Archives for posts with tag: testicular cancer

Happy New Year and good riddance to the last one!

It’s fair to say 2012 was the worst year of my life, even without the cancer. But it had plenty of redeeming factors, for which I couldn’t feel more grateful and lucky. And I am genuinely feeling very excited about my new adventures in 2013, starting today with my return to Dublin.

Over the past few days I’ve been feeling extremely lucky indeed. Why? Because I spent the last week reading Please Don’t Go, the autobiographical account of the Welsh footballer John Hartson‘s horrific experience of testicular cancer. For those who don’t know his story, John ignored a lump in his testicle for years, until his head ached so badly he couldn’t even open his eyes and he began vomiting a murky grey liquid and was rushed to hospital. He was diagnosed with testicular cancer, which had already spread to his lungs and brain, and his body was riddled with tumours. He came very close to death but came through it all with the support of his family and friends and his own steely determination.

In the past few days, I also found out about friends of friends who have just died of cancer. All of the above are in their 30s, so all these tales really hit home with me. I realise I have spent most of my cancer journey in a bubble of positivity, knowing I will be fine and never once thinking the cancer would kill me. But the simple fact is, cancer does kill, and if I’d ignored the lump, it could have spread and killed me.

I am lucky that my cancer presented itself in the form of a lump, so I would notice it. I am lucky I went back for a second opinion and eventually was diagnosed. I am even more lucky the cancer didn’t spread in the four months between the first and second lot of tests. I am lucky I had private medical care. I am lucky I had my parents to look after me throughout the entire process. I am lucky I didn’t have to have blood transfusions. Although the chemo made me ill, the cancer itself never once made me ill, because it didn’t get the chance. At the time of diagnosis, I felt the best I had felt in a long time. And I could put up with the chemo making me ill, because it’s making me better. I am lucky I’m alive.

Simply put, I am lucky.

John Hartson says the answer to the question “Why me?” might be that he is a famous footballer and therefore is in a perfect position to raise awareness. So perhaps the answer to “Why me?” in my case is that I write, and I can raise awareness through my writing. I also think there are personal reasons for my getting cancer – some I know already, and others I’m yet to discover.

John has done a brilliant job of raising awareness for testicular cancer and this year I will do my best to raise awareness of breast cancer. Aside from the blog, I can’t wait to get back to running, and hopefully at some point I can raise some money for a breast cancer charity. If you have any ideas, let me know.

2012 was simply a horrible year for me, but I’m so excited about 2013. Even though I have two months of radiotherapy still to come, I know I’m on the final strait and in control of what lies ahead. I just want to thank you all for all the wonderful support, whether it be through reading and commenting on my blogs, sending me stuff in the post or being there for me in person at some point during this awful journey.

There’s a link here to a blog I have written for Breast Cancer Care UK with my Five Resolutions for a Cancer-Free New Year: http://www.breastcancercare.org.uk/news/blog/five-resolutions-cancer-free-new-year

All that remains to be said, to steal a quote from a fellow cancer-sufferer: “Cancer is so last year”.

So I’m done with surgery and six rounds of chemo for my breast cancer, but if you thought that was the end of my treatment, you’re in for a surprise – I still have a good couple of months of radiotherapy to go!

Firstly, you may be wondering what radiotherapy really is. I have often wondered the same myself, and have provided such vague answers to my friends as “Well, you lie on a machine and they sort of ‘radiotherap’ you… Erm, I mean, they give you radiation on your boobs” or something like that. I never know the right verb. So here’s a better definition, courtesy of the St Luke’s Hospital breast cancer radiotherapy guide:

“Radiotherapy uses carefully measured doses of radiation to treat many conditions, most of which are cancers… A high dose of radiation damages cells and stops them from growing and dividing. Cancer cells, which are abnormal cells, tend not to recover… Radiotherapy is given to the same part of the body each day.”

I have to have 33 sessions of radio – that’s every day, Monday-Friday for 6 1/2 weeks, starting Jan. 2. That includes 25 sessions of radiotherapy on my whole breast and a further 8 sessions just in the area where the tumour was. Each session only lasts 10-20 minutes though, so it’s not like chemo, and I should be done by the end of February.

So, this Thursday (Dec. 27) I’m going back to Dublin for the day to have a CT scan to determine the exact location for my treatment (my left boob). I then have to have two permanent tattoos done somewhere near my boobs so that the doctors can line the radiotherapy equipment up in the exact same place each time according to my markings. The tattoos are basically just two tiny little specks, like small freckles, but I’m thinking maybe I could have them elaborated into something bigger in a year or so!? Perhaps a “Cancer woz ere” or some little symbols… Hmm!

I will then return to Dublin on Jan. 1 to start the treatment the following day and hopefully return to work as much as I can. Unlike chemotherapy, radiotherapy doesn’t make you feel sick and is generally seen as the kinder of the two treatments. However, it still has its own set of side effects, such as making the skin very sore, irritated and red for a few months. The main side effect of radiotherapy is the tiredness, which gets worse and worse as the treatment goes on, and lasts for a month or so afterwards. And, in a very small percentage of people, (I think 3 in 1,000), radiotherapy can cause another type of cancer later down the line, so fingers crossed I’m not that unlucky.

The good news is radiotherapy won’t stop my hair growing back. Phew.

So… that’s that. Goodbye chemo for 2012, welcome radiotherapy for 2013!

This will probably be my last post before Christmas, so here’s wishing you all a very merry Christmas. Thanks to all those of you who’ve sent me very thoughtful cards and things – I have definitely received more than I would in a non-cancerous year so it’s nice that you’re all thinking of me!

And finally, a special thanks to John Hartson and his sister Victoria, who very kindly sent me a signed copy of “Please Don’t Go,” John’s book about his own battle with cancer. I’m looking forward to reading it!

Happy Christmas from me! xx

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