BRiC's Collective Voice: How to look feminine during treatment, March 2020

A recent Sunday discussion focused on how our members manage to look and feel feminine during treatment, we shared tips on what works for us and discussed whether it is important to feel feminine during treatment.

For many of our members the first hit to their femininity is hair loss through chemotherapy. A sudden and complete hair-loss affects the way we view ourselves and how we perceive that others see us. Add to that, the probability that surgery will leave us disfigured to a greater or lesser extent, then it is not surprising that we feel less feminine, less attractive and less confident.

Many members said they feel glamorous in their wigs, wearing styles that they would not have contemplated before, others hate their wigs and prefer hats, scarves and buffs, others choose the bald-and-beautiful look, embracing the liberating feeling it brings. But for every member who finds joy and confidence in their wig or hat, there are many more who feel the loss of hair affects them deeply and their confidence has taken a huge hit.

Lots of our members shared tips around using make-up, bright colours, lovely lipsticks and jewellery to boost confidence during treatment. Those who had attended a Look Good Feel Better course, or similar events, said they enjoyed the tips, such as how to draw on eyebrows. Others suggested using positive affirmations, looking in the mirror and seeing your own beauty; remembering to smile was a popular tip. One member said her method was to simply put her head down and power through, there is time enough to worry about our femininity after treatment.

Our private group has members with both primary and secondary breast cancer and for those with a secondary diagnosis the effects of ongoing treatment can mean their sense of femininity is hit even harder. They may be facing a constant battle with side effects: hair loss or thinning, weight gain, pain and bloating, were just some of those mentioned. For all our members the general tiredness adds to the struggle. Lots of us want to feel “normal” more than to feel feminine; something made difficult by the side effects of the drugs. Weight gain, premature menopause, loss of libido and loss of confidence affect almost all of us to some degree. For those of us in a relationship, having a supportive partner can be a boost to our confidence, although some members confessed to a feeling of disbelief when their partner tells them they are beautiful. Those who are single often worry about how potential partners might see us in our new, less feminine state.

Some of us who weren’t “girly girls” before cancer found the urge to enjoy what was left of their femininity, things that weren’t important before became a high priority, our hairdresser often became our new best friend. Keeping up with our routine helped many members, having a manicure, wearing make-up, buying nice clothes and getting dressed up helped to maintain that sense of self. For others it was a relief to be able to let those things slide and enjoy just being ourselves with no concern about how we looked.

We wondered if the pressure to feel feminine could be counterproductive. Side effects can be a long-term thing, is it feasible to keep on putting that pressure on ourselves to look and feel feminine when we are exhausted from the effort? One solution might be to find a way to be kind to ourselves rather than concentrating on how feminine we feel. Others thought that focusing on our femininity helps us to tolerate the treatment and its effects.

If you are a woman in the UK with a breast cancer diagnosis and would like to join our private group, please add your name into the comments or send us a private message and we will get in touch with you.

BRiC's Collective Voice: Breast Cancer and Femininity, Sept. 15, 2019.

Our Sunday discussion focused on how our members manage to look and feel feminine during treatment, we shared tips on what works for us and discussed whether it is important to feel feminine during treatment.

For many of our members the first hit to their femininity is hair loss through chemotherapy. A sudden and complete hair-loss affects the way we view ourselves and how we perceive that others see us. Add to that, the probability that surgery will leave us disfigured to a greater or lesser extent, then it is not surprising that we feel less feminine, less attractive and less confident.

Many members said they feel glamorous in their wigs, wearing styles that they would not have contemplated before, others hate their wigs and prefer hats, scarves and buffs, others choose the bald-and-beautiful look, embracing the liberating feeling it brings. But for every member who finds joy and confidence in their wig or hat, there are many more who feel the loss of hair affects them deeply and their confidence has taken a huge hit.

