Author: Sarah
Once upon a while ago I felt almost invincible.
The days were short the years rushed by and I presumed I'd look old age in the eye.
One day last year all that changed when I found out some of my cells had become deranged.
I felt I would soon be dead, it filled me with enormous dread
I imagined motherless kids and my husband an empty bed.
The mist it gathered all around all I could do was keep close to the ground.
I felt my way through those first few days all senses were numb is all I can say.
Loved ones tried to help
me by but the fear and the hurt was in their eyes.
Friends some left which made me more bereft.
The game of life had rolled my dice and the number I'd got didn't feel that nice.
The mists still remained, my life was so pained my thoughts and my fears were driving me insane.
Alone I felt and alone I was despite my lovely family I felt just one.
A girl in a waiting room one day mentioned a group that might help along the way.
A break in the clouds, a chink of light, help me along well this just might.
That break it grew what a difference it could make I hardly knew then a beautiful rainbow came bursting through.
It grew and grew right down to my feet and the feeling I got had me glued to my seat.
One by one ladies slid down the rainbow into my life saying hello and lifting the mist and strife.
Ladies all with a common goal get through this time and climb out the hole.
A funny little setup the laughs don't often let up but we deal with death and fear the harsh reality of life is clear.
We are all facing the sniper we don't know which of us he's after the uncertainty is difficult for anyone outside to capture.
We listen and guide, we laugh and we've cried, we do our best to maintain some pride.
We find a way to muddle through because that's what we have to do but why it works and how it helps is simple an equation from an easy maths shelf.
I+I=We
Younger Breast Cancer Network
This post refers to the support from the Younger Breast Cancer Network UK - a support and chat group for young women with a breast cancer diagnosis in the UK.
For more information see the YBCN Facebook page.
You can also follow YBCN on Twitter @YBCN_UK
Monday, 15 June 2015
Dear Chemo
Author: Sarah
Dear Chemo
I'm writing to tell you we're through, I've just had enough of you.
I am so glad we're done and I can't say it's been fun.
You've taken some of my hair up top and all from downstairs.
You've taken my lashes and given me rashes.
You've stolen some joy and made me quite coy.
You've made me frown and sometimes feel very down.
You've been vicious and with you nothing tastes delicious.
You've caused frequent tears and plenty of fears.
You've made me swell and feel of my normal friends quite jel.
You've burnt my veins and blocked up my personal drains!
You've stolen my nose hair and left my eyebrows bare.
You've made my eyes water and given me bum traumas.
You've embarrassed me beyond belief making my nose run down past my teeth.
You've made me vomit and being pain free, well far from it.
You've messed with my mind and to a social life left me quite blind.
You've caused friends to pity me and even stopped me drinking tea.
You've caused me to miss so much and I hate my life thus.
This can't go on what you do to my body is all wrong.
Our relationship is done but the reality makes me quite numb.
Leaving you makes sense but the last 5 months have been so intense.
I'll miss you, your routine, your support, your highs, your lows but you are too much for me I can't take you anymore.
But before I walk out the door for hopefully the last time I want to say Thank you. Without you my future life would look so very different to how it looks today, in fact it would be even more uncertain.
You've moulded me, changed me, stripped me bare and beaten me down but I will rise again and I will rebuild myself stronger more resilient, healthier and happier than before and I will live! Thanks to you, Chemo.
PS can we stay friends I just want to hedge my bets just in case I can't live without you.
Goodbye with love from the bottom of my heart under my wonky boobed chest!
Sarah
Dear Chemo
I'm writing to tell you we're through, I've just had enough of you.
I am so glad we're done and I can't say it's been fun.
You've taken some of my hair up top and all from downstairs.
You've taken my lashes and given me rashes.
You've stolen some joy and made me quite coy.
You've made me frown and sometimes feel very down.
You've been vicious and with you nothing tastes delicious.
You've caused frequent tears and plenty of fears.
You've made me swell and feel of my normal friends quite jel.
You've burnt my veins and blocked up my personal drains!
You've stolen my nose hair and left my eyebrows bare.
You've made my eyes water and given me bum traumas.
You've embarrassed me beyond belief making my nose run down past my teeth.
