May we introduce you to Kirsty, who is here to share her story about coping with a breast cancer diagnosis alongside other long-term health issues.
Kirsty described living under the shadow of acute Ulcerative Colitis for 21 years before finding a lump in her breast last April. In Kirsty's story, she describes with candid honesty and humour how she dealt with tests for cancer whilst managing relationships with her loved ones.
In this first of two blogs telling Kirsty's story, you will hear Kirsty's experience as she told it to us.
"I thought that I had been given my slice of bad luck with my health until last year. On April 28th I found a lump in my left boob whilst in the shower. My sister had had breast cancer 3 years previously, so I had taken to regularly checking my own and thank goodness I had. My breasts are small, so the sudden appearance of a lump was very obvious to me. That Saturday I got out of the shower, shampoo in my hair and walked across the room to my partner and asked him to feel where I was pointing to. He did, and simply looked up at me without saying a word. That silence spoke volumes."
"I called my sister, and she told me that it would be nothing and just wait until Monday to see the doctor. I called my other sister, who has had cysts and lumps in her boobs for as long as I can remember, and she told me to call 111. I was at the Lister Hospital within the hour and the doctor didn’t need to be guided to the lump as she found it instantly. This was the beginning of a terrifying and life changing period of my life."
"I was fast tracked to the breast clinic at the QE11 and I chose my darling friend, Dani, to take me. I didn’t want the sister who had been through it to tell me what to expect, I didn’t want my other sister to tell me it would just be a cyst, I didn’t want my partner, who lost both his parents to cancer and wasn’t handling things very well, so I chose Dani. My Cancer Secretary. Dani has the incredible ability to witter on about anything and nothing and take my mind away from whatever is concerning it. She was THE most epic choice of companion on that day and from there onwards. After 3 mammograms, an ultrasound, a biopsy and a staple in my poor boob, we were sent home with the knowledge that it was suspicious, and I had to wait for the results of the biopsy to determine the treatment going forward. I can’t sugar coat the fact that those weeks before they told me what and how they were going to treat me were the most terrifying of my life."
"People’s reactions to my diagnosis were strange. There were the criers (not helpful). The ‘if anyone can beat this, you can’ people who were the worst because at the time I didn’t know if I would and that was a lot of pressure! One person bagsied taking me wig shopping (we are not good friends so just rude). And my mother, who when I told her that I had the big C, I also mentioned that every cloud has a silver lining as if I had to have a mastectomy, they would take fat from my tummy to rebuild the boob. Her response was ‘well, do ask them to take some from your bottom too…’ why was I surprised? This is the woman who used to traumatise my school friends on the school run through her choice of words'
"The weird thing about breast cancer is that like me, you might experience no symptoms. You just have a lump in your breast that you want to cut out yourself as the thought of it growing inside you, and potentially killing you, is impossible to fathom. But people treat you like you’re fragile and give up a seat for you, rub your arm and put their heads on one side as they talk to you. You feel like a total fraud as you feel no different than you did the day before you found out. Both my partner and best friend have had horrible experiences of cancer and have lost very important people. They both found my humour around it unspeakable!"
"I loved asking my boys (18 and 20) to mow the lawn or empty the dishwasher for me. They would tell me to f*** off and I would tell them that they had to because I was dying of cancer. Not funny for the afore mentioned. I remember a day when we went to our great friend’s house for lunch and she answered the door and greeted bestie and partner with hugs and kisses but when she got to me, she said ‘ooooh Kirsty, you’re looking a bit cancery today!’ It wouldn’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but that was the treatment I needed at a really scary time. That old adage, ‘if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry’ has never been so relevant. I regularly upset my partner with the way I dealt with it with humour, but I will never apologise for that. It was happening to me and that was my way of handling it."
"When it came down to it, at the beginning all I needed was my boys, my dogs and my Cancer Secretary Dani. Having to worry about other people’s emotions was not on my agenda. Neither were people who I barely knew, sending me well-meaning messages with what I should or shouldn’t eat or drink or breathe….don’t eat bacon, no sugar, almond kernels were 100% the cure . At the time I hadn’t been told whether it was really nasty or just nasty – that stuff was just overwhelming and if you are reading this, remember that if someone you know receives the worst news ever, hold back until that person asks for your thoughts. It’s too much."
Thank you Kirsty for sharing your story so far.
Please do watch this space for the next part of Kirsty's blog. If you're looking for other guest blogs, you can meet Laurel and read about writing for release and renewal here and find Brian's story 'Cancer can't take my sense of humour'.
If you're looking for support with breast cancer tests and diagnosis, you can find our breast cancer forums here.
