Cervical Cancer Stage 3B - So, I had Crvical Cancer. What came next...

It's time to get the next chapter started. Hopefully you have already read my first blog on how I found out I had cancer but just in case, here's a quick recap. On March 6th 2016, as a 28 year old single mother and after months of pain, bleeding, loss of appetite and numerous unsuccessful doctor visits, I was told I had cancer. A large mass on my cervix that should have been found sooner. My last blog ended at the start of the longest two weeks of my life. This blog will tell you about the emotions I went through as well as giving details on what came next.

Chances of survival and the feelings that came with not knowing...

So, I had just found out I had Cervical Cancer and had two weeks to wait for an MRI and a biopsy which would tell me what stage I was, what treatments I could have or if I was terminal. I hope to never have another two weeks like that again and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. I still had the pain and bleeding but now I was feeling every type of feeling you can imagine and had so many thoughts flying through my head. Yet I had two weeks to wait. I was in limbo...

The sadness and crying I experienced during this time, I suppose, was to be expected. I've never been one for crying and I didn't want to be then either. I've always kept my worries to myself and figured things out on my own before speaking with anyone, about whatever it was. But now I couldn't figure anything out, it was impossible for me to find a solution.

I had to be strong for those around me, they were scared they were going to loose me and I didn't want to add to their worry. So I hid it, I didn't show anyone how sad I was, I locked my tears away and only brought them out when I was alone in bed at night. I only wanted one person but he had left years ago and there was no one else I could be completely open with. Well, actually there was, my friends and family that knew but I didn't want them to know the hurt I was going through, I knew they had there own hurt to deal with and they were already being so understanding and loving. I didn't want to hurt them more. I was able to be strong for them. Not for me! This cancer wasn't just mine, we all felt it.

I was scared, scared that I'd die and leave those I love alone, especially Jordan, my son. My amazing, beautiful son. I knew that I didn't want to tell him anything yet. What was the point? Tell him I had cancer and that I could die but I may not depending on what the upcoming tests say. How can anyone tell their child that there is a chance you will leave them alone, I couldn't tell him as I couldn't give him a solution. Heart-breaking. I really struggled with my emotions when it came to Jordan. He knew something was going on and was clearly worried, I didn't want to make it worse. I feared for him. How would he cope loosing his mum so young. I was so scared I'd let him down. I broke a little each time I thought about him.

I've never been so angry! Furious that this disease can just appear, take a hold of your life, of anyone's life at any time. I realised that cancer doesn't discriminate, it can get anyone, anywhere. Angry that I couldn't carry on with my life, I had to tell my boss and go on long term sick, I couldn't run around with my son or stay up and have a movie night because the pain was too much. Forget anymore dates or nights out with the girls. No more squash or walking. Just nothing.

Strangely, there were moments when I knew I was strong enough to fight this cancer, no matter what the results told me about staging and treatment. I refused to believe it could all be over, that I wouldn't see my son grow up and carry on making great memories with those I loved. This emotion, I shared with those closest to me, the ones who knew. I couldn't show them the dark thoughts so I created positive ones. I joked and laughed and pretended everything was going to be OK and at times, I believed it myself. I pushed these thoughts on those I loved and they pushed me right back. I discovered that I had the best friends, the most amazing parents and the greatest sisters and brothers in the world. They made my pretend positive thinking real, at least, some of the time. They gave me hope...

But the guilt got me the most. Everyone I loved now looked at me with such sorrow, I could feel them hurting for me and it killed me. Seeing my friends and family in pain because of me! Because I could die and there was nothing they could do. Waiting to find out if I was terminal was hard enough but watching others wait as well was so painful. I felt guilty that my son may loose his mum, it was to soon. We still had a life to live.

Today, I understand that the crazy thoughts and feelings I had during these two weeks were good for me. At the time, I thought I should only be positive, I should man up and keep being strong. But now I know that I needed to feel everything I felt, I needed to process it all and however I was feeling at whatever time, was perfectly fine. I had every right to feel however I needed to. I was about to start the hardest fight of my life and however I needed to deal with it was perfect. I want everyone who has to go through a time like the above in their life to know it is OK, your not wrong for feeling a certain way or for acting differently. If you want to cry, then cry or if it's to shout that you need, do it. Cry, shout, laugh, worry do it all. It's your body and your life. Your priorities change and these feelings help you see what's important.

Feeling scared, angry, guilty, sad and positive all in one go isn't something I thought possible but it is. I couldn't do anything but wait. Little did I know that playing 'the waiting game' was going to be a regular occurrence for the foreseeable future.

Meeting Mr MRI Machine...

Finally, my two weeks of waiting came to an end in the way of my first MRI scan. I'd never seen a MRI machine before or really knew what they were. My only knowledge of an MRI machine was an episode of scrubs I'd watched when I was a teenager. In this particular episode, a lady is in the scanner but it breaks and she is stuck in there. So on the morning of the scan this image flashed before me again and again on a loop. I was terrified.

