I sneezed and collapsed to the floor, screaming that I thought I'd broken my back. A locum doctor diagnosed a pulled muscle over the phone and gave me a diazepam prescription.
2 months later, I scratched an itchy boob and felt a lump. I went to the GP who referred me to the breast clinic under the 2 week wait. I had a mammogram and ultraaound followed by a biopsy and was then called back into the consultant's office to be told it was cancer. It seemed to be one small tumour, so I was expecting a lumpextomy, a few years of tablets and then to forget all about it. My back wasn't hurting at the time and I'd never have dreamt it.could be connected so I didn't mention it.
A couple of weeks later ky MIL fell ill anslf then died unexpectedly. Around the same time my back pain came back with a vengeance. My husband was away in his home town so I was carrying the whole load at home and also travelling up and down the country so I assumed I was just overdoing it.
On the morning of my surgery I mentioned the back ache to my nurse, who said we'd better get it scanned, that was the point at which I realised things might be bad.
Sure enough a bone scan a couple of weeks later revealed that one of my vertebrae had been eaten away by a tumour and I had by this point been walking around with a broken back for 6 months.
My breast surgeon told me over the phone and asked me to go straight into hospital so they could assess whether theyncould operate. I don't even know how to describe how I felt getting that news. It was absolutely terrifyijg, I went straight into a panic attack and couldn't hear what she was saying. My husband took the phone and she was great - very calmly and slowly talked him through sorting out the children, what to pack and where to go.
I had surgery on my back and have since had both hips replaced too. For the first few months I was a mess. I wouldn't book anything as I was convinced I'd he dead. I was in an absolute panic, there was also a lot of guilt that I may have done something to cause it or should've picked up on the lump sooner;; anger at the unfairness; and a feeling of being utterly alone.
But the turning point was a combination of just taking time to go tgrough the various stages of processing it; and throwing myself into alln the face to face groups, retreats, online support, everything I could find. Ive drawn a lot of strength from meeting other women going through the same and I'm good at focusing on the positive stories of those who've lived well with it for a long time. I still have bad days - some days I'm literally frozen in fear and don't get out of bed - but I have more good days.
Mine is the most common type of breast cancer - ER+ So in a sense I feel lucky, as it has the most treatment options. There arenat least 6 open to ke currently plus trials and bew treatments being developed all the time. Some of the treatments will work for several years for aome women - but not at all for others, and there doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason. My furst treatment has just stopped working after just over 2 years (new tumours in my spine) so I've just had radiotherapy ro slow things down and am awaiting a new treatmenr plan. If I'm very lucky I could get 10+ years on my next treatment, if I'm not I could go through all avaliable treatments in the next 2 years. It really is that unpredictable. So prognosis conversations don't tend to happen until you teach the last available treatment.
My husband is fab - thankfully we already had a good, strong relationship. My parents, wider familyn ad friends are really supportive too.
We have a DS11 and DD9. By far the worst part of this whole shitshow is the likelihood that I will leave them before they're grown up I've also got tremendous guilt at how their lives have changed already. The bone mets and surgeries have left me disabled, with poor mobility, near-constant pain, I'm frequently absolutely floored with fatigue and I've had weeks at a time either in hospital or on strict bed rest.