You've made me vomit and being pain free, well far from it.
You've messed with my mind and to a social life left me quite blind.
You've caused friends to pity me and even stopped me drinking tea.
You've caused me to miss so much and I hate my life thus.
This can't go on what you do to my body is all wrong.
Our relationship is done but the reality makes me quite numb.
Leaving you makes sense but the last 5 months have been so intense.
I'll miss you, your routine, your support, your highs, your lows but you are too much for me I can't take you anymore.
But before I walk out the door for hopefully the last time I want to say Thank you. Without you my future life would look so very different to how it looks today, in fact it would be even more uncertain.
You've moulded me, changed me, stripped me bare and beaten me down but I will rise again and I will rebuild myself stronger more resilient, healthier and happier than before and I will live! Thanks to you, Chemo.
PS can we stay friends I just want to hedge my bets just in case I can't live without you.
Goodbye with love from the bottom of my heart under my wonky boobed chest!
Sarah
Sunday, 7 June 2015
Angry
Author: Kim F
Angry
Yes this is what I think I am...angry.
Angry I got cancer.
Angry I got it at 30.
Angry I got diagnosed 6 months after my 2nd beautiful boy was born.
Angry that our perfect family was torn apart.
Angry that life will never be the same again.
Angry that Im having to mourn the care free life we had.
Angry that it has made me hate how my body looks
Angry that it has made me super self conscious.
Angry that every ache or pain I have now, my head automatically thinks 'it's spread' and panic hits.
Angry that I am now jealous of everyone that are living their lives without these worries.
Angry that my boys may end up growing up without their mummy.
Angry that my husband may lose his wife.
Angry that I can't let go of the anger and be happier.
I am hoping one day soon this will all fade away. I know it won't go completely but it should at least let me really enjoy the life I actually have with my amazing family and friends. Xxx
Angry
Yes this is what I think I am...angry.
Angry I got cancer.
Angry I got it at 30.
Angry I got diagnosed 6 months after my 2nd beautiful boy was born.
Angry that our perfect family was torn apart.
Angry that life will never be the same again.
Angry that Im having to mourn the care free life we had.
Angry that it has made me hate how my body looks
Angry that it has made me super self conscious.
Angry that every ache or pain I have now, my head automatically thinks 'it's spread' and panic hits.
Angry that I am now jealous of everyone that are living their lives without these worries.
Angry that my boys may end up growing up without their mummy.
Angry that my husband may lose his wife.
Angry that I can't let go of the anger and be happier.
I am hoping one day soon this will all fade away. I know it won't go completely but it should at least let me really enjoy the life I actually have with my amazing family and friends. Xxx
Tuesday, 2 June 2015
My new body
Author: Anonymous
Of the many experiences I faced during cancer treatment, one that sticks with me very distinctly is the experience of going to the hospital the day before surgery to be marked up.
During treatment for Breast Cancer, there are many times when you can feel a lack of dignity: there is a lot of prodding and poking of “the lump”; having an MRI involves lying on your front with your boobs hanging through some carefully places openings in the table; having the DIEP surgery, as I did, led to several appointments in which my plastic surgeon studied my breasts in great detail and grabbed at my tummy fat in an approving manner, pleased with the quantities he had to work with! However, throughout these experiences, I usually felt as if I was being treated as a human, my feelings were considered and everyone involved was doing their utmost to think of me as a person and the effects it was having on me.
Then came the “marking up”. I don’t know if this happens in the same way in all hospitals, but for mine I had to go in the day before surgery to have this done, and although I can understand the reasoning (to save time on the day of the op for what was a very long procedure) I can’t help but thinking there must be a better way.
“Marking up” involved exactly what it sounds like. A doctor with a large marker pen, writing on me showing where they would operate, marking out the area of tummy to be taken, the position of the blood vessels, which would be transferred with the tummy fat to keep my remoulded breast alive. The marking itself took about an hour after which I went home to spend a sleepless night worrying about what was going to happen the next day. On returning home, I spent some time looking at myself in the mirror, staring at the lines and markings, the large arrow pointing to my left breast, ensuring they would take the correct one.