Not knowing what to expect, my mum, Emily and myself headed to Halifax hospital to have my first of many scans. I was taken to a room where a lovely nurse asked me lots of questions about my health, told to remove any jewellery, gowned me up and left us to wait.

Tick tock..... Another half an hour went by. We joked and laughed in the
waiting room about my 'scrubs fear' but I was cacking myself. I don't know
how else to put it. Just a scan, that's what everyone told me, but to me it was much more. This scan was going to tell me if I had a fight to start or if
the battle was over before it had even begun.

To say I was nervous is an understatement. I was petrified!

Then the nurse came to tell me it was time, I think she could see how I was feeling, before we went she sat down and explained everything. She told me that the scan would take about 45 minutes. I would be laid down on a bed with a large plastic strap over my pelvic, this would hold me in place along with another strap over my arms. I wouldn't be able to move much and needed to keep the rest of me as still as possible. It would be very hot and extremely loud but I would have a panic button in my hand. Not so bad right? Take me to your machine...

 And so in I went, in just my gown and socks. I remember laying down on the bed waiting for it to begin, I was shaking so much and knew that I needed to keep still. Have you ever tried to keep still? It's not as easy as you'd think. The room was emptied and as I laid there waiting for it to start all I could think was, 'please don't get stuck, please, please don't get stuck!' I felt stupid for being so scared but couldn't help it, I couldn't talk myself down. Then the my bed started to move, I was being moved head first into the machine, it was like being slowly eaten by a big metal circle. Open wide, I'm coming in....

Then I was in, all I could see was white, I was in a white circle, strapped to a bed, feeling pretty naked but surprisingly, I was OK. I was comfy, it wasn't as closed in and claustrophobic as I thought. The nurses voice came through the speaker to warn me they were about to start scanning, "it's about to start and it is going to get loud, just relax!"  Relax she said and I just laughed. It was my first real laugh since I was told I had cancer. I'm still not sure exactly what I found so funny but no one had told me to just relax in such a scary location before. But why was I so scared? I couldn't remember any more. And then the noise started. Wow, I wasn't expecting that. It was like a suction noise on repeat. BRRRR BRRRR BRRR over and over. I could feel, what I can only describe as a line of heat moving up and down my back, it got hotter and hotter and sweat was dripping all over me but that was it. 45 minutes of heat and noise, heat and noise, don't move, just relax and then I heard the nurse say, "Well done, we've finished the scan, stay just as relaxed as you are and we will come get you out." And again I laughed, 'stay just as relaxed' really? Did I seem that relaxed? I wasn't so sure but I had had my first of many MRI scans and I was OK, I certainly wasn't stuck in the machine. Job done and time to go home. What was the big deal?

I can completely relate to and understand the fear that comes with scans but my first time helped me to realise that it is never as bad as you think, well not when it comes to meeting Mr MRI, he's a good guy really ;)

So with the MRI scan done, it was time for my first biopsy...

Biopsy. It's just a word. I soon discovered that numerous words, words that I'd never even heard were going to spoke a lot and they aren't always just words. Sometimes they scare you.

So, I was told I needed a biopsy in order to discover the stage of my cancer and to find out if there was any treatment available to me. That didn't tell me much, so I Googled, as we all do. Google told me this about a biopsy:

A biopsy is a medical test commonly performed by a surgeon, interventional radiologist, or an interventional cardiologist involving sampling of cells or tissues for examination. It is the medical removal of tissue from a living subject to determine the presence or extent of a disease. The tissue is generally examined under a microscope by a pathologist, and can also be analysed chemically.

So that's a biopsy! More words but what was really going to happen to me. Waiting for this surgery was much worse than waiting for my MRI. I had been told that I would be put to sleep and that the surgeon would remove a section from the mass of cancer and then that would be sent for testing. I would be able to go home the same day and it would leave me a little sore and sleepy but that's all.

Great! Easy Peasy. Knowing that didn't stop me from once again cacking myself. I can't put in words what it was that scared me this time, I had no sit-com memories putting me off and all the doctors told me it was very straight forward. I was scared regardless.

So it began the night before, no food from 7 pm. Can't have surgery with food in your belly. Up bright and early the next day and back to the hospital. Once again I was 'gowned up and left to wait. That's when I met my first anaesthetist, what a cool guy he was. He did the standard health questions and told me it was his job to knock me out. He made me feel so relaxed its untrue and I wish I knew his name so I could thank him. After he'd explained he asked me to get into bed so he could wheel me off to get started, and so we went. He pumped me full of his 'knock out' potion as he put it and the last thing I remember is chatting about our mutual love of Metallica.

And then nothing... until I woke up.

Just like that, I was awake, starving and busting for a wee. It was over. I was fine and now we would get some answers. The lovely doctors helped me to the toilet and got me some toast. Then, to my amazement, I realised, for the first time in months, there was no pain. My lovely anaesthetist had pumped me up good with pain killers and, for a while at least, I was actually pain free. I was giddy. My mum came to see me and I could feel her relief, we were happy together and it was only the beginning. That was the moment I realised things couldn't get worse which meant they could only get better.

