January 8th 2024.
When I was first told I had breast cancer, I thought nothing would ever be funny again. But it turns out I was wrong. Even in the most humiliating moments, I find myself laughing.
I was doing my regular self-check when I noticed a lump in December 2018. I initially dismissed it, but when I noticed a dark vein snaking up to my collar bone, I knew I had to get it checked out. So, I went to my GP and was scheduled in for an appointment at The Clatterbridge Cancer Centre in Wirral.
When I arrived at the clinic, all the other women were sent home, and I knew what this meant. I was shocked and overwhelmed, so Pete and I flew to Fuerteventura to pass the time until my surgery.
Two weeks later, I got my results. The initial biopsy detected cancer, and I was scheduled in for a lumpectomy. I was also told that the cancer had spread to one of my lymph nodes, which meant it was stage 3. I was then told I had to lose my breast.
That was my lowest point, so I took the first available appointment at the hospital the next day and went for an MRI scan. A week later, I was told I had four more lumps in the same breast. I took myself to the off-license, bought two bottles of wine and downed the first one at home in 15 minutes.
My boss then convinced me that my breast had to come off and it had to be soon. I had to tell my children, who were obviously horrified. But, we all managed to find the funny side, so I could focus on recovery.
I had a left-side mastectomy and lymph node removal in May 2019. I also had to start a 10-year hormone therapy course. This caused me to go into menopause, meaning I spent a lot of time sweating and semi-naked.
I still need regular physiotherapy on my scar tissue and years of hormone therapy, but throughout this journey, I have managed to find humour in the most unexpected places. I now co-host a podcast, ‘Get it Off Your Chest – The Funny Side of Breast Cancer’, with my friend and fellow breast cancer warrior Andrea Moulding.
It's been a life-changing experience, but I have been reminded that humour can be found even in the darkest of times.
When you're told you have breast cancer, it can feel like you'll never laugh again. But for me, the opposite has been true; laughter has been my saving grace.
It all started back in August of 2019 when I opened my door to a delivery driver. I was only wearing my post-mastectomy bra, and the look on his face was priceless. I was embarrassed, of course, but the situation was so absurd that I couldn't help but laugh.
My journey with breast cancer began in December of 2018, when I found a lump while doing a self-check. I initially dismissed it, but when a dark vein popped up on the same breast a few months later, I went to my GP. After a physical examination, mammogram, and biopsy, I was told that they were suspicious it was cancer.
Ten days later, I got the confirmation - I had cancer. My husband Pete and I flew to Fuerteventura to pass the time until my surgery. I turned my phone off, not wanting to face reality, and instead I planned my funeral in my head. But when I got back, I had to go to the hospital urgently. An MRI scan revealed that I had four lumps in the same breast, and that the cancer had spread to one of my lymph nodes. It was stage 3.
I was told that I would need to have a mastectomy. This was my lowest point, so I bought two bottles of wine and downed the first one at home. But after talking to my boss, who had also had breast cancer, I realized that I had to let my breast go - the sooner the better.
My family was supportive, but even then I couldn't find any humor in the situation. It wasn't until I had a good cry, watching the movie Beaches, that I could start to find the funny side of things. I started making jokes to my kids about being a drama queen, and before I knew it, I was laughing again.
During treatment, I made sure no one spoke negatively around me. I had a left-side mastectomy and lymph node removal in May 2019, and also started a 10-year hormone therapy course. Menopause forced me into situations of deep humiliation, but it also gave me lots of opportunities to find humor.
Now, I'm still regularly going for physio and hormone therapy. But I'm also doing something positive with my journey - I co-host a podcast, ‘Get It Off Your Chest – The Funny Side of Breast Cancer’, with my friend and fellow breast cancer warrior Andrea Moulding. We talk about how laughter is the best medicine, and I'm living proof of that.
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