For the first time in this experience, I felt that the medics had hit far wide of the mark. I didn’t feel like a human person, but a thing to be manipulated and worked on. This marking has scarred my mind almost as much as the ensuing surgery has scarred my body.
Marking Up
Matter-of-factly
she pulls out the marker pen
as if to jot down ideas from a group brainstorm,
or write a “NO PARKING” sign.
But the pen is for me.
I uncover my body and become her flipchart, her paper.
She draws around my nipple,
which once nourished my beautiful babies,
An action so intimate, yet so different from my husband’s loving touch
An arrow marks the side to be taken.
Across my stomach, dotted lines:
‘Cut Here’ marks show where they must take their clay to shape my new breast.
I stare in the mirror
Blank eyes look back
My body, once familiar
now looks like a paper pattern for a sewing project.
A new body will be formed.
I must say goodbye to the feel of my husband’s gentle touch, the sight of my child’s mouth suckling.
I am me, but not me
A year has passed since I had my surgery. Medically speaking it has been a success: the cancer was all removed; the reconstruction all healed well and looks pretty good. My head will take a little longer to recover. I still have days where I regret even having the reconstruction in the first place. I can look at myself in the mirror, but it still feels like it’s not me that is looking back.
I am taking small steps to take back my body again. I’m trying to exercise and have taken up yoga. The yoga classes, led by a wonderful teacher, have been the most useful way of getting back in touch with my body. I really lost faith in my body. I felt I didn't understand it, that it had let me down and I could no longer trust it. It was almost as if my body didn’t belong to me, it belonged to the plastic surgeon who created it. Over the past few months, I have started to build trust in my body again, to find out what it can do (and what it can't), to understand what it is telling me and to listen to it. I still miss my old body, but I’m heading in the right direction.
Of the many experiences I faced during cancer treatment, one that sticks with me very distinctly is the experience of going to the hospital the day before surgery to be marked up.
During treatment for Breast Cancer, there are many times when you can feel a lack of dignity: there is a lot of prodding and poking of “the lump”; having an MRI involves lying on your front with your boobs hanging through some carefully places openings in the table; having the DIEP surgery, as I did, led to several appointments in which my plastic surgeon studied my breasts in great detail and grabbed at my tummy fat in an approving manner, pleased with the quantities he had to work with! However, throughout these experiences, I usually felt as if I was being treated as a human, my feelings were considered and everyone involved was doing their utmost to think of me as a person and the effects it was having on me.
Then came the “marking up”. I don’t know if this happens in the same way in all hospitals, but for mine I had to go in the day before surgery to have this done, and although I can understand the reasoning (to save time on the day of the op for what was a very long procedure) I can’t help but thinking there must be a better way.
“Marking up” involved exactly what it sounds like. A doctor with a large marker pen, writing on me showing where they would operate, marking out the area of tummy to be taken, the position of the blood vessels, which would be transferred with the tummy fat to keep my remoulded breast alive. The marking itself took about an hour after which I went home to spend a sleepless night worrying about what was going to happen the next day. On returning home, I spent some time looking at myself in the mirror, staring at the lines and markings, the large arrow pointing to my left breast, ensuring they would take the correct one.
For the first time in this experience, I felt that the medics had hit far wide of the mark. I didn’t feel like a human person, but a thing to be manipulated and worked on. This marking has scarred my mind almost as much as the ensuing surgery has scarred my body.
Marking Up
Matter-of-factly
she pulls out the marker pen
as if to jot down ideas from a group brainstorm,
or write a “NO PARKING” sign.
But the pen is for me.
I uncover my body and become her flipchart, her paper.
She draws around my nipple,
which once nourished my beautiful babies,
An action so intimate, yet so different from my husband’s loving touch
An arrow marks the side to be taken.
Across my stomach, dotted lines:
‘Cut Here’ marks show where they must take their clay to shape my new breast.
I stare in the mirror
Blank eyes look back
My body, once familiar
now looks like a paper pattern for a sewing project.
A new body will be formed.
I must say goodbye to the feel of my husband’s gentle touch, the sight of my child’s mouth suckling.
I am me, but not me
A year has passed since I had my surgery. Medically speaking it has been a success: the cancer was all removed; the reconstruction all healed well and looks pretty good. My head will take a little longer to recover. I still have days where I regret even having the reconstruction in the first place. I can look at myself in the mirror, but it still feels like it’s not me that is looking back.
