Where do I begin?

Well, this is something I never thought I would be doing. When I was diagnosed with Bowel Cancer 15 months ago, several people suggested that I should document and share my journey. My reaction to that was along the lines of "don't be silly, my story is nothing special.....and what would I say anyway?" However, as time as gone on, I have changed my stance a bit and as I lay awake in a post-chemo haze one night I decided that now is the time. I have been touched and inspired by other people's cancer Blogs so hope that in some little way I may be able to do the same for someone else that might be going through a similar ridiculous journey. I also understand the curiosity around what its like to live with this kind of diagnosis as it is so far removed from most people's reality.

I decided to call this Blog "Just another Cancer Blog" as there are literally thousands of cancer Blogs out there. With each of us having a one in three risk of developing cancer at some stage in our lives, I still maintain that my story is nothing special. I guess a point of difference is my young age, however my new social circle includes several others like me so it probably feels like it is more common than perhaps it actually is. And in relation to my last objection to writing a Blog, no doubt I will run out of things to say, but here goes.

On 9th August 2012, at the age of 33, and on the way to work one random Thursday, I was diagnosed with Stage 3 Bowel Cancer. The weirdest part of this absurdity was that I have always considered myself to be in excellent health. Apart from having my Tonsils and Adenoids removed when I was a toddler and a couple of minor sinus surgeries in my teens and twenties, I had largely avoided hospitals until this point. I hardly even had cause to visit my GP, other than countless trips back and forth for the kids. I probably saw him once a year to two years if that. Looking back, in the couple of weeks leading up to my diagnosis I was more tired than usual but I had put that down to starting a new job. I also had a niggling discomfort in my back passage that turned from discomfort to pain within a few days which, along with a few other unsavory symptoms, prompted a trip to the GP. I was fortunate enough to see a colorectal specialist two days later and he was able to diagnose me on the spot (thanks to modern scope technology). The next two weeks were a blur of procedures and scans to nut down the exact extent of my illness. 

Tears were shed and it was fair to say Bryan (my husband) and I were in a state of shock but also being the pragmatic people we are, just focused on what appointments we had each day and where we had to be when. We also had two young children at home (Zach was about to turn 5 and start school, and Paige was 2.5) so going through the motions each day at home to keep things as normal as possible for them was very important to us. We also decided early on that we had two choices - to cope or not cope. We agreed that if we decided we could not cope then the fall out would be far worse than the alternative. So on we went.

Once the definitive diagnosis was reached, the plan was to have six weeks of daily radiotherapy (coupled with Capecitabine, an oral Chemotherapy), a six week recovery period, extensive bowel surgery in late November, another six week recovery period and then six months of Chemotherapy (Xelox) given 3-weekly.

Back then, I truly believed (based on what the docs had told us and what I knew about my disease) that this was going to be a journey lasting approximately one year, and then we could get back to "normal." One year out of our lives was going to be a bit of a bummer, could have done without it, but at least its only a year yada yada yada. However, everything changed on 26th November 2012. During my surgery my surgeon discovered that even though no liver metastases had been detected by MRI or PET scan in the week prior to my surgery, my liver was indeed riddled with small tumours. I was no longer considered a curable patient, I had now been moved into the "Palliative" category and was told the median survival for people in my situation was 2 years. 

It is now almost one year to the day since then, and I am still well, and even though I still have tumours in my liver, (thanks to Chemotherapy) they are no bigger in size or number than they were a year ago and there is no new disease. I never accepted that I only had 2 years, and I still don't. I see it as a goal to reach, and then exceed. Anyone that knows me is hopefully having a giggle about now. I also feel inspired by a new friend who has made it to the 5 year mark against all the odds and is still fighting. If I can get to 5 years then I will be getting close to 40 and my kids will get to have their Mum that bit longer.