Our Hopes and Dreams

 

    

                                

My dream. My passion. My hope. They are you. We stand together.

Hope gives us the gift of enjoying life

    During active treatment (surgery, chemotherapy, radiotherapy) many of us felt our goals may be frozen as we lurch from one hospital appointment to another. Our focus is on getting through it one day at a time. We shared how our plans go on hold, we pause, develop new goals, redefined goals. We must change and practice flexibility, prioritising and self-care. However, we realised that women's experiences do not fall into neat categories - 'primary'; 'post-treatment'; 'secondary'; 'recurrence' but are much more complex and varied.

    A diagnosis of breast cancer can be shattering and we find we are both a different person and yet still in essence the same. Some of us emerge from active treatment treatment with the expectation that our dreams and hopes can be addressed, only to find that we need to reconcile with our experiences and come to terms with them. Women with secondary breast cancer spoke about how hard it felt to know that treatment and all that goes with it will never end for them but said their hopes and dreams are still there. Whatever our different experiences as women with a diagnosis of breast cancer, there was a sense that we had in common a greater awareness of what it means to be alive, we can become much closer to our values, we experience a clarity and a determination to tune into what makes us happy rather than worrying about what others expect of us.

    Some of us slow down, choosing a quieter life, perhaps changing jobs or moving house or give up work (not always through choice but because their health prevents them from working). Many change the focus of their goals from themselves to others - we want to see children or grandchildren grow up and settle and achieve their ambitions. Others speed up and feel an energy to make the most of every moment, perhaps visiting far away places or undertaking physical challenges, taking up new hobbies, becoming creative, learning new things.

    We heard about women giving up regular jobs to earn a living creating things, to become a counsellor, to take up alternative therapies, to retire early. Others remain as career focused as before, and, like Naz experience a renewed determination to achieve their goals. Others choose to balance their ambitions with studying or part-time work. Some return to the same job but view it differently, perhaps choosing not to let things worry them and finding they can relax more easily when not at work. If self-employed we might decide to keep our business small rather than push for expansion. There was a general desire to minimise stress and to practise self-compassion.

    Some of us are aiming for a particular anniversary - a special birthday, a child coming of age, a wedding anniversary. Other women find themselves not wanting to set long term goals, choosing instead to live more in the present, although some admitted to finding this challenging. What really matters is time, time to love and be loved and of course we would all like to grow old.

    Naz has talked about her own dreams... her ambitions....: The BRIC Centre, our private network, making a difference with her research, spreading the word all over the world. She speaks for all of us who have had a breast cancer diagnosis and her goal to bring women with primary and secondary breast cancer together.


    Our members described the sensation of needing to “dig deep” to be able to be hopeful for the future. Many of our members told us that it was difficult to hope for long term goals or were worried that by doing so, they would be faced with disappointment. It was almost universal that it was easier to feel hopeful about short term expectations and by living in the moment. Sometimes it was difficult to be hopeful, especially when faced with overwhelming events and mental health difficulties. Naz explained in her introduction that we may need a time of hopelessness to find hope and resilience - one of our members called this as seeing “glimmers of light to sparkle hope”.

    Some of our members have experienced taking part in a “Hope Course” through their local cancer service or through a charity - the majority of our members found these unhelpful - they felt that hope is such a personal experience which cannot be taught. Some felt that terminology around hope was difficult. One member heard the term “no-hoper” being used to describe a woman who had died from her cancer. Acronyms such as “HOPE - having only positive experiences” were disliked. More helpful were the kind word and support from family and friends, including those in private groups such as BRiC.

    What do we hope for? We hope that our future will be OK and that we stay well. We hope our cancer will not return or that it will not worsen. We hope our families and friends will stay with us when things are hard. We hope for new drugs and new breakthroughs for treatments. We hope our next scan will be good. We hope to see our children achieve their milestones and we hope to see all the seasons again.

The Language Surrounding Cancer

 

In the research literature, we are ‘survivors.’*In the media, we are ‘warriors.’* We are ‘fighters’, ‘battling’ cancer through cancer. We are described as ‘positive,’ as ‘brave,’ ‘inspirational.’

    In BRiC, we have shared our views and feelings about the language used to describe the experience of breast cancer.
    

    Whether we are going through treatment for primary or secondary breast cancer, or, we’ve had breast cancer , we are all impacted by our diagnosis. We live with the consequences, with our changed bodies and minds. If we have been given an NED diagnosis - no evidence of disease following a mammogram or scan - we are supposedly in remission.  A temporary state of being, with the fear of recurrence or spread very real, and many of us take medication to help prevent this which brings its own side effects. If we have secondary breast cancer we live with cancer on a daily basis, continuing with treatment to help prevent progression. 

