Dee's Story

Like most women who have had a breast cancer diagnosis, I was initially stunned, terrified, and immobilised. In the past I had not known many people with cancer, and my immediate emotional response sent me right back to childhood where cancer had always been spoken of in hushed tones; a cancer diagnosis was inevitably followed by a funeral.

With surgery imminent, (a lumpectomy was planned), I changed gear, and became more rational. My usual means of dealing with a problem is to read, sift through information, and then take action, so my daughter and I organised an assault on the local the library and came home armed with all we could find on the subject. These books ranged from factual, technical material, to softer, new age approaches to illness and alternative therapies.

During this short stage, I learned as much as I could about my condition. While I knew that my cancer was not necessarily a death sentence, for a while each stage seemed to bring me nothing but grim news. A lumpectomy was followed by a full mastectomy of the right breast, and more than half of the lymph nodes examined were affected.

My first meeting with an oncologist followed. He gave me a grim prognosis, but felt that chemotherapy followed by Tamoxifen would give me the best chance provided there were no metastases. I think that the following two or three weeks, where I had a number of x-rays and scans, were the hardest. But, against the odds, I had no secondaries, so became part of a clinical trial and was monitored carefully for the six months of treatment and was seen regularly for the following five years.

Chemotherapy was, I believe, relatively kind, though my family did not always agree! I saw many others undergoing treatment at first-hand and observed their constant nausea and vomiting. I felt blessed. Though I had some side effects, including complete loss of my hair, they were manageable, and I was supported with excellent medical care. As well, stress was minimal because I had a sympathetic employer who allowed me time off to cope with my tired days. Overall, I felt more in control. I was having alternative treatments, primarily to boost my immune system, and I improved my diet, eating more vegetables and cutting back on dairy products.

At the five-year check up, my oncologist told me that I had reached the point where I had "no more chance of getting a recurrence than the rest of the population". Given my original prognosis, I was overjoyed. And I was keeping really well, so this seemed confirmation that my illness was beaten. Even so, I was always careful to talk about my cancer being in remission. I'd seen others who had a recurrence, or secondary cancers, some years after they had felt themselves fully healed.

Early last year I wrote "It is now almost eight years since the lump was detected and I'm feeling very positive. So much so, that we have created a new life direction. My partner is retired and I am working part-time so that we can work on our lifestyle block and breed alpacas".

Sadly we have had to let go of this dream, because in August last year - almost exactly eight years from diagnosis - I had emergency surgery to determine the cause of an obstruction in the small bowel. Throughout 2003 I had had recurring episodes of acute pain and violent vomiting. After four visits to the emergency clinic, and removal of my gall bladder, new surgery was scheduled. At no time until then did any of the medical and surgical staff believe that my condition was cancer. In their view, "breast cancer does not go the gut". However, I have since learned that lobular cancer, in rare cases, does. I was one of the unlucky ones! The surgeon found extensive secondary breast cancer within the peritoneal cavity.

In retrospect the oncologist thinks that I exhibited early symptoms of the disease in 2001, (ironically, at the five-year milestone), when I was concerned that I had giardia. A colonoscopy was done, but showed no disease, and I remained symptom free until New Years' Eve 2002, when the first painful episodes occurred.

My prognosis after surgery was grim. This is a terminal disease. At the time I was given no time frame, but my daughters and I were given no false hopes. I left hospital with immediate referrals to community support, and had a palliative care nurse and Hospice nurses visiting or phoning regularly over the next few months. Initially, I fell into a pattern of simply waiting to die. I didn't know what to expect, but believed that I had very little time left. However, I guess that a "wait and see" approach does not really suit me so, when nothing had changed within a couple of months I took charge of my life again. Although I wept when I said goodbye to the alpacas, and again when we finally left our lifestyle dream, it seemed sensible that we move to spend my remaining time living closer to my daughters and grandchildren. We now live a very different lifestyle. And we love our new home and location. We have new projects and plans, and I have become a student again, thoroughly enjoying the challenge of something totally new - a course in creative writing. I'm also doing different handwork and craft activities, and love that I have time for these things. Last week I experienced great satisfaction as I completed a set of roman blinds for my grandchildren's bedroom, and the mosaic birdbath (a joint effort with the children) will soon be finished.

Since having surgery I have had to deal with new personal plumbing, (an ileostomy), but this is such a small price to pay for symptom free living. I do not know what the future will bring, but am feeling very positive. In fact, it's hard to remember the anguish of that diagnosis last year. Realistically, I know that I have cancer, but I am not an invalid. My health is good, (which I find mildly amusing - despite cancer I keep well). I hope that my disease will progress slowly. Or maybe even halt. (After all miracles do happen. Why not to me?)

Treatment is a combination of orthodox and alternative. The oncologist prescribes Arimidex, and I take phenergan three times a day. This latter therapy is not widely known or practised but, fortunately, my doctor is happy to write prescriptions. Also, I will be travelling to Auckland three times a year for visits to a health practitioner and I meditate two or three times a week. Best of all, I have found in retirement a slower pace of life that is wonderfully liberating.

Dee's Story

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