenly a game changer. ‘Chemo’ ‘Aggressive’ ‘Stage 3’ ‘PET scan’. It’s the waiting that’s the worst. And the unknown.
Forcing a smile with a new bald head. It’s surprisingly chilly !
My initial reaction? I was angry. I ran myself into the ground in fury and pushed myself so hard I puked. I pedaled on the turbo trainer like a mad woman, listening to angry teenage boy music on full blast, and mentally planning my own funeral. Dark, yes. Strange, maybe. But, weirdly, it helped me cope.
Getting in that PET scanner was like staring down the barrel of a gun. You don’t know whether you’re going to come out of it with metasteses or not (when cancer spreads to other areas). In that one scan you learn if your cancer is curable and you’ll go on to live a normal life. Or if it’s merely ‘treatable’ - we’ll do what we can, but sorry, you’re going to die.
I walked into that scan and immediately burst into tears. I will never forget the nurse who sat with me, holding my hand. She gave me Xanax and I will be forever grateful. I am extremely claustrophobic and scans are already a horrific idea. A scan where you roll the live or die dice - literally my worst nightmare.
Luckily for me, my scan was clear. I don’t really remember how I felt afterwards, but I know that day was one of the hardest parts of my whole cancer journey.
Before my first chemo, I shaved my head and got my eyebrows tattooed. It was radical but as my oncologist said, it put me in control in a situation which was out of control. I also completely stopped drinking alcohol.
My reasons !
I don’t know if I coped well or not. But I coped. I exercised every day during the waits. And I cuddled my kids that little bit harder. I went for walks in the woods and screamed at the trees. Then I put a smile back on a read stories to my babies.