In February 2020 I was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer which had metastasized to my bones. There is no cure. The disease had spread extensively throughout my skeleton and into the surrounding soft tissue of my lower lumbar spine. I was admitted to hospital on the day I received the diagnosis and treatment began immediately. The initial treatment included radiation to 5 of the worst affected bones and a soft tissue tumour which was compressing a nerve cluster in my lumbar spine. Ongoing treatment included oral chemo, hormone blockers and pain relief with a bone treatment injection all on a 4 week cycle. Follow up scans in August showed further progression. A change of oncologist and the addition of a new drug had me declared stable by November 2020, which was a minor miracle. My treatment continues on a 4 week cycle.
In the meantime, in July 2020 my husband, my rock and the love of my life was diagnosed with myeloma, an incurable blood cancer. The cancer had spread to his bones and, after urgent surgery to remove a soft tissue tumour compressing a nerve cluster in his thoracic spine, he began treatment on a 4 week cycle. In December 2020 he underwent a stem cell transplant which took months to recover from. He was declared stable in March this year and his treatment continues on a 4 week cycle too.
Sure it's stressful dealing with both of our illnesses on a daily basis. And yes it has changed the way we are able to live and function. But for all of the challenges and fears, I was coping really well until August this year when a routine scan showed new "glowy bits" in my neck. Glowy bits are not good. Glowy bits need to be investigated. So I was sent for an ultrasound of my thyroid which was inconclusive. I was then booked in for a biopsy but had to wait more than 2 weeks for a hospital to fit me in. Two weeks to worry, to imagine the worst and work myself up into a bit of a state. That's something I'm good at, winding myself up like an elastic band until I either snap or spin out of control.
Thyroid cancer. The results came back and I was referred to a surgeon but again I had to wait for an appointment. Cue more winding. Before I saw the surgeon I had one of my regular treatments at the hospital and as soon as one of the nurses asked me how I was I broke down. Snap! I mean I really broke down. My BP dropped to 107 and they called the doctor in. She urged me to get help with a mental health care plan and urgent therapy.
So now I'm in therapy. I've been working really hard for the past 5 weeks or so and I'm getting a lot better. I'm doing a Mindfulness course on Mondays, I have CBT therapy on Tuesdays and I'm seeing a psychologist specialising in oncology trauma too. This blog post is actually my homework for tomorrow's CBT session - journalling.
Five weeks ago I was at rock bottom and looking back I can see exactly why my health care team pushed me to ask for help and accept what was offered to me. I couldn't function in any area of my life, I was barely sleeping, the house was a mess and I was avoiding friends and family.
Asking for help was difficult but not as difficult as trying to cope without that help. Now I have 3 more members in my Dream Team and I will try to always ask for help.
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