Katie's story

 

It is nearly three years since my initial diagnosis (stage II, 13mm, HER2+); and two and a half years since I completed primary treatment (surgery, chemo, radiotherapy).

My hair has grown back (chemo curls!), and the horrendous foot pain has subsided. I have started running again and sometimes I feel that I am thinking more clearly again (remembering names etc).

A daily little pill (aromatase inhibitor, exemestane) and a six-monthly infusion of zoledronic acid are however, ever-present reminders for me (invisible to most others). I still occasionally feel inexplicitly fatigued on some days and experience crippling hot sweats that make me cringe with embarrassment.

I found the whole cancer experience interesting and it has given me a new perspective. I would not have chosen this path of course, and I didn’t like being the centre of attention and well-meaning enquiries from family and friends. The ongoing post-pandemic fear of covid interrupting my treatment gave me the excuse to hide away from the world at large.  I appreciated the kindness and professionalism of the medical team; the quiet unfussy support of my husband; and the company of key friends. I pushed through the treatment. I wore my PICC line as a talisman to protect me. I was fortunate not to have work or children to care for and although there were sickly, difficult times; there was also a chance to enjoy nature and forge new connections.

Cancer support groups are scary. You meet the dying and the sick. That won’t be me: I won’t need chemo (but I did), I won’t get a recurrence or metastasise (but I might). Like all ‘clubs’ there are people you like and people you don’t get. I am hugely grateful to the cancer nurse who organised a small coffee morning to introduce people of a similar age and a similar journey. We supported each other through the main swell of treatment. Some of us forged lifelong friendships.

Newly diagnosed friends of friends get in touch, and I am always happy to walk and talk and share my experiences. For me: forewarned is forearmed but not everyone feels the same way. After my treatment I took myself off alone to a Nordic walking holiday organised by the amazing ABC Diagnosis. I was terrified by the storied I heard, felt myself a fraud for being ‘only’ primary, but I am so grateful to be armed with the knowledge of secondary symptoms and signs.

So far two manifest fears have prompted action: a lump in my armpit (mammogram and ultrasound, likely to be an internal stitch where lymph node removed); and backpain (blood test and MRI scan, likely to be strain from moving house!). I am relieved to be taken seriously and even more relieved to be checked out and OK (for the moment). Most aches and pains that keep me awake worrying tend to disappear within days and then I hardly remember what I was worried about. 

My last Zoledronic acid infusion is next month. A milestone. I am expecting my oncology check ups to move from six monthly to annual (all being well of course).

My husband has taken a sabbatical from work, and we have sold our house with plans to travel and spend time with worldwide friends and family and visit far flung places. Fear of cancer returning makes this seem risky. Fear of a shorter life makes this seem urgent and essential.