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I was 34 when my story started, Christmas 1998, the day after boxing day in fact. Late at night, my husband sleeping beside me, I was reading, sitting up in bed. Left hand holding the book, right hand on my neck, just above my left breast, my little finger touched a lump! Almond in shape and what seemed to be solid but mobile to touch. I sat up, put the book down (page still open so I could continue reading in a moment) and slid both hands down the two breasts at once, slowly from the neck area. Yes, there was definitely a lump in my left breast, but not in my right!
The next morning I phoned the doctor's surgery and made an appointment to see my G.P. 9.30am on Monday 4th January 1999, a good time I thought, as my four year old triplets would be starting school for their first day, giving me the "ME TIME" everyone told me about, when they start school full time!
New years eve was busy, well it was our turn to host the party and whilst shopping in Sainsbury's with my friend, I mention the lump. Kaye said she'd had a "scare" before and it was probably a Cyst like hers so not to worry!
The evening of 3rd January I had to tell my husband that I had an appointment and why, well, with the children finally starting school, after four years of mum being there for them all of the time, if the doctor sent me straight to the hospital, he may be called from work in London, to pick them up after school and take them home.
The next morning, waving goodbye with a big reassuring smile on my face, I leave the school playground off to the doctor's! On my way, on my mobile, I phoned King George's Hospital in Newbury Park, to enquire after my father who was dying at the time (he died 24th February of that year, never knowing this story, thank God!)
The doctor was so sweet, "it's probably a Cyst, but we'll get it checked out, just in case!" and I was referred to the EPPING BREAST CANCER UNIT for a biopsy.
My appointment came through for ten weeks later, (the rules are different now, I think one has to be seen within 14 days) so in march, two weeks after my Father's funeral, a Thursday morning off I trot to St. Margaret's Hospital in Epping, where I meet darling Ashraf Patel. I was not prepared for how bruised I would feel and tender for a few days after, but I put it at the back of my mind, well...Breast Cancer happens to other people and Cysts are very common!
On the Tuesday after the biopsy, I received a phone call from the Breast Care Unit's secretary, asking me to return on the Wednesday morning as my test results had been "inconclusive" so the next day, this time with my mum, whom I'd now had to share this information with, because I needed a lift in her friend's car, well I didn't want to drive expecting the muscular discomfort in my chest and arm area again.
"I'm not telling you , you have Breast Cancer! Do you understand me?" Ashraf was repeating in my face. "We just need to get you in, and get that lump out, so we can have more conclusive results...tomorrow OK?" (Or was it the Thursday after? Don't remember for sure, but there was not much waiting around any more!)
So into Rowan Ward in Princess Alexandra Hospital I went, had a lumpectomy, (removal of the lump), then the diagnosis that yes, it was Breast Cancer, on the eve of what would have been my Father's birthday, (can you hear violins?) Diagnosis "C4 - High Grade Three", whatever that means.
Then operation number two, because not enough healthy tissue was taken from around the lump the first time...Oh joy!
Then operation number three, to take 20 lymph nodes from under my left armpit, leaving about 10, to check if the Cancer had spread...Oh joy...again!
Then operation number four, even though the Cancer had not spread, thankfully, I had such an awful infection from the last operation that manually pushing the thick custard like puss, up and out of the open wound, did not clear it. Ashraf taking a clean swab from nurse one, using it to push up the puss from my left rib area, up out of the wound in my arm pit, passing the used swab to nurse two, to throw away and then take another clean one from nurse one, nurse three was holding my left arm up over my left ear, to help keep me as still as possible, I was screaming out but I think more out of fear than anything, but the infection had to be removed under anaesthetic, and yet again another set of drains! These were to drain away the excess blood and can be a little uncomfortable, but not painful!
Rowan ward was FANTASTIC! The women I was in hospital with laughed and cried together, lived and died together (Sue!) and we kept each other going through it all!
So, now my four operations were over...CHEMOTHERAPY began in March. This was with another great man, Julian Singer, "If you were my wife, I'd want you to have it all!" he said to me, my husband and my mum.
