My breast cancer journey is all in my memoir The Future is Rosie but at the moment of discovery on that bleak March day in 2016, the future seemed anything but Rosie!
That was the night at the beginning of March when I had a nightmare about having cancer waking up trembling and trying to calm myself down only to hear that voice in my ear saying “It’s your turn for cancer now.”
I recall every detail of the exact moment when I put my hand on my chest to calm myself down and felt the small hard lump.
Remembering the ominous dread and the confirmation over the next few days,“You have cancer” as they found not one lump but two. Not one sort of cancer but two -the more dangerous one called HER 2 hidden deeper inside where there were no outward signs.
Thank God both tumours were only termed as stage two so caught early and both were on the left side.
The voice in my ear was right.
That day I became one of the thousands of women subjected to the disbelief and shocking reality of losing a breast, the fear of undergoing radical surgery, lymphectomy, mastectomy and chemotherapy. Then enduring 18 weeks of wearing the ice-cold cap in an attempt to preserve most of my hair then radiotherapy and eventually reconstruction.
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For over a year I was wiped out physically and emotionally, but worst was the fear that I wouldn't be there for my children, my son then aged seven, and my grown-up elder daughter.
I’m not going to lie it was tough and was one of the worst years of my life but now eight years on I still thank God every day I am still one of the fortunate ones.
Since then, several women I’ve known have been diagnosed and have been through gruelling treatment.
Whenever I heard this news, I felt sick for them, but tried my best to reassure them they would get through it, and in most cases they have.
As I tried to process the diagnosis, it was vital to my sanity to find other women who made it through and recovered. There were a few kind ladies who reached out and I can never thank them enough.
I tried to pay it forward and hope that those I’ve tried to help were spurred on by my story and
that they in turn can support other women.
My oncologist and breast surgeon have kept a close eye for eight years. I’ve had regular mammograms and scans and careful monitoring with a few scary moments watching the monitor for suspicious signs.
They call it scanxiety – and the fear never quite leaves you. Only those who have walked this tightrope will understand the cold fear that creeps up on you and over you, as you study the expression on the face of your radiologist for any tell-tale signs that they have found something sinister. Then the relief to be given an all-clear.
So many times, at the end of those days I've driven home back to the everyday problems and trivial stuff and thought thank God I can be normal again it’s okay it’s okay and breathe!
As I look at these pictures and the reminder of all I went through I remind myself about self-care and the importance of allowing time for myself. It's all too easy to forget.
I dedicate this to all those for whom the fight goes on.