Lots of our members shared tips around using make-up, bright colours, lovely lipsticks and jewellery to boost confidence during treatment. Those who had attended a Look Good Feel Better course, or similar events, said they enjoyed the tips, such as how to draw on eyebrows. Others suggested using positive affirmations, looking in the mirror and seeing your own beauty; remembering to smile was a popular tip. One member said her method was to simply put her head down and power through, there is time enough to worry about our femininity after treatment.

Our private group has members with both primary and secondary breast cancer and for those with a secondary diagnosis the effects of ongoing treatment can mean their sense of femininity is hit even harder. They may be facing a constant battle with side effects: hair loss or thinning, weight gain, pain and bloating, were just some of those mentioned. For all our members the general tiredness adds to the struggle. Lots of us want to feel “normal” more than to feel feminine; something made difficult by the side effects of the drugs. Weight gain, premature menopause, loss of libido and loss of confidence affect almost all of us to some degree. For those of us in a relationship, having a supportive partner can be a boost to our confidence, although some members confessed to a feeling of disbelief when their partner tells them they are beautiful. Those who are single often worry about how potential partners might see us in our new, less feminine state.

Some of us who weren’t “girly girls” before cancer found the urge to enjoy what was left of their femininity, things that weren’t important before became a high priority, our hairdresser often became our new best friend. Keeping up with our routine helped many members, having a manicure, wearing make-up, buying nice clothes and getting dressed up helped to maintain that sense of self. For others it was a relief to be able to let those things slide and enjoy just being ourselves with no concern about how we looked.

We wondered if the pressure to feel feminine could be counterproductive. Side effects can be a long-term thing, is it feasible to keep on putting that pressure on ourselves to look and feel feminine when we are exhausted from the effort? One solution might be to find a way to be kind to ourselves rather than concentrating on how feminine we feel. Others thought that focusing on our femininity helps us to tolerate the treatment and its effects.

If you are a woman in the UK with a breast cancer diagnosis and would like to join our private group, please add your name into the comments or send us a private message and we will get in touch with you.

Weekly Discussion Summary ~ Fashion Tips

In this week's discussion, we shared the different ways we've learned to dress in a style that makes us feel comfortable and confident and our fashion tips.

Treatment for breast cancer results in many physical changes which are outside our control and force us to reassess the way we dress and what suits our changed physical appearance. One of the most obvious physical changes we experience is a result of breast surgery, although our discussion highlighted the very different surgeries we have experienced: some of us have one reconstruction, others two reconstructions, we might be one-breasted, lopsided or flat, with scars and lumps and bumps in odd places.

Weight gain caused by treatments impacted on our confidence and relationship with our bodies and is an added challenge.

Chemotherapy leaves us without hair, eyebrows and eyelashes.

Lymphoedema causes swelling in the arms (and sometimes torso) and means we need clothes which will accommodate a swollen arm.

Peripheral neuropathy may lead to painful feet that can no longer tolerate strappy sandals or high heels.

Whether we have primary or secondary breast cancer, being able to dress comfortably in a style that suits us is still important to us. Many of us also want to know how to dress fashionably, as this helps us to feel feminine, sexy, normal.

Lingerie was highlighted as a huge source of frustration for many of us: where once we used to wear pretty bras, we may now be restricted to post-surgery bras which are often sturdy and frumpy. Why the manufacturers of mastectomy bras think we no longer enjoy wearing lace or silk is beyond us! Yes, we want practical garments with pockets for our prosethesis and/or padding, but we don’t need bras like our grannies used to wear!

Swimwear is another challenge for us, as we want to cover up our imperfections but we still want something that looks attractive and is flattering.

Low cut tops may be a thing of the past as we strive to cover up scars and lack of cleavage. Although loose fitting, well cut patterned or striped tops may be our friend, we don’t want to end up looking like ‘a barrel in a tablecloth.'