    

    A few of us do feel that we are fighting cancer, engaged in a battle with cancer. This often resonates with us during treatment and because the treatments are so harsh and often debilitating.  Chemotherapy can be particularly aggressive. The image of fighting off the enemy, cancer, may be useful to us in maintaining a positive mindset. We also identify with the battle scars, the mutilation that is breast cancer surgery, and the mental scars that never heal.  Internal battles are real to us as we struggle with pain and fear. The image of the warrior ready to fight, to stand up for herself, ready to do battle if she needs to and to fight with all her being.

    

    To say that someone has lost their battle or fight with cancer implies that the person hasn’t fought hard enough, they’ve somehow allowed the cancer to beat them.  The media uses this terminology all the time, announcing that someone famous is fighting cancer. Obituaries often say that someone has passed away after a long battle/fight with cancer, bravely borne. How can we be brave in the face of something that we didn’t choose, that we have no control over? 

    

    Survivor, for those with a primary diagnosis who have finished treatment, implies that the cancer is gone, we are cured, we are free of the disease. The reality is that it is never over, we are always worried that it will return and statistics prove that we are right to be concerned. For those with a secondary diagnosis, we are living the best life we can, day by day, not merely surviving. Survivor also implies that we have done something right, while those who did not survive did something wrong. In the randomness that is cancer this feels very uncomfortable and can lead to survivor’s guilt, where we feel miserable that we are still here while others aren’t. This can be particularly strong where we have lost family members or where a family history of gene defects is part of our diagnosis. We ask, why us?  We are angry, and yet we feel to blame. The term survivor can also feel like tempting fate. However daunting the thought, we cannot truly call ourselves survivors until we die of something other than our cancer. Then we have survived it. 

    

    Many of us dislike the word ‘journey’ in relation to having cancer, in that we didn’t choose to go down that road, to turn that way. It also implies that there is an end destination, that the cancer journey ends and a new one starts. There is no end.

    

    We may be numb and mute in our search to find words to describe how we really feel about our cancer. It’s like being in a foreign country, and the fight is like the struggle for a breath when we’re under water.  We use the standard terms like survivor in our conversations, our writing, because people around us understand them.  We want to write about, blog about, podcast about, our experiences, in order to help others, and in order to do this we have to use words, we have to share thoughts through language.  

    

    Other people also need to find terms to use to describe us, they need expressions which capture their own fear - the Big C, the worst of all illnesses - and perhaps terms like warrior help them. The terms make sense to other people so why not to us?  Because until you’ve walked a mile in our shoes, it’s so difficult to understand how we feel. 

    

    A more positive term adopted by some of us is 'thriver’. We find our new normal, we move on, we move forward, taking our cancer with us. We can and do thrive, both after a primary diagnosis and also with a secondary diagnosis, in the sense that we are making the most of every day, we are living with gratitude and passion. However, thriver can implies that we are always upbeat, always positive, when the truth is we are often just the opposite. If we are not careful “thriver” can bring with it that “toxic positivity” which can undermine our very efforts to practice our resilience. That might not mean being out there grabbing life, it might mean mean resting, reflecting, convalescing. 

This is how one of our members summed it up:

Don't call me a warrior
don't  call me brave,
don't give me medals
don't give me a parade
I didn't fight 
I didn't win
I didn't choose
I just gave in

I gave in to the doctors
I gave in to the surgeons
I gave in to science that would save my life

But I didn't fight
I didn't win
I didn't choose
I just gave in

    We would like you to know that we are not defined by our cancer.  We say: I am. I am still Me. We are, if you must give us labels, women:  partners, mothers, daughters, sisters, employees, volunteers, kind compassionate human beings. 

*We've included Oxford English dictionary definitions of these terms for those interested. Words come to mean something different if used often enough in a certain context: 
warrior : (especially in former times) a brave or experienced soldier or fighter.

brave: ready to face and endure danger or pain; showing courage.

fight: take part in a violent struggle involving the exchange of physical blows or the use of weapons.

battle: a lengthy and difficult conflict or struggle.

positive: constructive, optimistic, or confident.

inspirational: providing or showing creative or spiritual inspiration.

remission: a temporary diminution of the severity of disease or pain

survivor: A person who survives, especially a person remaining alive after an event in which others have died.

Dating and Looking for Love

 

What does a breast cancer diagnosis mean for single women? For those who were waiting for the right partner to come along before diagnosis, and for those whose relationships floundered after diagnosis.  Treatment affects both body and mind, which can often dent our confidence.  Do single women envy those with a supportive partner who sees them through?

