When your life changes in a minute of time!
In June this year, I received an invitation from Breast Screen WA to book a breast scan. I didn’t book it immediately, being always too busy with work. I wish I had! I had the scan, the second week of August, three weeks later I got a call, to book an appointment at one of the major hospital clinics asap, as they had found something suspicious in my right breast. The first hospital clinic I could into was Sir Charles Gardner three weeks later. I was booked in for another mammogram and an ultrasound, with the possibility of a biopsy.
All of the above happened, and the beautiful, compassionate staff told me, as they were biopsying, exactly what they saw. After an 8-hour day in the breast clinic, I was called into the initial Doctors office, where she told me that I had breast cancer! I knew it before she said it, but I didn’t want to hear it! The cancer was already in lymph nodes in my chest wall, she suspected Stage 3 breast cancer. She immediately referred me to a breast surgeon, for what I presumed was surgery. I was booked in for a PET Scan, which I did, and then met with the surgeon the following week. I was feeling well, although had been suffering with a bit of nausea, and fatigue for about two months. I also had pain in my right abdomen, not enough to make me want to see a doctor though.
To Ivan and I’s shock, the surgeon blurted straight out that he would not be operating on me, as I had one of the highest categories and most aggressive types of breast cancer you can get. Being Metastatic Breast Cancer Stage 4, Category 3, Triple Positive. I was riddled with cancer, my entire liver, my bones, all of them, except my leg bones, chest wall, lymph nodes from top to bottom, but not in my brain, lungs or other major organs. The first question I asked was, is it in my brain. I didn’t know how I would cope with that! He pronounced the prognosis as very poor, wished me the best and told me in the kindest possible way that he wouldn’t see me again. I walked out of that appointment like a zombie. I felt completely shell shocked, planning my funeral, how to tell me children and darling grandsons, my sister and brother, and my 92-year-old mother!
So, within the spin of a coin, my life changed. I was referred to an oncologist, without knowing his credentials, and off we went. Within days I had stared chemotherapy and two targeted treatments. Immediately I started radiation as well, to stop the cancer in the top of my arms from breaking my arms! Thats when I knew what feeling ill was. My God, the pain, the anaphylaxis due to being allergic to two of the drugs, the absolute exhaustion, not being able to stand, knowing that every cell in your body was literally being nuked, and they were all trying to die faster than the other. The anemia, the low white blood cell count, the loss of vision, blood pressure dropping so low that you can’t speak or see. It was horrible. They say that you have to go through the pain to have the gain. Never truer words were said.
During this time, whilst in hospital with a suspected stroke (I knew that it wasn’t, it was the bloody blood pressure dropping so low that you become non compass Mendes), I had a brain MRI. They found three small lesions in my cerebellum, and made it sound like I was going to be a “gonna” in a matter of weeks. I was devastated, I have always worried about losing control of the organ I rely on most to survive. Another battle to tackle. I also learnt that PET Scans cannot read the brain or the bladder! So those lesions were probably there from the outset. Tiny, sub-centimetre little buggers that they are. So straight on to steroids to deter any form of seizure and to reduce swelling.
By now I had, had eight rounds of chemo and targeted treatment, having missed two treatments due to being in hospital with infections. I was booked for a follow up PET Scan, and CT with contrast, and MRI all on the same day.
Low and behold, the PET scan results came back showing that my liver was all but clear, that the breast was all but clear, and that most lymph nodes were clear. There’s still cancer in some bones, but I’m ok with that. This will take time some time. I started radiation this week for the brain lesions. With my bald head glowing, and even more chubby face now from the steroids! I feel confident that they will be cooked and have everything crossed that the rest of my brain won’t be too badly affected.
Ultimately, though, it’s a great outcome after such a short period of time. Treatment goes on, but no chemo at this stage. An anti-cancer, anti-hormone tablet now instead, that’s sure to have a few side effects, but is a game changer.
I have learnt a lot through this process. About how vulnerable one is, but also how strong and resilient you have to be to fight this disease. I don’t know how long I have on this planet. I know that I have an incurable cancer, and that my five-year survival rate is considered to be only 20%, but I also know that I am not ready to die just yet. For one thing, we need a proper, relaxing little holiday. It’s been over five years since we took a break stupidly. And I want to be here to see my grandsons make their 21st birthdays. Thats the goal for now at least! It’s only seven years, surely, I can manage this!
I’ll tell you something for free though. I had no idea how much love, support, compassion, kindness and generosity surrounded me, both through my work and personally. I have never felt more loved in my life. It is the most beautiful of things. I cannot thank everyone who has shown care, kindness, huge generosity and concern, just how much it means to me. I cannot begin to express just how profound an experience this has been for both Ivan and me. I am ever grateful for this love and support; it buoys me on days that can be sad and sometimes just awful. When the men you have known and worked with for 20 years are unafraid to send messages of love and support and really enquire as to how you are coping, it’s glorious. When women send you beautiful, little gifts and flowers and share their compassion and love, and want to know how you are, it is a beautiful thing. When friends in our great industry, come across potential treatments or alternative treatments, they share this with me, and I love it. I am ever grateful for these wonderful expressions of support, comfort and love.
In amongst this, I received the best little gift ever! Jeff Austen, Simon Wood and Kaine Rogers, (the BEST turf lecturers in the world), along with the apprentices from South Metro TAFE, arranged for a pot of the finest turf to be delivered to me. This gift means more than most, given my love for this great industry, and its wonderful people, to whom I am committed and dedicated to. I treasure this gift! It’s the best industry ever, our Turf Industry! (With special love for the Sports Turf Association – WA and the Turf Growers Association Western Australia, for whom I have worked for over 20 years now!)
I could not have chosen a better industry to work in, with and for. I really love this beautiful little pot of living turfgrass. I will treasure it and trim it and make sure it stays alive for as long as I do.
It means more than I can express. This cancer journey isn’t an easy one, it’s moments like this that make me smile big and remind me to be grateful. Special thanks to Shonagh Bradstock, for delivering this on behalf of the SM TAFE Turf team. And also, a dear little desert rose she grew from a seed. So beautiful! I am blessed!
Thank you from the bottom of my heart everyone. Please keep on sending your positive thoughts our way, we so appreciate them. I know I am not young, but a bit more time to really live would be wonderful. Besides there’s so much to be done for this industry yet!
With huge respect, and love, Eva