A journey through breast cancer

The first chemotherapy
My sister accompanied me on my first chemotherapy. I felt almost faint from fright. However, the chemo went well. I was having Taxol and Epirubicin. Taxol takes a long time to deliver because it can give a bad reaction if administered quickly. I finally left the hospital at a quarter to midnight - straight home for a few glasses of wine.

The anti-sickness medication is great, and I did not feel bad at all throughout the chemotherapy. I got a little tired towards the end but managed to keep working and going to the gym - I had to work as I couldn't afford, as a single person, to have my salary reduced at all.

The chemotherapy caused all my hair to fall out, and I mean all. I was shiny bald. Before having chemo I had shoulder-length straight hair. Now my hair is short and choppy and initially was very curly. And the chemotherapy hadn't shrunk the lump as much as was needed to avoid a mastectomy. I had been hoping for a lumpectomy. I had the operation in May and then had radiotherapy which ended mid-August.

Histology showed that the cancer had progressed to my pectoral muscle and that I had a second tumour. My tumour was aggressive and grew rapidly. If I had not spotted the lump when I did, things could have been very different for me. I did not ever do self-examinations. If I had, I would have discovered the lump in time to avoid a mastectomy. Of course a mastectomy is not the worst thing - much worse is the real possibility that the cancer may have spread to other areas - especially as it was so large.

What's happened with my family
There has been a huge impact on my family during this last couple of years. My daughters have had a terrible time - my ex-husband has been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's as well. My mum has spent a lot of the time almost distraught. It's awful to watch your own children suffer, and I truly believe she would have opted to have the cancer instead of me if she could, bless her. My sister, who lives in Italy, was flying back and forth like mad during my treatment.

I went on small holidays several times during the treatment to escape from thinking about cancer all the time, but every holiday I went on before the end of treatment was poignant - I truly believed that this would be the last time I would see these places.

Moving on
I have had plenty of times when I have laughed heartily through the treatment - it didn't rob me of my sense of humour. But, it did rob me of my happiness. It's hard to feel happy when you think you may die.

So now I am two years (almost) down the line and today I feel different from how I did at the point of diagnosis. My goalposts have moved. I am now waiting for a reconstruction operation (due 1 November), and this has become important to me - a far cry from when I felt they could take both breasts! I want to feel I can confidently start a new relationship, and this holds me back.

On a daily basis I have to admit that I do think about breast cancer, but I don't dwell on it much anymore. When I do dwell on it, I feel angry that my arrogant certainty that I would have a long life has been taken from me. I was keeping money in an investment for my retirement as I don't have much of a pension, and I was considering investing more each month into my pension plan to boost it?. Not anymore. I need that money now to enjoy my life as it is.

It feels like I can just glimpse a huge black cloud on the periphery of my vision, or a feeling that something bad is going to happen, not even something tangible? It just hovers slightly out of reach.

It's where I want it - I can't forget I have had breast cancer, nor do I want it in my face every day, but my life as it is now is structured differently than it would have been had I not had cancer. In the past I was able to deal with whatever life threw at me, and I had some very traumatic times. I haven't dwelt on them and never let them intrude in my life once they have passed, but with a breast cancer diagnosis it's not easy to do that. No-one can tell me it's truly gone, that it won't come back. So now I've started counselling to help me deal with the fact that there is now something bad in my life that I cannot put aside and forget.

Keeping my spirits up
Since I completed treatment mid-August 2004 I have been to France (driving 700 miles almost non-stop just two days after my last radiotherapy), Cornwall, Italy, Sweden, sailing around Elba (Italian island), Lake District on a canoeing/camping trip, and have just returned from America, where I spent time in the Florida Keys, Fort Lauderdale and Orlando. My next trip is planned after my reconstruction operation - Thailand in February.

So, yes life goes on, it's there to be lived and enjoyed. I don't think about the future so much anymore, and only plan for a maximum of six months ahead. It's how I deal with the uncertainty...

As of October 2005 Jackie is waiting for a reconstruction operation