One suggestion was to have a colour/style makeover and visiting a specialist lingerie shop for a fitting. Other tips to look good include wearing make-up (Look Good Feel Better offer special sessions for women with a cancer diagnosis, where they are shown how to apply make-up) and also jewellery, including ear-rings, necklaces, bracelets. Careful colour and co-ordination of jewellery can draw the eye of an onlooker to the face.

A good hair cut and colour, for those whose hair has grown back or for those who didn’t lose it, can also work wonders for confidence and again draws the eye.

A number of us found wearing more colourful clothes can be a lift. Natural fibres such as cotton, wool and silk are more comfortable particularly for those of us who suffer with hot flushes. Layers make sense here too, as we may be boiling hot one minute and shivery cold the next.

Scarves can be really useful as cover ups for the neck and chest area, and also they are good for adding a splash of colour. Natural light fabrics won’t aggravate hot flushes.

For lymphoedema sufferers, wide sleeves, silky and loose, are good for accommodating swollen limbs and disguising a compression sleeve, with a cuff bracelet at the wrist.

Interesting sleeve detail is easy to find in the current fashion trends, and Kimono style jackets are a great option. Ruffle front tops and bardot styles are fabulous for disguising imbalances.

At the end of the day, we want to relax in our PJs just as much as anyone else. We seek comfort on a day to day basis, but on special occasions we want to look glamorous too. Finding styles that we feel good in helps us to feel better about how we look, which in turn helps our confidence and self-esteem.

Here are a couple of links which offer excellent advice:

...https://www.maggiescentres.org/.../clothing-and-bras.../

http://flatterfashion.co.uk/flat-friends-flatter-fashion.../

If you are a woman living in the UK with a breast cancer diagnosis and you would like to join our private group please send us a private message via 
https://www.facebook.com/resilienceinbreastcancer/

Weekly Discussion Summary ~ Postcards from Within

'I am not what happened to me. I am what I choose to become.' C. G. Jung

Our discussion this week was inspired by a post from member Elizabeth.

'This piece is part of a series called Postcards from Within by North American glass artist Denise Bohart Brown. It spoke to me in a way that art rarely does.

I am not what happened to me. I am what I choose to be.

I am not defined by having breast cancer. It has changed me. Stopped my breath. Caused me to stand still. Brought tears. Fear. Pain. More than I could imagine. Still does.

It happened to me. It is happening to me.

But I choose to be more than the experience of having breast cancer...
I think if I were to send myself a postcard from within, this is what I would write.'

#postcardsfromwithin

We invited our members, who are women with both primary and secondary breast cancer diagnoses, to submit their own postcard from within. A selection of excerpts from their contributions are attached to this post.

If you would like to, please add your own postcard in the comments: what would you write if you were to send yourself a postcard from within?

If you are a woman living in the UK with a breast cancer diagnosis, and you would like to join our private group, please send us a private message via https://www.facebook.com/resilienceinbreastcancer/

Weekly Discussion Summary ~ Our Favourite Things

As an Easter treat our Sunday discussion focused on the little things we do that make us feel better. One of the keys to self-compassion is knowing what helps and making sure we make time for it. Naz talked about making the most of our micro-moments of positivity. She also believes that an eye for little precious moments of joy can be created as well as discovered.

Many of our members have endured invasive surgery and harsh treatments that have attacked the core of their femininity. It's no surprise that many of them seek to look their best, as this helps them to feel good about their changed bodies. However, as the list of feel-good activities shows, the pampering is only a small part of the story, with many women finding their greatest pleasure in being active and challenging their minds. Spending time with friends and family is also high on the list of uplifting activities.

Worthy of special mention is Look Good Feel Better, a workshop specifically for women with breast cancer, designed to help them apply make-up following treatment. 

http://www.lookgoodfeelbetter.co.uk/

These are a few of our favourite things! With thanks to lovely member Bal for the aspirational photo!

