On the 28th July 2011, my life changed in one phone call with the simple words - 'yes - it's cancer'. I've created this blog, for the benefit of my wonderful close and extended family; and for my amazing friends around the globe, so I can keep you abreast (!) of my journey.

My diagnosis of 2 x grade 3 (fast growing) tumours - type - 'Triple-Negative' - so called
because it doesn’t
have receptors (proteins on the surface
of cells) for the hormones oestrogen and
progesterone, or a protein called HER2, was shocking. This rare aggressive sub-type of breast cancer, therefore, doesn't respond to common
hormonal treatments, such as tamoxifen or
anastrozole (Arimidex®
) or
trastuzumab (Herceptin®
). Survival rates are considerably lower, than for more common types of breast cancer, especially in years 0 - 5, but on a par 5+ years post treatment.

Fast forward to December 2020. Secondary cancer . Triple negative again but the tumour localised to the scar of the primary cancer. The prognosis is weaker. I am buying myself time - with chemo currency.

This will not be a sad tale - but I hope it will amuse you, inspire you, and most of all allow me to lean on you from afar, as you guide me through what looks like a rocky road ahead.

I can't guarantee a happy ending, but hope to make you laugh to the end.

Monday, 18 January 2021

The results are in...

I'm called back to the hospital a week later. I take Gary with me. I may get news I might not like. We wait to see Mrs Conway. Both Gary and I have nervous tummies. The 'What ifs' are swirling round our heads. We are ushered in. Mrs Conway speaks. It's triple negative again. The most aggressive of breast cancers. Already grade 3 so well advanced. We need a full mastectomy and chemotherapy. No radiotherapy this time as apparently I've had my quota. Nothing to do with NHS supplies - it's to do with how much my body can take. We discuss reconstruction. They don't do it in Barnstaple so I'd have to go to Exeter. But there's a waiting list and no beds in Exeter (Covid) and with this being aggressive cancer, we don't have the luxury of time. I accept my fate. I'll be a one tit wonder. 'Just one tassel for me Doris!'. At first glance of my scan there appears to be no spreading 'Yay' - she'll confirm later. What's the likely outcome? I ask. It's more than likely this will come back a third time. I find this news hard to swallow. What? I'll have to do this again and again? 'Well at least you know what you're going to die of,' Gary offers helpfully.....

I know I need to tell my friends. I write to some, I call some, I email some, I message some. I hate to be the bearer of bad news but I want them to hear it from me. Like all good friends - and I'm lucky - I've got a few, they rally round, send amazing messages of good hope, of practical help and good dollop British humour. I need that. One friend Paul, who I've known since infants school, suggests I tell 2021 that I got a cooling off period and a better deal to take me to 2022. A fine idea.

I'm going for a nuclear scan on Tuesday 19th Jan at Exeter. A nuclear substance injected in so they can locate the lymph nodes during the op, for removal. The naughty cancer travels to the lymph nodes first if its going to spread. Full  operation scheduled for Wednesday 20th Jan. Taking Gary with me for the scan. You know. Just in case. I don't want a bit part in Holby City even if my acting skills were realistic.

Wish me luck!

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