Chemo Comfort Zone?

So I haven’t posted for a while because I’ve been observing my journey. Reflecting on all sorts really. Dr Rosanna and I started off this blog with a view to looking at the effect of optimising my microbiome on my wellbeing throughout treatment. Ironically I haven’t commented at all on that, but six cycles of chemo down (and finished- woohoo!), I can genuinely say that, when my side-effects have allowed and I’ve been able to eat foods that I know give my microbiome a boost, I’ve felt at my best. This is all helpful going forward, so green bananas, Greek yoghurt and whole foods it is! Getting into such healthy habits has got to be good news for my waistline, when I start on my 10 years of Tamoxifen, which apparently can make you gain weight. We’ll see about that- I’m currently hanging out for my first take-away curry and glass of red wine, which I haven’t been allowed for five months! I reckon it could be a slippery slope!

So I had a shock the other day. I was talking to someone who pointed out that when I finished my chemo I would get to ring the bell on the Christie chemo suite to celebrate. I wanted to cry. I felt like I didn’t want to finish my chemo! Whaaaat???  Am I in a chemo comfort zone? The thing is, chemo has become a temporary way of life. I know what to expect and I’ve worked out how to manage things to minimise the side-effects. I’m a nurse – I love doing that! As a patient, it gives me a sense of control. Also, so long as I was having chemotherapy I didn’t have to think about the next step. Surgery.

Two days post my last chemo treatment, I now find myself on a new rollercoaster of events. I saw a Clinical psychologist yesterday, who was assessing whether I am of sound mind to make a decision about whether or not to have my other, healthy, breast removed. My oncologist told me that the cancer in my left breast has a 1 in 4 chance of returning as a primary cancer in my right. In my mind, that is greater than the chance of rolling a six on a dice. He’s the man who knows about cancer. That was all he needed to say!

This afternoon I am going to see my breast care specialist nurse, who is going to follow up the consultation I had with her and my surgeon last week, to talk me through the brutal realities of the different surgeries I could choose. It will be interesting to see how I am afterwards. All I know is that over the last week I have had some new things to come to terms with and, if I’m honest, they’ve taken me by surprise!

The first of two surgeries is in the diary. November 16^th. That’s five weeks today. Based on the discussions I had with my surgeon last week and, the advice of my oncologist, back in August, I am erring towards a full mastectomy and lymph node clearance. I am all about minimising risk. I do NOT want any cancer left. The flip side of that is that I have five weeks to mourn the loss of my left boob – the one that’s trying to kill me! Even though I don’t think my identity is caught up in my breasts, it will be interesting to see how that plays out. As I’m discovering, you just don’t know how you’re going to feel. Things take you by surprise.

Choosing Fear or Faith?

My final reflection is of the impact on my faith. Very interesting. I won’t lie. I’ve had doubts. I had a wobble when I saw my oncologist, in August, and he talked about lymph nodes! I explained to him that, as far as I was aware, the cancer was in just one lymph node and that it had been diagnosed as stage one! He was quick to correct me. He explained that the size of the tumour alone, meant it was beyond stage one and that the MRI scans showed that it was in multiple lymph nodes, on both sides of my breast. This meant it was more like stage two or three. MASSIVE blow. I wanted to cry.

However, he went on to say that the scans also showed a significant response to the chemo, at the halfway point, and that they were still viewing the treatment as curative. So in essence, nothing had changed. But I had to get my head around a whole new concept.

Fear got in and I found myself lying awake one night, all alone, tormented by thoughts: “What if the cancer comes back?”; “What if I die?”; “What if God’s not real?” The last one was the worst. I feel that, so long as I’ve got God and I know He’s there, I can face anything. Too scared to burden my husband with it, I texted a dear friend and told her what I was feeling. She immediately put it into context:

FEAR: stands for, FALSE EVIDENCE APPEARING REAL.

Boom! Clarity! So I chose not to entertain those thoughts. Instead I decided to look for truth. Even in the face of such shocking news, I could still see God in it. How glad I was, that an unintentional breakdown in communication had occurred. It meant that no one had uttered the words, “stage three” to me at the beginning! Stage four is the one with the worst prognosis. If “stage three cancer” had been mentioned at the outset, I’d have freaked out. How grateful I was to have been spared that information until there was evidence to show that the treatment was working and that the doctors were still viewing it as curative. I’ve learnt from my faith journey so far, that God never gives you more than you can handle. He certainly proved that in this instance!

Only on one other occasion, did I feel fear creep in again. And this was one whopping example of false evidence appearing real! A friend, whose relative is undergoing exactly the same treatment for exactly the same type of breast cancer, mentioned to me that her consultant had said that this type of cancer doesn’t always respond to chemotherapy. Immediately I felt frightened. Why? I already knew that my cancer had shown a “significant response” to the chemotherapy. What was this fear about? I cried out to God! Literally – sobbing in my kitchen. I said to Him – “I just need you to give me something – anything – to reassure me that you’re there!”

Within an hour and then over the next 24, He reassured me, in a way that I couldn’t have predicted. Two people, in separate instances, both encouraged me, that what I’d described as a “wobble”, with the jump from stage one to stage three, and the mention of multiple lymph node involvement, was actually huge, from a human perspective. But, what they both said they observed in me, was a remarkable inner strength, that enabled me to bounce straight back. When they pointed it out, I realised that that had been exactly my experience.

Looking back over this last five months, I have felt like I have been firmly rooted. I have felt as though, whatever turbulence has come, I’ve been able to stand tall. The unexpected has given me a punch in the face and temporarily knocked me sideways. But I have never felt like I became uprooted. It has been like my feet have been fixed to the spot and every time, I have reverted to the upright position.

Literally, the only thing I’ve been able to do about it is to make a choice. What am I going to listen to – the fear or the faith? False evidence appearing real, or the Word of God? Am I going to choose the narrative that cripples me, or the one that builds me up and feeds my soul? Everywhere I’ve been on this journey, people remark on how amazingly well I look and how “good” I am. Even the specialists delivering my care, who see people in my shoes, all of the time. That is the evidence I’m looking at. The fruit of a choice. My choice to focus on what God says about who He is, how much He loves us and about how He can do immeasurably more than all we could ask or imagine (Ephesians 3:20).

So, I will leave you with a final musing, on a Bible passage that seems to capture my experience perfectly:

“Be prepared. You’re up against far more than you can handle on your own. Take all the help you can get, every weapon God has issued, so that when it’s all over, but the shouting, you’ll still be on your feet. Truth, righteousness, peace, faith, and salvation are more than words. Learn how to apply them. You’ll need them throughout your life. God’s word is an indispensable weapon.” (Ephesians 6:13)