We love make-up, meditation, music, mountains, massage and mindfulness; shopping, shoes and swimming; the sea, strolling, studying and singing; solitude and socialising; candles, crafting, new clothes and crisp clean cotton sheets; fragrances, family, fitness, fundraising, films, friends, flowers and face masks; coffee, children, cooking, chocolate and candles; books, baths and baking; tattoos, trips out and therapies; holidays, hot tubs, hobbies, new hairstyles, horses and high heels; pets, photography, potions and colour change nail polish; reading, reflexology, running and Reiki; gardens and a glass of wine; walking and writing; audiobooks and art; dancing; yoga; nature, normality, and an attitude of gratitude. As one member put it, 'I remind myself that every day is breathtakingly beautiful. '

#ResilienceDiscussion

Weekly Discussion Summary ~ Impact on Self Image

How does a breast cancer diagnosis impact on our body-image, self-esteem and sense of physical well-being?

The way in which we perceive our bodies has a significant impact on our personal and social well-being. As women, breasts constitute part of our femininity - the way we see ourselves and the way others see us, not only our partners, but the way we present ourselves socially and professionally.

There is good evidence to show that women diagnosed with breast cancer are less confident about their bodies and that our diagnosis and the impact of treatment carries significant implications for all aspects of our health.

We shared our varied experiences as a group - some of us had had a lumpectomy, others had had mastectomies, some of us had chosen not to have reconstruction, others had experienced complications, perhaps as a result of breast surgery, including failed reconstructions, recurrence and secondary breast cancer.

Our attitudes towards our breasts reflected our varied views about what our breasts meant to us as women, for instance, some of us were very comfortable with life after a mastectomy, and without reconstruction, whilst others described feeling a huge lack of confidence. It was clear that a loss of confidence about our body image undermined our sense of self-worth and 'other' worth in personal and social relationships.

Some women had been able to regain confidence as a result of reconstructive surgery, others had not. Some women had been able to regain their confidence as a result of supportive partners, whereas some partners had also found it difficult to cope with the changes in our bodies.

We all had in common an experience of a complete loss of our confidence in our bodies as a result of developing cancer and we shared our continued anxiety about whether we would remain well. The ongoing impact of challenging treatments on our bodies and health, including our sexual health, is often hidden from our loved ones - weight gain, pain, fatigue, hot flushes and vaginal dryness are just a few of the challenges some of us experience. All these symptoms have a significant impact on our overall health and well-being and for some, this was far more difficult to manage than the impact of breast surgery.

Naz told us that a lack of self-compassion and a tendency to depreciate ourselves is one of the biggest risk markers for depression. Isolation and being unable to share our concerns increases our vulnerability. We all shared how much we valued the support of the group and having a safe space to share our deepest fears and concerns.

#ResilienceDiscussion

From Bilateral Mastectomy to Naked Spa! ~ Mandy

On the morning of what should have been a lumpectomy to remove the cancer in my right breast, the words my breast surgeon spoke to me shook my world completely - “Sorry we’ve made a mistake... with the extensive radiotherapy to the chest area you’ve had previously to treat Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, a lumpectomy with additional radiotherapy is a risky option. We think you should have a mastectomy.”

What?! Remove my lovely breast(s)! I can’t be hearing this!

The next few days I reeled from this new set of decisions I now had to make. Mastectomy or not? One breast or two? Reconstruction using tissue from my stomach? Implants? Or no reconstruction at all? After the initial shock and terror of looking at photos of women on the Internet who had also gone under the knife (generally older women without reconstruction), plus my typical analytical listing of the pros and cons of each option, it was surprising how quickly my mind moved from a complete and utter feeling of sickness at the thought of losing my breasts to a state where, not only was I ok with it, but I could take the decision to remove both to reduce the 1 in 3 risk in the left breast.

