So it was the 10th of May 2018. I can’t remember the weather, what I was wearing, what I’d had for breakfast or any other irrelevancies. All I remember about that day is it was the day I was told I had breast cancer. What the actual fuck? I’m a relatively healthy 36 year old. Never smoked, eat healthy most of the time (come on, we all love the occasional shit food) Yes I like a drink. In fact I love a drink, but does this warrant having a potential death sentence slapped upon me bonce? I think not! However, this was the case. I remember thinking what a ballache it was having to go to the hospital only to be told yet again that I had a dodgy right tit implant but my heart sank when the consultant called me in armed with a breast care nurse.
“So you came in the other week and had biopsies on the lump that you felt…..” Erm….yes get on with it…. “Well, unfortunately its been confirmed” BREAST CANCER! WHAT?? Im 36 for Christ sake. Well that was a massive punch to my face! The whole rest of the day was an absolute blur. I remember breaking down and apologising to Jamie (my fiancée) like an utter bellend. I guess it was the shock making me act like a mentalist. I’m sure they’ve seen worse reactions (I hope…….cringe!) I also have a beautiful 8 year daughter and I have lots of years of embarrassing her to look forward to which I need to fulfil so dying just isn’t an option.
10 days before I was celebrating my 36th Birthday with a surprise trip to Dublin downing my body weight in guiness (and that’s quite a lot) being totally oblivious to the rave that the cancer cells were having in my right tit. I just ignored the really irritating dull ache above my nip which I now know was probably caused by the cells doing a pissed up version of Michael Flattleys lord of the dance all over my muscles. In fact id had that annoying pain for the last 18 months but at a scan in December 2016 I was told by a woman who looked half dead herself it was merely a rupture. No biopsies taken. She just continually told me what a cracking rack I had and sent me on my way. I mean, she was stating the obvious but had she have been more thorough, maybe I wouldn’t be sat here today with a stage 3 cancer messing with my mental health, which to be fair is questionable at the best of times and making me question daily as to whether I should be getting rid of anything embarrassing should my Mum ever have to sort through my belongings. Jamie proposed to me in Dublin too and I fully intend of having a wedding. Even if I am a one-titted bride with questionable hair (or lack of)….What a catch I am!
So, this diagnosis was followed by a CAT scan and MRI and an appointment with my oncologist. Well……he had about as much sympathy as Donald Trump to gun crime victims. After reeling off a shit load of stupidly big words and various medical jargon he may aswell have thrown me up in the air and volleyed me out of the door. But what can I do apart from trust what he says (whatever the hell that was) and go with it. 9 months of Chemo……9 SODDING MONTHS…….followed by surgery…..followed by 3 months of radiotherapy. Ouch! Ive pretty much come to terms with the fact that im going to look like something that’s just fallen out of a chickens arse but this may be a different story when it actually happens. Every morning I fully expect to look at my pillow and for it to resemble a barbers floor but as yet it hasn’t happened. Still, I will be prepped with my shit hot wig when it does. No offence to anyone who likes the head scarves but to me you may aswell be walking around sporting a sandwich board with “Im a cancer victim” written on it in massive letters. Not for me im afraid. If im gonna do this shit, im adding a bit of glam to it! I may be ill but doesn’t mean I have to look it.
My first bout of Chemo started on the 8th of June. The 3 other people in the other bays (am I a cow?) all look like they’re over 60 and I feel a bit like an English person on Shirley High Street (a place near where I live in Southampton that seems to be 99% eastern European) . I stand out like a sore thumb and look very out of place. Still, I try to smile and laugh my way through it like I tend to do with a lot of things, then the nurse plonks herself next to me armed with a tray full syringes filled with various coloured poison. I say poison but at the end of the day this stuff is designed to help me. It may look like something used in America for lethal injection but potentially this is what could be saving my life. With a bit of luck this stuff that enables me to have unicorn piss (yes it turns it pink) is gonna be like old bill and put a stop to the continuous after party that’s kicked off in my right booby. Hopefully shut the venue down for good! I feel a bit crap afterwards and for the following 3 days but compared to some of the horror stories I’ve heard I’ve come off lightly.
One thing I have learnt….Do not EVER google stuff. If I’d have believed everything I read, I would have had cancer in every part of my body. Eyeballs, nostrils, toenails….you name, I’d have had it. And I would have died at least 15 times by now. It’s the worst thing to do yet so addictive. Thing is I tend to believe the bad stuff. There could be 500 survivor stories and I will only take notice of the one when someone has surgery and gets sepsis followed by full limb amputation and convince myself that this is my fate, and people have the audacity to call me negative! I may come across as such but when it comes to the grand scheme of things, I am actually feeling very upbeat and positive of late. I am 100% ready for this fight and am willing to rugby tackle / lightening kick / windmill / clothesline my way through this. Cancer is gonna regret the day it ever gate crashed my party. It is gonna be a long road ahead…practically a space mission but I am fully prepared for it. It’ll take more than a poxy bit of stage 3 to finish me off. I’m a stubborn cow at the best of times and even more so now. Jamie and Grace have many years left in them and I fully intend on being there to share them….ive promised Jamie and Grace and I don’t break promises!