• MRI - Check
• Biopsy - Check
• Results day....

Results day came. That morning, everything seemed to slow down. My appointment wasn't until the afternoon and I felt numb. This was going to be a life changing day. Would it be bad news? What stage was I? Is it curable? I still didn't quite grasp what it all meant. Why did it matter what stage I was? Cancer is Cancer, right? So I did what I do best and once again turned to Google:

The stage of a cancer describes the size of a tumour and how far it has spread from where it originated. The grade describes the appearance of the cancerous cells.

If you're diagnosed with cancer, you may have more tests to help determine how far it has progressed. Staging and grading the cancer will allow the doctors to determine its size, whether it has spread and the best treatment options.

Cancer stages

Different types of staging systems are used for different types of cancer. Below is an example of one common method of staging:

• stage 0 – indicates that the cancer is where it started (in situ) and hasn't spread
• stage 1 – the cancer is small and hasn't spread anywhere else
• stage 2 – the cancer has grown, but hasn't spread
• stage 3 – the cancer is larger and may have spread to the surrounding tissues and/or the lymph nodes (part of the lymphatic system) 
• stage 4 – the cancer has spread from where it started to at least one other body organ; also known as "secondary" or "metastatic" cancer

Ok. Thanks Google. So I now knew that I wanted stage 0 and stage 4 would be my worse nightmare. I shouldn't have started Googling. Now I knew what the stages were, I googled my symptoms, my pain, my bleeding and I diagnosed myself stage 4. I made my own fear worse and I think, hope and pray that others in my situation, talk to their doctors and not Mr Google. He tends to give you worse case scenarios, he knows a lot but not enough.

Then, before I knew it, it was time to go. Get of Google and go find out how bad it really was...

Once again, of to the hospital. Though this time, there would be no scans, no gowns or surgeries, just information. But I had my tribe with me. ME, Becky, Emily and my mum sat down in silence in front of the oncologist. My mum was fighting to keep the tears back, Becky was shaking like a leaf and Emily sat there looking ready for anything, note book in hand, she wasn't going to miss a single detail.

I only saw this oncologist once. Pleasantries over, he got straight to the point, " Your diagnosis is 'squamous cell carcinoma of the cervix, stage 3B and node negative'. OK? Well what does that mean? Then he told me the best 5 words I could ever hear, " you'll have curative treatment".

CURATIVE! YES! I'M NOT GOING TO LEAVE MY SON. BRING IT ON!

I was so relieved that the rest of that appointment is a blur to me. All I could think about is Jordan, my son. I can see you grow up. I cried and smiled and nodded and paid little to no attention to anything else that was said. Good old Emily had that covered. Following the meeting she gave me her note book. She had everything written in perfect detail. From my stage to what happened next, she had it all there for me to read -

• Stage 3 meant that the cancer had spread from my cervix into the structures around it. The B part meant that the tumour had grown through to the pelvic wall or was blocking 1 or both of the tubes that drain my kidneys (the ureters). I'd know which once all my results had been looked at by a specialist from St James Hospital in Leeds.
• The tumour was large. Described as 6cm mass.
• My tratment would take place at St James Hospital and I was to be looked after by an oncologist named Racheal Cooper.
• THE TREATMENT. I was going to have Chemo-radiation and brachey therapy. To be exact, I would have Cisplatin (type of Chemo) once a week and at these appointments I would be in hospital all day being pumped with the poison and monitored by hospital staff. Along with this, five days a week (Mon-Fri) I would have radiotherapy, for which I would need to be at hospital for about an hour a day for. This would be my routine for 5 weeks. 5 days a week, 25 days of being zapped with radiation and 5 days of being pumped with poison (chemo). Following this, once a week for 4 weeks I would have brachey therapy. This is another form of radiotherapy but it would be internal radiation. Following the external radiation and chemo, once a week for 4 weeks, I would be given a spinal anaesthetic (similar to an epidural, I would be numb from the waist down) then I would be hooked up (via my lady bits) to a radiation machine. This machine would connect directly with the cancer and zap the 6 cm mass directly.

So that was the plan. there would be lots of nasty side affects, sickness, constipation, diarrhoea, loss of appetite and weight, but I wouldn't lose my hair and after a few weeks the pain and bleeding should get better. I had a hard fight coming but I could win!

So that's my story from finding out I had cancer to being given a stage and treatment plan. Looking back, that was the easy part. I was given hope again, I knew that things were going to be hard but now I knew it would end and life wasn't over. I became a fighter rather than a victim. Nothing was going to stop me now.

I still smile when I say Curative treatment.

I hope reading this helps someone, anyone, life is tough and it can always get worse but it can and will get better. Look out for my next blog to find out what came next and to read about the battle I fought during the treatment stage of my cancer story, the ups and downs of it all...