After the surgery, it took a long time for me to feel comfortable with my body again. However much I was thankful to have a nipple-sparing mastectomy, it was still upsetting looking in the mirror and what you see isn’t ‘you’ anymore. With my breasts battered and bruised (particularly after the initial reconstruction fell apart with a post operative infection), to me it made all the wobbly bits in other areas stand out in an ugly way. The hit to my confidence took me by surprise, considering apparently I’ve always had a bit of an ego - or so my partner tells me!

Shortly after surgery

Close to the finalisation of reconstruction

So... four years on, what on earth made me visit a naked spa?! A place where wearing your swimming costume on 6 out of 7 days in a week is actually prohibited?

Well, I’m naturally driven by curiosity and a love of trying anything once. The opportunity was there and when in Rome, or the Netherlands as I am, then why not?! But mostly, oddly I felt the need to challenge myself. To know whether I had grown comfortable enough to bare myself to anyone other than my partner or at never-ending hospital check ups. To know whether I would freak out convinced everyone was staring at my ‘bogus’ breasts.

In the end it was more my British-ness that was challenged. The day before, I was more concerned about the etiquette that one should exhibit on going to the spa - does one go ‘au naturel’ or does one perhaps have a Brazilian? The idea of having a ‘clean as a whistle’ or a ‘landing strip’ or even a ‘martini glass’ Brazilian made me giggle nervously as I cycled towards the spa the next day.

After the first few minutes when the shock of getting naked in mixed changing rooms subsided (yes British people, you heard right - men and women together), it was actually a revitalising and restoring experience. The other spa-goers (I assume mostly Dutch) relaxed naked in pools, saunas and on sun loungers, alone or in couples, or some on a mother-daughter day out. Groups of friends chatted to each other quite naturally in the showers as they rubbed various exfoliation products on to each other’s backs. Me? I enjoyed it quietly, politely averting my eyes as a man swam by me on his back, not wanting to be accused of being a ‘todger watcher’.

But the best bit? Well, it reminded me of how nearly everyone at the spa that day had wobbly bits, or breasts that were not symmetrical, or funny-shaped parts of their body. It reminded me that although my breasts are not the lovely breasts I grew up with, they’re actually pretty damn good. And they will always remain perky - even when I’m in my eighties!

I can’t say that I will ever quite have the confidence I had before my mastectomy, but my visit to the spa reassured me that I have come a long way. And I would encourage all women, whether you’ve had a mastectomy or not to remind yourselves how beautiful you are - even with the wobbly bits. I think we forget sometimes. And for those who are going through breast cancer at the moment and have to make those horrible decisions and undergo surgery, I hope you can take some comfort that it does eventually get better. I share a couple of photos because I found it hard at the time to find many images of women with reconstruction using implants.

I hope through sharing this we can help other women in similar situations. I know I can only speak for myself and I was lucky enough that the nipple-sparing surgery still enabled me to keep some resemblance of what was previously there, but if my experience helps one woman feel slightly better about their future or less scared then I will be happy.

Blog originally posted on HuffPost UK The Blog 4^th July 2016

http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/mandy-riches/from-bilateral-mastectomy_b_10735978.html?utm_hp_ref=uk-lifestyle&ir=UK+Lifestyle

Twitter: www.twitter.com/AmandaRiches

Just run with it ~ Caroline

It’s OK to not be OK. It’s OK to ask for help and to accept help when it’s offered, without feeling like a failure. It’s OK to be angry. It’s OK to scream, cry and ask why me?

I did none of these things, at least not initially. Instead I laced up my trainers and did what I do best.  I ran. I ran on beaches, through the countryside, on the London pavements. I ran on my own, with only my thoughts for company.  Actually that should be thought……I have cancer, I have cancer, I have cancer, there wasn’t any room for anything else. 

How ironic. Me. Marathon running, non smoking, healthy eating, skinny me. People like me don’t get cancer. We live till we’re 100 and die in our sleep - at least my lifestyle choices were made with that goal in mind.

