The one where everything changes......... and doesn't

Please forgive the "Schrodinger’s cat" title and my inexcusable tardiness for which I will, as always, attempt to make an excuse. Lots has changed in the months following my last update and I’ll begin with the obvious.

As many of you know, I’ve been persevering with an Exec. MBA at the University of Exeter for around the last three years. It was a fantastic experience and the qualification offers real-world grounding to people who care about the legacy that they leave behind more than the personal gain that they accumulate. I was forced to take a six month break to battle the cancer jabberwocky but soon got back up to full steam and handed in my final consulting project on Friday (I’m keeping my fingers crossed for a distinction but am cutting that characteristically fine).

I'm not afraid to admit that the celebrations to mark this achievement saw me fall off the wagon in spectacular style (thanks sis!) but I'm now well and truly back-on and ready to roll.

The rather frustrating question I endure now is…… "So what happens now?". Truth is, I have no idea. I think I’m suffering from post-MBA blues (I Googled it, it’s a thing) as I guess I expected everything to change in an instant, it’s a bit like finishing cancer treatment - you expect to feel ecstatic but instead you feel defeated and drained. 

I keep on reminding myself that eighteen months ago I would gladly have swapped a mustard-gas chemo infusion for the post MBA blues and that’s exactly what I need…. some perspective.

Last week I was offered a date for my reconstructive surgery so, all being well, I’ll go under the knife on 21st November for DIEP flap reconstruction. It’s a pretty brutal procedure for which I will be at the pleasure of the NHS for the best part of two weeks but in a rather twisted way, I’m actually looking forward to it. I’ve stalked and snared one of the most respected breast surgeons in the world and get a tummy-tuck for good measure so can spend the next couple of weeks stuffing my face as I'm "growing a new boob" as a lovely fellow survivor so beautifully puts it. 

This will be the first procedure that I’ll undergo which is not directly attacking the cancer, it’s going to give me a much-needed slice of normality and I can’t wait to see the results. 

I promise to get back to blogging now that my commute has been reclaimed by Candy Crush and free newspapers - many of you know, those are two things that won’t hold my attention for long. 

Thanks for being so understanding & please keep donating to Breast Cancer Now - it really does make a difference

#fightlikeagirl

#ThisGirlCan

#ComingBackSwinging

The one where I go back for more chemo......

I'm not exactly sure how to start this post, it's been a whirlwind month to say the least made up of some exhilarating and debilitating moments.

Those of you who are on Facebook would have been inundated by my celebrity-filled showcasing and I was hoping to use this update to share with you some of the official photos and videos from the M&S Summer Ball but alas they have not yet had the PR seal of approval (which makes them even more intriguing). I promise to share them with you in an update as soon as I have them, but in the meantime, I can very proudly say that I never expected cancer to enable me to tick dinner with David Gandy off my bucket list!

As you will remember from my last update, since our house move I now have a new medical team at the Nuffield in Cambridge so I've spent the last couple of weeks endlessly reviewing my histology and pathology reports with teams of boffins. Even though the tedious experience may have surfaced some zesty memories, the invaluable second opinions have resulted in my inclusion onto a brand new treatment plan. I now understand that my sobriety makes me a good candidate for clinical trials (good advice for anyone in a similar predicament), add to that an uncompromising Oncologist and you have a winning formula (we hope)!

For the next two years I will be having Zometa which is effectively a mild chemotherapy and is administered in the same way. Fortunately this time I won't lose my hair, but, as I experienced shortly after the first round, Zometa has some pretty unpleasant side effects and I retreated to my chemo-cave cared for by my long-suffering family as I willed the pain and sickness to pass. Why would I put myself through it? It's ok to think that, I thought it too as I curled-up in agony refusing painkillers as they would just make the vomiting worse. As you will remember from previous posts, for many women diagnosed with stage III breast cancer, there is a good chance it will return and spread to your lungs, liver, brain and bones. If it spreads to your bones there is a zero survival rate. However, some new and very compelling research has found that the use of bisphosphonates to protect the bones from reoccurring cancer increases survival rates significantly and in the words of Dr Russell "My job is to keep you alive until a cure is found".

As is always the case with cancer, all is not rosy. The treatment is most successful in post-menopausal women. Sparing you the gory details I was most pleased to discover that my reproductive system had survived the chemothery and had started working again, however, in order for the Zometa to work it all needs to be shut down so that means 6 months of Zoladex pellets injected directly into my stomach and if that doesn't work then the whole lot will be surgically removed....classy!

I'm starting to come to terms with the new regime and although it may sound odd, cancer treatment is easier after the first round as most of the stress is the unknown, now I know what I've signed up for, the pragmatic Helen will make a plan to deal with the symptoms each time around because spending time with my family is worth the pain and sickness.

I'll finish with a brilliant video that was shown on the night of the M&S Summer Ball, it features all of the other gorgeous women from our "Magnificent Seven" campaign. I warn you that it's not an easy watch but compel you to do something positive after watching it.

Please donate money to fund the research that will STOP this from happening..... TODAY.