I am taking small steps to take back my body again. I’m trying to exercise and have taken up yoga. The yoga classes, led by a wonderful teacher, have been the most useful way of getting back in touch with my body. I really lost faith in my body. I felt I didn't understand it, that it had let me down and I could no longer trust it. It was almost as if my body didn’t belong to me, it belonged to the plastic surgeon who created it. Over the past few months, I have started to build trust in my body again, to find out what it can do (and what it can't), to understand what it is telling me and to listen to it. I still miss my old body, but I’m heading in the right direction.
Saturday, 9 May 2015
Facing Cancer in the Mirror
Author: Heather L
Facing Cancer in the Mirror
My body is a constellation of stars
Each one a different lifetime,
How things were, how they are, how they still might be
Burning white hot, but also blazing with the fire of existence
Sometimes I can’t breathe
Overwhelmed by the magnitude of the starry sky
But for today, and maybe tomorrow too
It is a map to find my way out of the darkness.
Facing Cancer in the Mirror
My body is a constellation of stars
Each one a different lifetime,
How things were, how they are, how they still might be
Burning white hot, but also blazing with the fire of existence
Sometimes I can’t breathe
Overwhelmed by the magnitude of the starry sky
But for today, and maybe tomorrow too
It is a map to find my way out of the darkness.
Not so fast!
Author: Christina B
So I'm three weeks post surgery and I'm at home alone for the first day in what seems like ages! My mum has gone back to her home and my son is in school! Yaaay I've got free reign!! I'm pain free and ready to roll!! Being the diva that I am I've already arranged to get my eyelashes extensions done so I can start at least looking a bit more bright eyed. In combination with my new swishy wig and long Miss Thing thigh boots I'm going to be feeling pretty good by the end of the day.
I get ready and have a banana for breakfast, true to style I've woke up early but give myself just enough time to get ready before the taxi comes. I can't get fully showered, teeth done and dressed with light make up in under 1/2 hour anymore. Dressing that tit adds on an easy extra 12-15 mins. I loved the satisfaction pre cancer of knowing that I could go from looking like urghh to full on drag/ wag like status in 30 mins, but alas these days getting ready is laborious. Firstly I can't move my arm as quickly as before and secondly I don't have the range of movement so this means I have to contort my body into weird positions to put on my 24hour healing sports bra followed by two sets of surgical dressings.
Anyway fast forward getting ready drama and I'm ready for the world, I jump into the taxi and off to the salon. Note I used the word jump very loosely there. On to the salon and an hour later I've got WAG lashes and am feeling sparkly bright eyed and good. I pay the salon and thank the beautician and I step outside and notice how fresh the air smells and how green the leaves look. Earth mother chick warms my soul and she decides we are going for a walk to feel nature and it's loins. I haven't "walked" for ages and it feels satisfyingly good I take deep breaths and really enjoy doing something I used to take for granted. As a child my parents used to take us walking to areas of national beauty regularly as we were members of the National Trust. I was always the moody one not wanting to get out the car or creating drama if the weather was typically British. Today though I'm embracing it all thinking how proud my dad would be to see me actively enjoying a walk and looking at trees really wondering whether they were deciduous or coniferous.
After 20 minutes walking I'm still feeling good but a bit peckish and I decide to stop at the pub to have a carvery. Albeit alone but things like that don't bother me one iota these days. 45 minutes and at least 1000 calories later I'm ready to resume my walk with full stomach determined to walk off a full roast dinner with trimmings followed by waffles, banana and ice cream.
I carry on walking but feel tired, so I walk a bit slower being frequently overtaken by pensioners or keen joggers. After another 20 minutes I approach a shopping park and decide that I'm knackered and need to call a taxi to take me home as I'm not sure a bus would be a good idea as I feel ridiculously exhausted. I go into Boots and sit down on the make up chair to catch my breath. I enjoyed getting out but I must have over done it, sensible chick pops up to scold me. What made me think I could do an hours walking today? I was unfit before all this cancer rubbish so just because I've had cancer removed does not mean they added some secret fit genes too. I'm going to have to work slowly and consistently at this fitness thing and today was a tad daft! Still, I enjoyed myself and it felt so refreshing to be outside as cabin fever was beginning to set in at home. Well at least I've got lungs full of good clean air and a fab pair of lashes. Not a bad day I just have to pace myself next time! Speed dial to taxi.....