    When we do decide to date someone new? When do we reveal our diagnosis? Will our date run a mile or accept our flawed body? These are difficult questions to answer.  For those with children, being a single mum is hard enough without the added complication of serious illness.

    

    Our attitudes towards our breasts reflected varied views about what our breasts meant to us as women. For instance, some of us were very comfortable with life after a mastectomy 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 said they were happy single and had no intention of seeking a relationship; others, although content to be single for now, were keen to find a new love at some point.  Many had dealt with difficult break-ups during or after treatment, and this had made their experience of cancer even more traumatic. On the plus side, it was heartening to hear that many of those without a partner had received strong support from friends and family.

    We discussed the effects of treatment such as loss of libido and feeling unattractive. This appears to become less of a problem over time, with women dipping their toes in the water of dating, and many trying internet dating to meet new people.  A few are unhappy at being single and want to find a loving partner, but are held back by a lack of confidence and a fear of having to be intimate with their new bodies.

    

    Some women remarked that though they may not be single, their relationship suffered because of their diagnosis.  Intimacy had not always continued for some couples, and many of these split up at some point. Others had rallied round and found a new way to be together, saying that it felt like starting again in their partnership.

    We heard some inspiring tales of new post-diagnosis relationships being formed which have blossomed into loving romantic partnerships.  These women remind us that if we are truly open to a new person coming into our lives then there is probably someone out there who will suit us.  As we grow into our new selves, whether we are living with secondary cancer or we are post-treatment and clear for now (and we have members from both these categories in our group) we learn how to take our place in the world as part of a couple or as a single woman. Without doubt our cancer changes us, but with support (such as that provided within our private group) we can move forward towards whatever we believe will make us happy.

https://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/nazanin-derakhshan/breast-cancer_b_10959800.html

Breast Cancer Does Not Define Us

 

We are home-birds, adventurers and adrenalin-junkies; we are cloud-spotters and star-gazers; we love nature - the ‘peace of wild things’, still waters and forests, some of us are drawn to the sea, others to the mountains. Some of us are larks, up to watch the sun rise, while others are night-owls and love the moon.

    We hate unfairness. We believe in values, of truth, honesty and kindness. We are passionate, loyal and stubborn; fierce and fiery, calm and tranquil. We laugh.

    Some of us are workaholics, entrepreneurs, business women, others, for many reasons, have taken a step-back from their careers, or are retired. We are volunteers and public speakers, writers, poets, artists, photographers. Some of us are bosses. We work in all fields. We study, we teach, we mentor and we fundraise. We care. We would move mountains to make the people we love happy and see their smiles.

    Some of us like coffee, others enjoy drinking earl grey in a bone china cup or freshly made masala tea. We love prosecco, red wine, beer, champagne, and - all but a few of us - like chocolate, ice-cream, stout, clean sheets, the sound of birds singing, our children or grandchildren laughing, the thrill of visiting new countries, the anticipation of the curtain call or our favourite band coming on to take centre stage.

    Our interests include amateur dramatics, baking, ballet, crochet, cycling, dancing, drama, DIY, dragon-boating, glass-making, garden gnomes, jewellery-making, knitting, music and musicals, painting, Pilates, playing musical instruments, reading, sailing, singing, scuba-diving, sky-diving, skiing, Reiki, Tai-chi, tennis, theatre, trekking, walking, yoga.

    We have crushes on Keanu Reeves, Tom Hardy, George Clooney and Idris Elba.

    We are animal-lovers and treasure our beloved pets, our dogs, cats, rabbits, horses and sheep who give us so much joy.

    We laugh at Car Share and the Task Master. We hide behind our cushions while watching Scandinavian dramas and get swept away by the lives of the characters in Home and Away and Poldark.

    We enjoy Harry Potter and Glastonbury and Wimbledon Tennis. We run marathons, climb Ben Nevis and Snowdon and participate in endurance races.

    We are travellers with pilgrim souls. We have visited the Grand Canyon and the Great Wall of China, Antarctica, Australia, America, Bolivia, Bulgaria, Costa Rica, Guatemala, Iceland, India, Morocco, Mexico, Tibet and Thailand.

    We are daughters, sisters, wives, partners, aunties, carers. Many, but not all of us, are mothers, or hope to be mothers, and some of us are single-parents. We are grandmothers. We are friends and colleagues. We are all women everywhere.

Ageing: A Gift but Not for Many

 

"Do not try to live forever, you will not succeed.” (George Bernard Shaw)

How does a diagnosis of breast cancer impact on our views about the privileges and challenges of ageing?
   

