I'm 46 now, a year older than my first symptom. Both my children had just flown the nest, and the younger one (who is non-verbal and severely autistic) was safely ensconced in supported accommodation after being looked after at home for 19 years. It was important to me that she start to develop an independent life in the community, because obviously one day I wouldn't be here for her, and I didn't want some awful emergency social work placement in the event of my death.
Obviously, I expected that to be a long way in the future. Besides, my (genuinely) Darling Husband and I were looking forward to all sorts of plans together after many years of sometimes tough caring.
On my 45th birthday, I was lifting our new puppy into the back seat of the car when I experienced the most excruciating sharp and intense pain in my back. I hobbled my way through the next few weeks without seeing the GP, assuming that I'd be told to lose weight and exercise etc etc.
It wasn't until about three months later that I noticed one of my nipples had inverted and couldn't be coaxed back out. THEN I went straight to the GP, and was referred within a fortnight to the breast clinic. I really wasn't worried- I'm a glass half-full kinda person, and I assumed that they were just being cautious. I was so blasé about it that I attended the appointment alone. At the end of a long afternoon, a very sympathetic doctor told me it was definitely cancer, but I'd probably have surgery and he would help me.
I think it was the following week that the results of tests with more information came through. Again, I went alone because I wanted to know everything before I told my family. They told me that it was Stage 4, which means it had already spread past the lymph nodes and into other areas of my body, including my spine. What I had assumed was a trapped nerve on my birthday was actually my vertebrae crumbling, and the pain was compression of my spinal chord.
There would be no surgery, because there was no point. They couldn't cure me, just treat my symptom and try to slow the progression with radiotherapy and drugs. My first reaction was to ask if there was still any point getting new double glazing the following week- I make tasteless jokes in the face of bad news, what can I tell you
. Fortunately, they said yes, and they would look after me for as long as possible.
I'm still here, nearly 18 months later. Having problems with my lower jaw and losing teeth, but waiting to find out for sure if it's a particularly nasty side effect of the drugs, or the cancer starting to spread. It feels like all I do is attend hospital appointments, and the rest of the time I am hazy and tired from the strong painkillers.
Still I hope though- to feel well enough to take a holiday, perhaps, to stick around for as long as I can, so I can see my beautiful girls blossom in their adulthood, and spend time with my broken-hearted but incredibly supportive husband. I try not to be bitter, and just put my energy into staying alive as long as I can, and appreciating all the wonderful things in my life. The women on this thread is one of those thInes.