I was diagnosed in November 2011 with Stage IIIb Breast Cancer (er + pr - HER2 negative, with two of six lymph nodes involved). I immediately had a mastectomy followed by 6 rounds of FEC and then 30 rounds of radiotherapy. Followed up by a year or more of Tamoxifen and monthly Zolodex injections due to the hormone involvement of my cancer.
And then, just because I could (why not?!) I had a prophylactic mastectomy with a latissimus dorsi trans-flap reconstruction on both sides.
Yay! 'All done' thought me!
Not so much.
In February 2014 after putting up with shooting pain down both legs for a few months, I was diagnosed with metastatic Breast Cancer, now Stage IV and in my bones (including my skull) and liver. I began 7 months of Taxol chemo, and was so sick by this point that I had weekly or bi-weekly blood transfusions as my bone marrow was struggling to produce my own.
After a pain crisis in August 2014 I switched chemo's to Navelbine combined with an oral chemo Xeloda. To date, this has been so so much easier on my body, and my blood work and scans are looking much better.
So yeah. It's been a fabulous year...
A terminal cancer diagnosis is daunting. To say the least.
To sit in a doctor's office and be told that I have an incurable cancer that doesn't care I've made plans for the next 50 or so years because now I have only years. Years or months.
To hold my husbands hand in that office, hearing those words, and remember our wedding vows, 'come what may', 'till death do us part', and being told that the parting is sooner than we ever ever imagined.
To come home to my 6, 4 and 2 year old boys, and know with every fibre of my mummy self that I simply cannot leave them now, cannot abandon them for this bossy, rubbish disease.
To cry out to Jesus in that gut-wrenching, not at all pretty, howling mess and scream that everything within me hates this story that's playing out. Hence Cath on Cancer.
Maybe my boys will read this one day. Maybe they won't want to. But it'll be here for them.
Maybe other girls like me with little ones will read these musings; ones with husbands, with houses to run and people to love on, and days to live, and plans to make, and cancer to wrestle with just like me.
This is me on paper. Cath on Cancer. Just thoughts on how it is.
xx
Cath- you are my beautiful brave sister in so many ways! Love you so much!
ReplyDeleteThankyou for your raw, open honesty. Thankyou for sharing from the depths of who you are and giving us all a greater glimpse into everything you're going through. It's a gift to us all in so many ways and i know a gift to many people who will never even meet you (from cyber-land).
You have inspired me by your posts, brought me to my knees in tears and shared of your soul with your beautiful writings. Most of all i'm left with the greater sense that cancer isn't really having the 'last-word' - I can see God's hope written throughout and the way he is comforting and sustaining in only the way He can:).
Love you with all my heart!
Dear Cath
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing your story. Your words and pictures have been a source of real encouragement for me...that's a long story...(arent they all?) Bless you and your family. Much love Gina x
Cath, what a beautiful, inspiring woman. All those years ago at Coro youth you helped me become the woman I am today. I am so thankful for those days of fun, smiles, so much laughter. They are precious memories to me.
ReplyDeleteI hope I can be a strong, loving mother & wife as you were. Your words are encouraging & uplifting.
Much love to Adam & your 3 little ones. Prayers & love. I look forward to seeing you again, beautiful friend. x
You were the best Auntie anyone could ever have in the whole world Auntie Cath
ReplyDeleteI love you so much❤