      Life is a privilege, and one that is often not fully appreciated until it is threatened. When we are diagnosed with a life-threatening disease such as breast cancer, that privilege is brought into sharp focus. 


    We are all women with a diagnosis of primary or secondary breast cancer. We are women of all ages and we have all faced our mortality as part of our illness, and our fears that our lives may be shortened by the disease are real. For women with secondary breast cancer, their perspective is shaped by the knowledge that their disease isn't curable, although treatments often halt its progress for many years. 


    If life is defined by the spirit, a life well lived, then does the length of that life matter? Is living to 'a ripe old age' a valid goal, or a vain one? If we know someone who is dying, don't we want them to stay, to live, for as long as possible? Is it a trait of the human spirit, to want to live a long long life? If so, then why do some people choose to end their lives, by suicide or Dignitas? 


    Our views on ageing were rich and varied, with some of us wanting to live as long and as well as possible, while others value quality over quantity. A life of no regrets, with no time wasted. Some of us throw ourselves into a busy life, with bucket lists and living each day as if it were our last. Others find this approach exhausting and strive for the peaceful and the ordinary. 


    We talked about our elderly relatives, of illnesses in old age which may change people, such as dementia. Here, our views and feeling are shaped by our experiences. The suffering we see, the loss of control, and the challenges of living with reducing abilities and having the resources to adjust have parallels with our experience of cancer. 


    Some are preoccupied by their worry they are a burden to others, the human spirit does appear to cling on to life, through dementia, immobility, pain. If we have cared for elderly relatives who have been unwell (and for those in the caring professions who work with the elderly), we are confronted with these challenges and their impact on our own values and our feelings about cancer come rising to the fore - we may decide that growing old and becoming dependent on others isn't something we want. When quality of life is poor, how do we find pleasures? Does there come a time when decline leads to a desire for life to be over? We may witness frustration, and fear being old and infirm. However we can try to cast this aside and focus on living every day as best we can and being happy. 


    We feel that breast cancer ages us, in that our physical and cognitive capability may be reduced following treatment, at any age. Harsh treatment regimes leave us depleted and adjustment is difficult. For those of us with secondary breast cancer our treatments are ongoing and can be debilitating. We may feel old before our time, which may limit our options, restrict our choices. 


    Some of us feel that our diagnosis gave us a second chance, we've reassessed our priorities and our values. Compassion and kindness lead to contentment for many. For others, death feels closer because of our diagnosis, we no longer feel the invincibility of healthy youth, death is no longer abstract. Some of us make wills, plan funerals, declutter and tidy up. We want to be ready. Many of us celebrate life with rituals to mark the passing years, perhaps with lavish family gatherings and big birthday parties, while others let birthdays slip by quietly. 


    We talked about our faith and the different ways of coming to accept our suffering, our mortality, our reason to be on the earth and how living in the moment might help us. 


    We want to get our vitality back and be the best we can be, without counting numbers. We can't control what happens to us, only how we respond. 


    Whatever our views, appreciating our lives was a key theme, whatever age, with many citing simple joys and everyday pleasures as being of huge importance, alongside gratitude. 

Our Strengths, Our Weaknesses

 

“Vulnerability and strength are two sides of the same coin: you cannot have one without the other.” (Nazanin Derakhshan, Founder of BRiC)

Many of us have found it easier to focus on our weaknesses, perhaps indicating a general negative bias. We have all been diagnosed with breast cancer, some of us primary breast cancer, some of us with recurrences, and some of us secondary breast cancer. Our discussion confirmed that our diagnosis changes us and we talked about lessons learned, weaknesses turned into strengths and vulnerabilities transformed into resilience. We have faced our mortality, undergone harsh treatments, our bodies and minds irrevocably changed. Yes, we have suffered, but we have also grown, found strength in sharing, overcoming, enduring. 


    Many of us see ourselves as caring and kind, tenacious and determined.  We are good problem solvers and fiercely loyal to family and friends. We are generous, independent, smart, passionate and creative. We are conscientious and we never give up. 


    We may come to appreciate the small, simple everyday things in life more, we may find we can let go of insignificant worries more easily. 


    We see our weaknesses as often stemming from our sadness and our experience of loss. Inevitably in our group there is loss, as the reality of breast cancer is that women are robbed of their lives too soon. This can lead to feelings of guilt - why her, not me? and a sensitiveness that leads to holding on to deep fears and sadness rather than expressing our feelings. This is where a safe, confidential space to share (provided by our closed private group) can be so important. 


