 Four Years On
Here is the update that I have for so long been waiting to add to this website:
September 1st this year (2004) saw the fourth anniversary of my mastectomy.
AND . . . recently I was officially discharged from the oncology unit at the hospital where I have been attending for regular check-ups every few months since my cancer treatment finished in June 2001.
HOORAY!!
I still have to visit my breast consultant; she monitors my progress on the preventative medication I have to take (ARIMIDEX) for another eighteen months, and also checks me out for any further lumps or other symptoms of what might be secondary breast cancer.
Signs of this can be:
1) Pain in any bone, so severe that it does not respond to painkillers. Especially in limbs and spine.
2) Severe headaches, dizziness and/or visual disturbances.
3) Lumps or swellings, either along the site of the mastectomy scar, or anywhere else in the body, especially in lymph nodes such as in the armpit (on either side), in the neck, or in the groin.
4) General feelings of malaise or being unwell for long spells.
Breast Cancer is known to metastasise (recur as secondary cancer) in bone, spine or brain. Which is why we survivors have to be alert to any of the above symptoms and act promptly if they occur, by seeking medical advice at once.
NEVER PUT OFF going to your GP if any of the symptoms I have described should trouble you, if you have already had breast cancer. Chances are that you will be fine, but you cannot afford to neglect your health when you have suffered from this disease. Always, repeat ALWAYS get it checked out and never put it off “until another day”. That one extra day could be the difference between you getting treated in time to be cured.
We did have a scare in 2003, when I was experiencing back pains which were quite nasty, and I was given a scan to eliminate the possibility of secondary breast cancer in the Autumn of that year. It was a very anxious time for us, as you can imagine. Thankfully the result was negative, and the pain turned out to be due to sciatica, plus the fact that, because I have suffered from M.E. or Chronic Fatigue Syndrome for over 12 years, I have a fair amount of aches and pains, as do most folk with this condition. But my doctors, bless them, took notice of the pains in my back and did all they could to look after my welfare. I’m telling you this to reassure you that, even if you do have a symptom corresponding to any of those associated with secondary breast cancer, it does not necessarily follow that this will be the case. Mine wasn’t, and more probably than not, neither will yours. But remember to make sure, rather than ignore anything in hopes that it will go away. If it is serious, IT WON’T!
If, like me, you are lucky enough to have got this far, well done, you brave, brave woman. (Or man; let’s not forget the 200 or so guys in this country who develop breast cancer every year.) I am so proud of you, just as I am proud of myself, of my dear husband whose support has never faltered in all this time, and of my beloved daughter, whose devoted concern for me has touched me deeply. It is a difficult time for those close to us, following the completion of our treatment, and this should not be underestimated. They still go through all kinds of emotions and fearful thoughts. And who can blame them? They LOVE us, for pity’s sake, and they fear for us. Strangely enough, we Amazons seem to feel far less fear than our loved ones; it is they who appear to suffer more from the terror associated with a diagnosis of cancer. I suppose, with hindsight, our courage is our defence. When faced with any situation involving threat by an enemy, most people would stand and fight because it is no good running away. And so it is with the facing up to, and the defeating of, our disease.
We, you and I, are a sisterhood, we possess extraordinary courage, determination and strength, and we are united in a common bond. We never whinge or moan, we are cheerful optimists, glad to be alive. Once you lose that optimism and faith in your ability to recover, you may as well give up the fight.
But we must never forget those who are, eventually, overcome and lose their battle through no fault of their own. I have lost two very dear friends to breast cancer, one as recently as last year. At the time, I found the strength to visit her, to listen to her telling me how beautiful the world looked to her as she sat at her window, gazing out on the beauty of her garden and the creatures that visited it. To hold her hand, and talk with her about what comes after we have left this physical world, with all its pains and sorrows, and moved on into the spirit from which we came. But I have, to this day, never been able to bring myself to visit the place where she now lies. It still seems, to me, so very unfair that she should die whilst I remain able to enjoy life. In my book I wrote about the irrational guilt many cancer survivors feel, in situations such as this. There is no explaining it, it’s just something we have to accept; that we have survived whilst others have not been as fortunate.
I know I shall be able, soon, to visit my friend’s grave, when the first anniversary of her passing comes. It now draws near, and for some reason I know I will find it easier, then, to accept that she lost her fight. But I shall never forget one of the last things she said to me:
“I know where I am going, and I know who will be waiting for me.”
Her face was radiant as she spoke, and she wore a beautiful smile. I am as thankful for the serenity, calm and inner peace of my friend as she prepared for her passing as I am for my own life. She was indeed an inspiration, and I shall never forget the closeness we shared as her life slipped away. I dedicate this passage to her memory, in hopes that all you out there who are going through this terrible experience will be blessed with the same courage, strength and beauty as was she.
We all know Life is not fair, but who ever said that it should be? We have no control over our destiny, except to fulfil it. And it is pointless to ask the question “Why me?” for there is no answer.
Or maybe there is:
In a scene from the epic film ‘Zulu’ a terrified young soldier, awaiting the assault of the enemy, asks of his Colour Sergeant:
“Why us, Sir?”
“Because we’re here, lad” came the reply.
It is because we’re here that we have these challenges to meet.
And we can make the world a better place by caring enough to share the pain.
Please email me if you need help, or someone to talk to.
I hope to add a further update when I come off my medication in June 2006, so watch this space.
back to top |