So "all", was what I had! three months of Chemotherapy, I started losing my hair before the second dose and so took my three, now five year olds, to my neighbour, a hairdresser by trade, and they sat with juice and a biscuit, watching mummy have her head shaved, WOW, How liberating is that!!
My periods stopped and my eyelashes and eyebrows started to fall out...I lost weight, but having a runny tummy and being sick all of the time can do that!
On 31st July, my 35th birthday, we had a "Celebration Of Life" day in Frinton on the beach, everyone came to build sandcastles, dig holes, paddle, eat sandy sandwiches and chips on the pier in the evening, what a great day, my mum and two of my cousins arrived with Champagne and plastic cups!!
After the Chemotherapy, came the RADIOTHERAPY, this was every day for four weeks and then a fifth "Booster week" for good measure, at Addenbrookes Hospital in Cambridge, I was very sore and had lost alot of flesh under my breast by the end of it all...the last treatment was 25th October 1999!!
I have been in remission since then. Annual check-ups with Dr. Singer's team which I get anxious about until I hear those magic words..."We'll see you next year!"
Because of these two Doctor's and their teams...I am attempting to climb Ben Nevis, to raise money for them to continue the amazing service they give to their very frightened patients!!
Ruth Brooks
I was still a young girl really, when my story started. After spending weeks of feeling unwell and extremely lethargic then getting mysterious pains in my arms and legs, my mum took me to the doctors. It took quite a few trips back and forth before they stopped telling us I had a virus/cold. I think that the point they realized something was seriously wrong was when after sending me for a blood test it showed I was seriously anemic.
The day my mum came home early from work to take me to the hospital for tests is still clear in my mind and a day I don't think will ever become misty.
I was rushed to the hospital for a lumber punch and bone marrow test.
Once the results had come in and after many tears, the doctors told us that they were positive I had Leukemia.
It was July 1986 and I was thirteen years old.
From Harlow hospital I was transferred by ambulance, in a matter of hours, to Saint Bartholomews Hospital in London.
I underwent three cycles of chemotherapy and two weeks radio therapy.
Brushing your hair and ending up with more on the brush than on your head was a strange experience.
Thank god for the consultants ( Dr Judith Kingston ) doctors and many nurses who helped me through a living nightmare. I honestly don't think I would be here if it wasn't for their support and dedication.
After that followed two years of maintenance drugs before that great day when I was told I was in remission.
Weekly then monthly checkups followed gradually building up to longer periods in-between. Life was starting to look good again.
I finished school and went to college.
In June 1990 I was staying at a friends house. At bedtime I had a stomach ache and wasn't feeling great. In the morning I tried my best to get up and get dressed. By this time the pain was so bad I couldn't stand up.
After convincing my friends mum not to call an ambulance my own mum came and collected me and we made the journey to Bart's to see my consultant.
After an examination she explained to me that she could feel a mass in my stomach. I was sent for an ultrasound where it was confirmed that I had a mass on my ovary.
More tests followed and then I was told I had a tumor on my ovary.
Within a space of a few months I had an operation to remove the tumor along with my left ovary.
Six cycles of chemo were recommended and the process started again.
Things were going ok and I was keeping my fingers crossed that I would make it home for my 18th birthday.
It didn't work and I spent my birthday in hospital.
After the third cycle it was decided that the chemo should stop as my liver was starting to deteriorate.
At this point I could no longer eat and was finding drinking difficult, I spent eight weeks on TPN ( Basically intravenously fed)
This helped and I started picking up. I came home briefly in the October, but after fitting was re-admitted.
I finally made it home on December 13th and spent a lovely Christmas at home surrounded by my family and friends.
I have been in remission since then but still attend yearly check ups with the same consultant who has seen me all the way through my journey. To her I really do owe my life.
I now have a 14yr old son, something I wasn't sure I would ever be able to have.
Because of the journey I have taken along with thousands of others, I am going to attempt to climb Ben Nevis to raise awareness and money to ensure there is always the support and service of a fantastic medical team for those who need it most.
Nikki x
If you wish to submit your story , please send it to barkerlesa@aol.com along with your picture . |
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