People's stories
Sarah Burnett's Story
I was diagnosed with breast cancer in November 2005, at the age of 43. My Mum had breast cancer quite young, so I always knew it was on the cards, but the shock was to discover that I had eleven tumours. Fortunately I had been screened, and they were all quite small, but as doctor I knew I would have to have a mastectomy and chemotherapy. It may sound daft, but I think I was more worried about losing my gorgeous boyfriend Troy, who is ten years younger than me, than I was of dying. Like Caroline, I was lucky enough see a surgeon who does the skin sparing mastectomy, and I was very reassured when he showed me the results of his surgery. I even decided to take the opportunity to go up a cup size! I went to see the oncologist with Troy, had an excellent lunch at Galvin, and headed straight to Harvey Nichols to buy hats and scarves. I knew I would not be able to cope with a wig.
I started the chemo two weeks after the surgery. I had already had my hair cut very short, but on Christmas Day it started to fall out. We had loads of friends coming for lunch on New Year’s Day, and while getting ready I realised that my hair was already so thin that it looked awful. So I took the plunge and shaved it all off – using my bikini line clippers! I didn’t warn anyone, but they didn’t look too surprised to see me bald. The children were very supportive, and my daughter who was then seven, said ‘You see Mummy, if you’re beautiful and get bald, then you’re still beautiful. However, I really struggled with the scarves at work so I decided not to bother. I think the greatest compliment came from England and Chelsea defender Ashley Cole, who, having seen me with a scarf on the week before, said that he thought I looked much cooler without it. Many of my patients thought that I had done it for charity, or even as what one called ‘a lifestyle choice.’
I found that I had to be very careful in the sun, and also to keep my scalp well moisturised at all times. Usually I am not the sort of person who feels the need to wear make up every day, but with no hair you have to, to give the face some definition. Big earrings also help to frame the face. I was lucky not to lose my eyebrows and eyelashes until quite late on. I only used non-waterproof mascara, as that it easier to remove without pulling the hairs. When I did lose them, I faked it with eyebrow pencil and eyeliner, and falsies for big occasions.
Being bald did have its funny moments – like the make-up artist on Richard and Judy who couldn’t figure out where to stop the foundation, or meeting a bloke at a ball who had a fetish for bald women. If you wear your bald head with pride it can attract a lot of attention. I remember walking from the bar to the table at The Boxwood Cafe, in an amazing black Alexander McQueen dress, high heels, and these massive tribal earrings. That turned a few heads. When my hair did grow back it was curly, and much darker. When it was about an inch long I went to the hairdresser to have it bleached – it was such a treat to be back at the salon.
This June Troy and I are getting married, he was absolutely fantastic while I was ill, always telling me how much he fancied me. So for all of you who are suffering the effects of breast cancer treatment, or if women you know are, just remember the equation:
BEAUTIFUL + BALD = BEAUTIFUL
Claire Andrew's Story
March 9th 2004 I thought my world had just come crashing around me. The
voices around me, the faces of people just seemed to melt away into the
distance as they tried to deliver the devastating blow that I, Claire
Andrew; wife, daughter, mother, sister, teacher, had a disease that
frightened people beyond belief. 30 years old and delivered the death
sentence. But this is not a sad story. It is a story of a journey. it is
the story of some kick - ass moves and mental attitude to beat this disease
that had the audacity to dare to take me on!
I had chemotherapy within days of the diagnosis of a grade three tumour of
five centimetre proportion in my left breast. They kept the lump there as a
good indicator of how well the chemo was doing. And boy, did it do its
stuff. I lost my hair - but not my dignity or my sense of humour. I urged
the chemo to do its stuff and swore at the cancer, telling it it was not
welcome and it would not win. I used guided visualisation, imagining me
sinking my nails into the tumour, ripping it out and stamping the life out
of it on the floor. The cancer reduced to just under 2cm. I kept my breast
and removed the rest.
Next came radiotherapy and I urged it on in much the same way. My outlook
on life changed. I became a stronger person and took up skiing! I know I'm
racing through this, but I'm trying not to dwell on the bad and transport
you as quickly as possible to the good! Believe it or not, those who have
been on this journey, do eventually get to this point, where the harshness
of what you've been through becomes soft around the edges and you dare to
believe in the future, and look forward to it, with a healthy respect for
how far you've come (you never forget where you've been), but you no longer
feel the pain anywhere near as acutely.