I wasn’t the first member of my family to be afflicted with the disease. 18 years previously my uncle had been diagnosed. Yes men can get breast cancer too.  He found great solace and support in the charity Breast Cancer Care, and went on to become one of their volunteers, fashion show models and committee members, a role which his wife also adopted enthusiastically when she too was diagnosed 10 years later. So when in 2007 I decided I wanted to run the London Marathon, raising money for them seemed an obvious choice. Little did I know that 7 years later I would be the one calling them for help and advice.

Fast forward to 2014. I was 36 years old, my children were 2 and 5. I had a job I enjoyed, was happily married and above all was extremely fit. Life was good. Until all of a sudden it wasn’t.

The weeks that followed my diagnosis were surreal. I didn’t look ill, I didn’t feel ill, so how was it possible I had a life threatening disease?

I am a medical professional but I didn’t know a great deal about breast cancer. A family friend had had it when I was growing up, and sadly died whilst her children were still young, so of course she immediately entered my mind, regardless of the fact that my aunt and uncle were both still alive and well many years after their treatment ended. I looked at my children and thought of not seeing them grow up, not seeing my grandchildren should my children decide to become parents one day.

I approached this chapter of my life with my usual pragmatism. I just got on with it. People use words like fight and battle but the reality is you just do as you’re told. Go here for a biopsy on this date, you’ve got a CT scan on this date, a pre op assessment on this date, surgery on this date (actually I delayed my surgery by a week so I could go to a friends wedding). You have to accept that your life is no longer your own, your life belongs to cancer, because cancer dictates your daily routine.

I continued to run every moment I got. I had been signed off work at my GPs insistence, who told me my full time job for the next year was being a patient. Sleep had become elusive due to anxiety, so I was on sleeping pills which left me feeling drugged. I spent many hours in hospital waiting rooms but couldn’t concentrate enough to read a book or a magazine. Instead I listened to Passenger on my iPod - 'Life is for living, so live it or you’re better off dead' over and over again.

As a species human beings have an awareness of death from an early age. We all know that death is inevitable, what we don’t know is when or how. Most of us don’t dwell on this fact and it wasn’t something that I really thought about until faced with my own mortality. The reality that I really might die came crashing down on my husband and me in a grotty consulting room in an east London hospital one June afternoon. We were there to get the results of my lumpectomy and sentinel lymph node biopsy. Instead of the usual 2 hour wait we were ushered straight into the room and told the bad news. Not only had the cancer spread to my lymph nodes, the margins for my lumpectomy were insufficient. This meant a number of things. I needed more surgery, I would almost certainly need chemotherapy, but there was also a risk that the cancer had spread beyond my lymph nodes and metastasised, which would deem it incurable.

I had 7 days to wait, not knowing my fate. In that time I had bone and CT scans to look for signs of spread. Despite being advised not to run for 3 months after surgery I ignored my doctors and ran anyway. I still didn’t look or feel ill, my surgery site had healed well and I needed to pound the pavements for my sanity. 

For that week I lived in a parallel universe. Life continued as normal around me, whilst I existed in my cancer bubble. Back in the hospital waiting room, my mind couldn’t comprehend the enormity of my situation. As my name was called the short walk to the consulting room felt like a marathon. Finally after what seemed like an eternity I was told the scans were negative, treatment would still aim for a cure. I was not going to die, not yet, anyway. I felt numb but quietly relieved.

5 days later I had a mastectomy and the remaining lymph nodes removed from under my left arm. Surgery was uneventful, although this time I knew my running shoes would be remaining firmly by the door for the foreseeable future.

Fortunately I had a backup plan in the form of my bicycle.

Chemo started in August and it completely floored me. In my usual blasé way I totally underestimated the effect it would have.  However I knew the effects were cumulative, so I was determined to make sure I was feeling as normal as possible before the start of the next cycle, otherwise the next 4 months were going to be a one way road to hell. And for me, the best way to feel normal is to run. 