So I'm three weeks post surgery and I'm at home alone for the first day in what seems like ages! My mum has gone back to her home and my son is in school! Yaaay I've got free reign!! I'm pain free and ready to roll!! Being the diva that I am I've already arranged to get my eyelashes extensions done so I can start at least looking a bit more bright eyed. In combination with my new swishy wig and long Miss Thing thigh boots I'm going to be feeling pretty good by the end of the day.
I get ready and have a banana for breakfast, true to style I've woke up early but give myself just enough time to get ready before the taxi comes. I can't get fully showered, teeth done and dressed with light make up in under 1/2 hour anymore. Dressing that tit adds on an easy extra 12-15 mins. I loved the satisfaction pre cancer of knowing that I could go from looking like urghh to full on drag/ wag like status in 30 mins, but alas these days getting ready is laborious. Firstly I can't move my arm as quickly as before and secondly I don't have the range of movement so this means I have to contort my body into weird positions to put on my 24hour healing sports bra followed by two sets of surgical dressings.
Anyway fast forward getting ready drama and I'm ready for the world, I jump into the taxi and off to the salon. Note I used the word jump very loosely there. On to the salon and an hour later I've got WAG lashes and am feeling sparkly bright eyed and good. I pay the salon and thank the beautician and I step outside and notice how fresh the air smells and how green the leaves look. Earth mother chick warms my soul and she decides we are going for a walk to feel nature and it's loins. I haven't "walked" for ages and it feels satisfyingly good I take deep breaths and really enjoy doing something I used to take for granted. As a child my parents used to take us walking to areas of national beauty regularly as we were members of the National Trust. I was always the moody one not wanting to get out the car or creating drama if the weather was typically British. Today though I'm embracing it all thinking how proud my dad would be to see me actively enjoying a walk and looking at trees really wondering whether they were deciduous or coniferous.
After 20 minutes walking I'm still feeling good but a bit peckish and I decide to stop at the pub to have a carvery. Albeit alone but things like that don't bother me one iota these days. 45 minutes and at least 1000 calories later I'm ready to resume my walk with full stomach determined to walk off a full roast dinner with trimmings followed by waffles, banana and ice cream.
I carry on walking but feel tired, so I walk a bit slower being frequently overtaken by pensioners or keen joggers. After another 20 minutes I approach a shopping park and decide that I'm knackered and need to call a taxi to take me home as I'm not sure a bus would be a good idea as I feel ridiculously exhausted. I go into Boots and sit down on the make up chair to catch my breath. I enjoyed getting out but I must have over done it, sensible chick pops up to scold me. What made me think I could do an hours walking today? I was unfit before all this cancer rubbish so just because I've had cancer removed does not mean they added some secret fit genes too. I'm going to have to work slowly and consistently at this fitness thing and today was a tad daft! Still, I enjoyed myself and it felt so refreshing to be outside as cabin fever was beginning to set in at home. Well at least I've got lungs full of good clean air and a fab pair of lashes. Not a bad day I just have to pace myself next time! Speed dial to taxi.....
Friends - like a spoonful of sugar
Author: Veronica P
I made it!
I had my first Chemo session and it seems that I am still in one piece! Better than that I'm doing great! :)
I still feel some obvious trepidation for the coming treatments. I know that harder days will come and it can't always be like this but... So far it's no party but I am surviving ok.
To date, the majority of advice given to me has been to grab the good days with both hands and enjoy them. Naturally, I don't normally need to be told twice to have fun ;)
This weekend I travelled to meet uni friends as we had previously arranged and it felt bloody good just to be with friends, chatting nonsense in the sun. I had almost forgotten how rich friendship can feel. How it fills your heart with lightness and joy. I am lucky to have such wonderful and caring people in my lie. I am grateful for how many forms and expressions of friendship that there are between us.
I feel full of energy for the coming days, I have been topped up with happy! Take that fears and worries!
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