Lost and Found

Tuesday, 22^nd August 2023 was a mild, winter’s day.  An ordinary day.

On this day at around 3.30pm, I walked to my appointment at Benson Radiology without a care in the world.  It was for my routine nine-year post-breast cancer mammogram.

I did not need company or support for this appointment.  Eight clear mammograms give you confidence, puts a reassuring distance between you and your diagnosis. In fact, the last couple of mammogram appointments I had gone on my own but this one was the first time that I walked in truly feeling it was in fact just routine.

I actually now work for the kind-hearted surgeon who diagnosed me the first time.  I got to know him and his beautiful staff so well during my 2-year post-op treatment that when an opportunity came for someone to join their team they called me.  My dream job and I am grateful every day that I get to work with them all.

Anyway, routine is routine. Until it is not.

Having had my mammogram I sat in the change room.  I can see myself leaning against the wall of that cubicle, still in the clinical navy blue gown worn over my skirt, mindlessly scrolling on my phone, waiting for the words, “All clear you can get dressed now”  from the radiographer.

Instead, the door opened and I saw not one but two lovely faces.  The radiographer on duty (the one in charge of checking all imaging) and the technician who did the mammogram.

“Lory, would you be ok if we did an ultrasound today?” the radiographer asked quietly.

The words, “You are kidding?” flew out of my mouth which had become dry within seconds.

Back into the treatment room I was led.  Lying on the cold bed they exposed my right breast. Last time it was my left.  I was immediately confused. The right side?  What the hell!  The cold gel was applied and like a PTSD flashback, I remembered the sensation last time of the ultrasound wand going over and over the same spot, investigating, pushing, and pressing.  I put my left arm over my eyes and thought to myself, I think I am in trouble here.

In that instant, I had again lost control over my health after fighting so hard to get it back.

Things move fast in cancer land and given that my breast cancer surgeon is now my boss things moved for me very, very quickly.  By the time I had walked back to work after the ultrasound, teary, breathless and completely blindsided, he and my beautiful friends had arranged for core biopsies the next day at 8.30am.  No mean feat.  I was wrapped up in their bubble of love.

At a speed that is as reassuring as it is terrifying, I had a confirmed new breast cancer diagnosis within 48 hours of the mammogram and ultrasound. Not a secondary cancer but a brand-new cancer, small in size but mighty in its staging.  I was booked in for surgery for another partial mastectomy with radiotherapy to follow.  Within 10 days I was home recovering post-op in my husband’s recliner chair.

Your mind has no time to process things so quickly.  It makes you dizzy.

I try to find the meaning or the why with most things that happen in my life as we all might do at some stage.   A justification that this road led to here and here is where we should be, good or bad.   But this is taking me a while to get my head around.  I did everything right last time and yet here I am again. I felt and feel so lonely even with the most amazing supportive family and friends because the weight of all this again is heavy and only I can carry it.

So here are a few things I have lost.

I lost going on a long-planned trip to New Zealand with my husband and dear friends.  Instead, I started a 3-week course of radiotherapy that couldn’t be put off.  Holidays can be retaken but one is allowed to be disappointed that instead of sipping cocktails somewhere beautiful you are now lying on a metal bed as a machine spins around you hopefully mopping up any rogue cancer cells.

I have lost security in my future health.  My next screening is in August and that will be a full MRI.  I will not be going alone to that appointment and I feel super anxious about it already.

I have lost being able to celebrate the 10-year cancer-free milestone that would have happened this August. What a party that would have been.

I have lost energy.  I feel tired, bone weary tired a lot.  Tired of my thoughts.

I have lost my spark.  Cancer has been the thief of my joy and I am working really hard on that being temporary. Again.

I have lost faith in my being here to see my future grandchildren.  My boys last time were 14 and 17 years old. I bargained back then, not sure with whom, but I said out loud one night please let me live till my boys are older and don’t need me as much.  I should have been clearer and asked for decades.

But through this I have of course found a few things too.

A strength I didn’t know I had to just keep going.  Get up and put the mask on as people really want you to be back to “normal” very quickly.  I wanted to get back to work which is an environment equal parts nurturing and confronting.  But if I can reach across to a patient, touch their hand and say I understand, really understand how they might be feeling and am here to help, well maybe that’s why my roads have led me this way.

I found an opportunity for some emotional blackmail. My eldest son is a beautiful young man, very private, who carries the weight of responsibility that being the oldest child often does.  He took time off work to take me to one of my first investigative appointments.  As we sat there together, quietly, both preoccupied with our own, “What if it’s back?” thoughts, I took the opportunity to lighten the mood.  He had been seeing a girl for a little while, but we were yet to meet her and other than, “She is lovely” he hadn’t shared too much information about her to date.

“Jesse?”

“Yes, Mum?”

“Given I could be about to find out I have got cancer again do you think I could have ten questions about your new girl to take my mind off things?”

We both laughed out loud as he replied, “I don’t know if I would know the answer to ten questions about her.” 😊

I found a fabulous psychologist.  I didn’t need this extra support last time but seeing her has been the most cathartic experience of my life.

No wonder most of America is in therapy. It’s therapeutic! Highly recommend.

I have found deeper love and connections with my family and friends.  I have found that I am truly loved and that has been shown in so many different ways, listening ears, company on walks, big hugs, flowers, candles and home-cooked meals.

I have found new levels of appreciation for those who continue to show up for me long after physical wounds have started to heal. For anyone dear to you suffering a trauma of some kind can I suggest circling a date in your diary 3 months on to reach out, check in.  I can guarantee it will mean the world to your person as when the dust settles things are far from over.

Somewhere between what I have lost and what I have found is a new me. Another reinvention of the carefree girl pre-2014 and who briefly reappeared in 2023.  My prognosis is good, as it was last time, early detection is vital. We are just unsure why my body likes to grow these cancers.

So, moving forward, I just hope that cancer will be lost to me forever but I am so grateful they were found when they were.