So the good bit, if I may fast forward to this, is that I dared to believe
in the future and to demand more than just to be grateful to be alive. I
took the plunge and tried (with a little help from my hubby!)for another
baby. I am now 4 months pregnant (looking more like about 6) and happy to
be giving life as well as hanging on to mine. My right boob seems to be
arriving before I do. Left one is sulking and doesn't see why it should
produce milk after all its been through - which is fine. So breast feeding
on one boob will be quite nice - I always used to forget which one I was on,
anyway!
So my message is - to anyone who cares to take it - dare to believe and you
never know where that faith may take you.
Lots of love and hope,
Claire Andrew
Ruth Minter's story
Out of the blue in 2001 my younger sister phoned me and told me she had
breast cancer. We have no history of it in our family, and she was in her
thirties with a 6 month old baby. It was a total shock. I signed up to
become a £1000 challenger for Breakthrough but did not get around to doing
any fundraising. My sister recovered well after surgery and chemotherapy.
Phew, that's over and done with for our family we thought.
In December 2003 (aged 40) the weekend before Christmas I felt a lump in my
own ample bosom. I saw my GP on Jan 7th having said nothing to anyone over
Christmas. I just put it to the back of my mind until the holidays were
over, although I had no intention of ignoring it. I knew it would be
malignant. I could feel it. On February 11th 2004 a wonderful surgeon
removed the lump from my breast and was able to leave what has become an
almost invisible scar for which I am eternally grateful. He saved my life
there is no doubt about that. My lymphs were affected and so I embarked on
a course of chemo therapy in march finishing in September, to be followed by
18 days of radiotherapy at Addenbrookes, Cambridge.
I had most of the side effects going, the obvious, hair loss, weight gain
(which I am still battling with 4 years on), extreme tiredness, nausea, the
most horrendous mouth ulcers which were unbearable. I hated losing my
eyelashes, and my eyebrows virtually disappeared too. I had a wig but
rarely wore it, preferring a bandana most of the time. I had a good wig
made for me but just felt uncomfortable wearing it. Not so much the
physical discomfort, the itching etc, but that it would be so obvious to
people in the street that it was a wig. I felt more comfortable in a scarf,
although I dreaded the sympathetic looks it caused.
I dreaded telling my mum about my diagnosis, she had been brilliant with my
sister, but it had really taken it out of her emtionally, and I really did
not want to put her though that mill again. My own children 2 boys were 11
and 13 at the time, and were too old to keep in ignorance, but I did not
want to frighten them. My prognosis was good, and I always had a positive
mental attitude. My husband was quite literally someone to lean on, and
took up the battle with me.
By October when the radiotherapy started, I was relieved, surely this would
be a walk in the park compared to the chemo. My hair was growing back,
things would be easy now. Wrong. I suffered quite bad burning from the
radiation, and it was extremely painful and uncomfortable. I am not small
in the breast department, and the burn was continually weeping.
We celebrated the end of the treatment with a holiday to Italy in November.
But things were not easy. I felt lost without my hospital appointments and
scared that it would come back. In january 2005 I had my ovaries removed,
all part of the treatment, as my tumour had been strongly reactive to
oestrogen. So now I was thrown into premature menopause ! I had to cope
with hot flushes, night sweats weight gain - more weight gain, without the
help of any HRT of course. And then the tablets. I soon discovered an
allergy to tamoxifen. I am not the type to make a fuss, but the itchy,
lumpy rash that came up on my legs, ankles and wrists really was unbearable
and my husband said I was scratching in my sleep. So a change of medication
left me with arimidex which has other side effects but I can leave with
those.
So that's my story - we run a busy family business and I managed to keep
working throughout most of my treatment. I would do a whole morning in the
office and retreat to the sofa at lunch time to watch tv or read. On the
5th day after chemo I would have to stay in bed. Too 'wobbly' to do
anything.
In january 2005 just after my oopherectomy I received a flyer from
breakthrough - a 60Km wolk around london over 2 days, camping overnight in
Finsbury park, raising a minumum amount of £1500.00. I needed something to
get me back to fitness, and give me a new focus. So that's what I did. I
met wonderful people, some of whom will be friends for life. I am in year 4
now and looking forward to next year as a big milestone.
I hope you might find some of this useful or of interest. I think you are
doing a wonderful job, and look forward to watching your campaign go from
strength to strength. Great to be in touch with you.
Ruth Minter.