Chemo day was a Tuesday. The amazing help from family and friends meant I could completely write off the next 5 days. No cooking, childcare or school runs meant I didn’t have to leave my bed if I didn’t feel like it. Then on day 6, Monday morning, life returned to normal.  I got up, got dressed and re entered the world, and most importantly, went running.

Initially cycling was a reasonable substitute, but I was itching to regain my running form. The first post chemo run was always incredibly hard - 4 miles of wading through treacle wearing lead lined boots. But as the days went by it got progressively easier. I still did parkrun from time to time, and I even did a 10k race between my 3^rd and 4^th cycles. The icing on the cake was winning a 5k race only 5 weeks after my last chemo cycle, and a 10k race a month later. I joked that tamoxifen was my performance enhancing drug but the reality was I was more determined than ever before.

2015 was my year to put the pieces of my life back together. Cancer may have left my body but it certainly hadn’t left my mind. I needed to figure out a way to incorporate it into my life experience in a meaningful way. Drawing a line under it, moving on, putting it behind me – these were not things I could relate to. I needed to find the new me and the new me included cancer.  Thankfully I have had brilliant psychological support every step of the way, which has taught me so many things about myself I never knew, and helped me to discover the way forward.

Towards the end of 2014 I was introduced to the concepts of mindfulness and self-compassion. I read many books on the subjects and began a regular meditation practice. Initially this involved using various apps and You Tube, but gradually I felt confident enough just to sit quietly and notice whatever was going on.  I completed two 8 week long mindfulness courses at the London Buddhist Centre, and now, over a year later, can definitely say that regular meditation has brought many benefits to my life.

I was accepted as a model for the annual Breast Cancer Care fashion show in London and also asked to give a speech to the audience telling my story. The old me would never have agreed to speak in public to more than 800 people, but not only did I do it, I loved every minute of it.

I competed in my first triathlon less than 8 months after finishing chemo, and have 2 more lined up this year. My body has continued to try and throw a spanner in the works at every opportunity, firstly in the form of an ovarian cancer scare (thankfully just a scare) and then an osteopenia diagnosis, not quite as bad as osteoporosis but on the way. 

I have become a vegetarian as there is a lot of, in my opinion, fairly conclusive evidence that our consumption of animal products is a huge part of the reason certain types of cancer are reaching almost epidemic levels in the western world.  I am also trying not to eat dairy products, but for a girl who used to joke that her 5 a day were butter, cheese, ice cream, cream and yoghurt this has not been easy.

A couple of weeks ago it was 2 years since I found my tumour. According to my oncologist the fact that I have made it this far without a recurrence means it is less likely to come back. However statistics are just numbers and have no bearing on a particular individuals chance of survival, so I will never be complacent. I know too many people who have fallen foul of statistics and are no longer with us to rest on my laurels.

Cancer no longer keeps me awake at night, although it does feature in my dreams. There is no doubt in my mind that my life is on a different trajectory than it was pre cancer. The changes may not be immediately obvious to an outsider but my perception of life has changed.  Cancer has given me opportunities I would otherwise not have had, introduced me to some amazing people, and allowed me to be the recipient of some wonderful acts of human kindness. That is not to say I am glad it has happened, but I am grateful that something good has come out of it.

My body continues to astound me by being able to comply with all I demand of it, despite everything it has been through. Our ability to recover from even the worst of trauma is a testament to human resilience, whether I am more resilient than the average person I cannot say. I was called inspirational more times than I can count whilst going through treatment, but as my friends know I don’t feel deserving of such an accolade because I really was just being myself, and trying to keep things as normal as possible for me and my family.

I live with the knowledge that it could come back at any time but I have accepted that. It doesn’t cause me anxiety, except occasionally around appointments and scan results. I don’t consciously think about it but it is always there in the back of my mind, an unwanted intruder.  And if I’m having a bad day and feel like shouting and screaming and asking why me?  I put on my running shoes and head out the door into my world. 