    Many of us find it hard to put ourselves first, even though our need for self-care may be huge. Treatments and ongoing medication may leave us fatigued and with numerous side-effects that are difficult to explain to others, and so many of us battle on every day feeling low and tired. Many of us have demanding jobs, family responsibilities, caring roles, and so on, and today's society demands a lot from all of us.


    It's hard to slow down and find time to look after ourselves in a world that values busyness. Self-compassion is a value we advocate in our group, but it seems that many of us find it extremely hard to practice it. By contrast, some of us are worried that our self-care is close to laziness and we are good at avoiding chores in the name of needing to rest! 


    A few of us have given ourselves permission to be happy. So many of us see ourselves as responsible for everyone else's happiness, which of course we cannot control, and so we never rest because we cannot control how others feel. If we are to address this tendency, we must put ourselves first and attend to our needs before others - the well-known idea that we must put on our own oxygen mask on the failing plane before fitting others' masks. Sometimes we need all of our energy for ourselves, we may need to ask for help, we may need to listen to our bodies and treat ourselves with the kindness we show others. 

    Resilience can come from acknowledging that it isn't what happens to us that matters, but how we react and what we can do about it. If we are wise and insightful, we can exploit our weaknesses and move our vulnerability towards strength via blending, melting and moulding. It is not easy and for many, our breast cancer diagnosis brings fatigue and low mood, perhaps depression. However if we can sit up and take notice of the moment, acknowledging the beauty and joy in the everyday and succumb to a craving for life, this can carry us forward. We may seek a bucket list of new and exciting experiences, we may look for quiet moments of joy. As Naz reminds us, vulnerability and strength are two sides of the same coin: you cannot have one without the other.

Searching for the Hero Inside

 

"Who/What is the hero inside yourself?" In BRiC we have talked about what we are proud of, what makes us strong, what it is that keeps us going through all we have to endure?

    Sometimes it’s difficult to see oneself as any kind of hero, more often we are focused on day to day tasks, the mundane roles we play, or the struggles and pain we deal with. Often we don’t see our own strength or our inner hero until we have time to stop and reflect on events, be those in the recent or distant past.

    

    It was interesting that many of our members opened their contribution to this discussion by describing how they struggled to find their hero within. As the discussion progressed we found our strengths and saw the beauty inside ourselves. Strength was a recurring theme, many of us talked about an inner strength, often brought to the fore by our breast cancer diagnosis; being faced with our mortality and the trauma of cancer awakened what one member called her “steely core”.

    

     We found courage and determination, stoicism and self-awareness, we realised that we are often stronger than we knew. A few members related that they were now braver than before, they were willing to try new things and were less afraid of failing. “With cancer suddenly thrown into my path, I realised I had no reason NOT to try, so I did.”

    Lots of us talked about how our parents were a huge part of building that strength, some by their support and example, others because they weren’t the parents we needed, but still taught us valuable lessons. Dads especially seemed to instil in us self-belief and resilience. Memories of childhood experiences both good and bad were frequently mentioned and it was generally agreed that being surrounded by love allowed us to grow stronger.

    

    We talked about nurturing our inner hero, practising self-care and not worrying if we have bad days; safe in the knowledge that we are tough enough to get through it and things will get better. Some of us were proud of being able to acknowledge when we need help, of finding the courage to ask for help and accepting it when offered. Asking for help actually takes a lot of strength and courage. It’s as important to understand our own vulnerability as it is to be proud of our strength. We are proud of keeping going when things are difficult, of getting up when we are knocked down and of helping others despite our own problems. One member said her inner hero came from her innate kindness.

    

    It was acknowledged that we all have wobbly days, that we can’t be strong all the time and that we are a work in progress. For many of us our inner hero comes from the ability to step back, to say no and to choose our path. We know that we are complex beings, our emotions are part of who we are and we both absorb and reflect our life experiences; for our group breast cancer is a shared experience which has affected us all, but we are each individual and our experiences are as individual as we are. Our experience has helped some of us to focus on ourselves, to never lose hope, to see the bright side, to be true to ourselves, to value ourselves and to take time for that hero within. It’s also helped us to face those bad days, to overcome the negativity, but to accept that we won’t always be happy and smiling; that it’s fine to be sad sometimes, to be angry, to cry, to scream and shout if we need to.

    

    Our inner hero was described as a many faceted diamond, the faces all different colours, some dark, some bright, reflecting our emotions, but whether dark or bright the diamond still sparkles. This is our inner hero, the woman who keeps going through it all, who has good and bad days, but never quite loses her glow. Sometimes we might find it hard to believe that there is a hero in there, sometimes we might feel we aren’t good enough, that we are failing, but if we stop for a moment and remember all we’ve done, all those things we are.