#fightlikeagirl

The pink edition

This time last year, I was wallowing in a pit of Docetaxel and struggling to see any way out. My hair was gone, my nails were starting to fall off and the throbbing pain in my skull and joints was almost unbearable. Although I felt sick all of the time, the steroids made me ravenous between the bouts of nausea so I managed to pile on an additional 2 stone thanks to Quavers and Lucozade (the only things  I could stomach).

Fast forward to today and life could not be more different. I found myself complaining this morning about the price of haircuts and waxing before a much-needed reality check. Although I may consider the fight to be over, there is plenty that reminds me of cancer every day and I'm starting to realise that I am in some sort of weird denial.

This was compounded further by a recent visit to Inverness where Sheonagh and her team made such a fuss of me and the campaign that I had absolutely no idea how to react. While the drugs may have flushed out of my system and the radiation burns have all but disappeared, I sometimes forget that by putting my story into the public domain I can't switch off what has happened. While I admit that it makes me uncomfortable to be reminded of the events of the past year, I need to remember that a story of survival gives people hope and that goes beyond my own selfish story. 

I continue to be astonished by the kindness that people show and the efforts that they go to in order to support the campaign. There have been some incredible breakthroughs in the areas of research and this is, to a large extent. down to the amazing work done by the fantastic team at Breast Cancer Now who manage to give hope to so many more families thanks to the money raised by so many M&S stores and other tireless fundraisers who live in hope of a cure.

I also want to give a special shout-out to the Las Vegas Institute of Sport. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to have my name plastered over the bottoms of so many men or to be able to design my own cancer-kicking cycling kit (which is now in its second production run!) The encouragement that you all continue to shout to me as you post your international exploits all over the interweb is the most awesome thing of all. 

GoVegas

#fightlikeagirl

I am NOT a statistic...

So it turns out that when you're diagnosed with breast cancer everybody talks about the the first five years.

They do this because if you're going to die, you're most likely to do so in the first five years. What they don't tell you is that once you pass this hurdle you are, by no means, out of the woods. This week we were forced to face the cold, hard truth that if something isn't done to find a cure, there is a pretty good chance that this is what is going to kill me.

I make no apologies for the brutality of that statement. It's taken me a few days to figure out how to write it but, as usual, my pragmatism has set in and I carry on living my life. I'm a big believer that if you sit around feeling sorry for yourself and waiting for the worst to happen then you'll shorten your chances considerably. 

The reason for my newfound realism? My newfound Oncologist! As many of you know, I have been stalking one of the most well-respected reconstructive breast surgeons in the country and couldn't believe my luck when he agreed to do my TRAM FLAP surgery at the end of the year (it took a little perseverance but in the words of my long-suffering husband "nobody says no to Helen!") Professor Malata requested that we register with his preferred Oncologist and riding on the high of becoming part of his surgical plan we were probably a little unprepared for the conversation.

Don't get me wrong, Dr Russell was probably one of the best Doctors I've met so far. He has an ingenious way of delivering a serious message in an unthreatening way. He quickly realised that I love a p-value as much as the next nerd and we spent a good 30 minutes having a good-old geek-off reviewing cancer statistics, survival rates etc. What I quickly came to realise was that his message wasn't coated in sugar. He very bluntly but honestly told me that his job is to keep me alive until they find a cure.

Luckily for me, the lifestyle changes that I've made have upped my chances considerably and he's working hard to get me accepted onto a clinical trial which has shown some very encouraging prognosis improvements for post-menopausal survivors - yes, you read it right, I am now post-menopausal......bastard cancer.

So, in summary. You're going to see a massive increase in my fundraising efforts because I have more motivation than most, I want to watch my beautiful daughter grow up and would really appreciate your help x

#fightlikeagirl

The one where I give up the booze.....

I've been sober for nearly 3 months and as someone who has spent several years developing a very strong relationship with Rioja I can safely say that life without it is surprisingly fulfilling. As you can see, the barnet is making a brave comeback and I am gradually shifting the steroid pounds with the help of Strava and an unforgiving alarm clock.

What most cancer survivors will tell you, particularly ones that have 'survived' breast cancer is that you are never really in the clear. You live your life with the constant reminder that your cancer could return at any point and you are only considered clear of the disease when it hasn't made a reappearance within five years. When you've had a mastectomy it's difficult to check for reoccurring lumps so the likelihood is that any reoccurrence would take place in the lungs, liver, brain or bones - needless to say, pretty damn difficult to find. 

I'm quite a pragmatic person so decided to shift my attention from worry to action and started to research the things that I could do in order to maximise my chances of survival. My tumour was classed as ER+/PR+/HER2- (oestrogen receptive, progesterone receptive and human epidermal growth factor receptor 2 negative) which, luckily for me, has the highest survival rate. The ER+ can be treated with Tamoxifen but I have recently discovered that lifestyle choices can undo or reverse the benefits of the drugs. It turns out that by consuming alcohol when these tumour cells are touring your body is bad news as it stops your liver from breaking down the excess oestrogen and that helps to feed the tumour cells to the point where they divide, become uncontrollable and ultimatley end my life. Frankly that's a risk I'm not willing to take hence my uncharactericsic sobriety. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm not here to preach, this is my personal lifestyle choice but let's face it, if you were in my position and had to choose between having a drink or watching your children grow up, which would you choose?