Could this be (one of) the greatest days of my life xx ~ Rachel

Those of you who have known me a lifetime will know I used to be a part time model. Mainly a sports model. At the age of 18 I finished my A levels and then had to choose between taking the modelling seriously or heading off to University. I decided my looks and body wouldn’t last for ever (and how right I was!!) but my brain Hopefully would, so off I trotted to Sussex Uni to study for a Mechanical Engineering degree. I’d done catalogues, newspaper adverts and brochures, it was a fun time. Parked as a good memory.

So over the years my dream of walking a catwalk had been left behind. University and a love of food, a very happy marriage, and 2 pregnancies leading to births of 2 very large babies certainly took its toll on my physique.

Then came the Breast Cancer diagnosis. So with this comes surgeries (3), missing parts (many), chemotherapy treatments (17th yesterday), a ton of different drugs (too many to name or count), steroids (appetite stimulants), radiotherapy (exhausting) and comfort eating (inevitable). A lack of ability to exercise fully – no excuses here – it really does have to be fitted in around health issues and energy levels. I’m not in the greatest shape ever!!!

Last week I got the chance to turn back the clock and feel like the old me. The model me. I cannot thank Breast Cancer care enough for giving me this opportunity. To live this lifelong dream, to tick this unticked box. When I was first selected I was “all clear” – except I wasn’t. I called BCC to check I was still eligible, as I still had cancer and a lot of treatment to go. Of course I was, if I was to be well enough at the time of the show. Well the whole sorry story has dragged on so long that there has been doubt in my mind that I would be well enough. The recent lung clots, the vision issues, the ongoing chemo. Only a few weeks ago I begun to feel scared I wouldn’t be able to take part.

I woke up last Sunday with a swollen face and neck, looked like an angry frog. I called the emergency line and off down to the hospital I had to go, dragging the family with me. Whilst they played in a local park I got checked out. Terrified I would be kept in and miss the show. To cut a long story short I refused to even sit on the ward bed and escaped an hour later. Thank goodness.

Well to the day of the show. About as emotional as it can get. As I waited backstage I felt my knees knocking and I thought – can I actually do this? Then they called out my name and I heard the Cheer of my life. 2 tables full of loud loving ladies were already whooping and I hadn’t even got out onto the stage yet. Some tears, full body goosebumps and a steely determination. YES I can do this. Cry my way down that stage – who cares! Well the music started and off we went and can I say I was having such a fabulous time from start to finish that tears were at the back of my mind. I LOVED it, and apparently I ROCKED it. Feeling the love from my Very emotional amazing Mum, my very best friends and my fabulously flat friends – it was a huge boost for me. I felt so loved and supported and confident.

Unforgettable.


So that was the afternoon show.

 And then the Evening show began..I walked (strutted) out again, this time to less whooping but all I could see was my amazing Husband Doug, my rock. Gorgeous and extremely emotional (sorry Doug!) standing watching in the kilt he wore when we got married. We’ve been married for 10 years in a few weeks and this was so meaningful to me. We need many many many more years. Once again I utterly loved every minute on the catwalk. It was amazing. My wonderful Oncologist was in the Audience along with other medical staff from the hospital where I have my appointments. And yes it was nice to be escorted by a famous rugby player but I only have eyes for Doug.

So what a day. I’m still buzzing. Thank you to Breast Cancer Care. Thank you to everyone who was part of my day. Thank you for coming and cheering. You know how much I love you. Sorry to those who couldn’t make it, I hope you enjoyed all the pics and videos and felt part of it. This has got me through yesterday’s chemo (back to reality!) and has restoked my fighting spirit.

It is up there with the top days of my life. Graduation day, Our Wedding day, Callum being born, Hannah being born. And then achieving that lifetime catwalk model dream. A box ticked. Lucky me xxxxxxx

Read Rachel’s blog https://dingdinground3year3.wordpress.com/