It's not long until our Tough Mudder challenge and there is still time to sponsor the "M&S Magnificent Seven" as we take on the toughest assault course in the UK.... all in aid of Breast Cancer Now.

Thank you xx

#fightlikeagirl

The one where I find another lump....

 Firstly, I make no apology for the shameless attempt to increase my blog views with the most dramatic title possible, secondly, everything is fine.

It’s been a few weeks since my last bout of narcissism, as you can imagine they have been rather traumatic and although I did think about keeping you all in the loop on the unfolding drama Nathan and I thought it best to write about the experience as a whole once we’d had the nod either way.

All of my Doctors had reassured me that my type of tumour is………correction…….was a random mutation of cells which is unlikely to have been caused by genetic or environmental factors. What that means is that any tumours that appear in the other breast are effectively a new case of breast cancer rather than being related to the original episode. I’m told to be vigilant about reoccurrence in the original site (apparently even though I’ve had the breast removed and a temporary implant inserted, there is still a chance of residual cancer cells developing into new tumours) I also need to be vigilant about secondary metastasis where the cancer cells manage to evade the onslaught of chemotherapy and radiotherapy and find a new home in my liver, lungs, brain or bones (bones isn’t good, bones is game-over).

While every ache and pain does evoke pangs of dread, I have remained positive yet vigilant in my self-examinations and around 3 weeks ago I found a lump.

If I’m really honest, I ignored it for the longest 3 days before plucking up the courage to tell Nathan when it became obvious it wasn’t going away. That was probably one of the hardest conversations of my life (aside from telling my parents and sister about the original diagnosis), we have so many positive things going on in our lives - we’re about to exchange on the house of our dreams, Erica and Nathan are about to start new academic adventures in Ely and my career prospects seem ever more promising - we have absolutely everything to lose.

As much as I have slagged off BUPA in this blog, they were fantastic, I had an appointment with Mr Rashed within three days and he referred me to Mr Hajajj two days after that. Mr Hajajj is my Radiologist and an all-round genius, he spotted my cancer when everyone else said it “was nothing” so I knew that if there was anything there he’d likely be the person to find it. As he progressed from the examination to the ultrasound I listened intently for the clicks - I have learned that clicks mean that he’s taking images and that is not good - that was probably the tensest silence of my life, there is no suitable small talk in that situation and I think we all held our breath.

“My darling, there is nothing there”……. I could have kissed him and I think he was just as relieved as I was that I didn’t! 

I’m resisting inserting a “learning” cliche but there is no more sobering experience than coming face to face with your mortality. I wasn’t scared about going through the treatment again and that made me realise that the fear the first time around was fear of the unknown. 

This time I wasn’t scared of the sickness, the pain, the surgery, the hairloss, the strain on my relationships or the dent in our finances as I knew my enemy well and was damned as hell prepared to keep on giving it the fight it’s never had until it decides to leave me alone. 

I’m terrified that cancer will take away the very things it had taught me to cherish. I thank God for them every day and will never stop doing so.

#fightlikeagirl

Normality is more of a distraction than I expected...

Hello lovely people

I could try to apologise for my tardiness but I've been so remiss in my updates that I wouldn't have any idea how to start! I have been getting back to glorious normality and reminding myself every time that I have a stressful day at work that in comparison, to chemo it's a walk in the park - I'd take a stressful day over a chemo day every time! It's probably similar to my running metaphor, cancer treatment makes you realise just how much suffering you are built to cope with and it provides you with a whole new baseline to compare your rather inconsequential daily gripes with!

The writing that I was enjoying in keeping this blog up to date has now sadly been taken up by my return to the MBA and I can confirm that the output is far less interesting. Although I have missed writing about such riveting subjects like "the reality of efficient market hypotheses" - I would much rather be writing about the my experiences of trying to make sense of this disease. It's amazing how something like cancer can hit the pause button in your life and force you to take stock of just how much you could lose - those things that you don't invest time in as you go about your day to day life.

I have found it incredible just how quickly things do start to go back to normal but those of you who know me well will likely have noticed some post-cancer personality shifts:

1. On a sporadic and entirely random basis, I remind myself that I came very close to saying goodbye to the most important people in my life. That emulates itself in random displays of affection but thankfully Erica is young enough to still allow me to squeeze her and smother her with kisses as I silently thank my lucky stars that I still have the chance to do it.
2. I smile to myself every time someone barges me out of the way to get that seat - an experience like this really does give you new perspective on what you should not waste your time getting flustered about. 
3. No matter what happens in my week - I now know that things could always be a whole lot worse.
4. My patience was pretty awful before this happened, it's even worse now! Time is precious and I am determined not to miss out on opportunities.

I would never wish cancer on anyone but it really is incredible just how much something like that can make your life utterly shit for one year but has the surprisingly ability to make you a better person as a result.

#fightlikeagirl