The day after my cancer diagnosis, I had a CT scan of my organs, to check if the cancer had spread anywhere. The results were rushed through by the afternoon, and it was the best possible news in the circumstances - no sign that it had spread anywhere yet. The CT scan picked up a small cyst on my kidney (more on that, later).
Three weeks after my diagnosis, I underwent surgery to remove a chunk of my bowel. During the surgery, the colorectal surgeon discovered that the cancer had spread to some lymph nodes and my liver. I would need another operation and then 6 months of chemotherapy. When the surgeon told me this news, I immediately threw up and started crying. All I could think was that I am going to die.
The day after my bowel surgery, I was given a PET-CT scan - this is the gold medal standard of cancer-detecting scans. This scan detected the tumour in my liver, but showed no other evidence of the disease anywhere else. I was given a breast examination and mammogram. Again, no sign of further disease. I was discharged from hospital 3 days after my surgery.
Three weeks after my bowel surgery, I underwent surgery to remove the section of my liver where the cancer had spread to. The next day, I had a further (minor) medical procedure, to insert a portacath into my chest. (A portacath is needed to administer chemotherapy). I was discharged from hospital 3 days after my surgery.
Three weeks after my liver surgery, I started chemo. I have now completed 7 rounds, and have 5 rounds left. Each round of chemo has had its own share of complications. The worst was my 2nd round, when I was completely overwhelmed by un-ending nausea combined with fecal impaction (severe constipation, requiring an enema). I was absolutely at my lowest point and could not see how I could possibly survive any further chemo. Fortunately, each round since then has been less traumatic.
The hardest thing I've had to do in the past 5 months, was explain to my 7 year old son that I have cancer but the doctors hope they can make me better. His immediate question was "are you going to die, mummy?".
The most frustrating thing I've had to deal with in the past 5 months, is wait for my income protection insurance claim to be approved. I am still waiting.
While I am not happy to have cancer, I am grateful for the lessons it has taught me (to make the most of each day I have on this earth; not to sweat the small stuff; to tell my family and friends how much I love them, often). I have also been overwhelmed by the love and support provided to me from family, friends, our school community and various cancer charities. And of course, I have been so impressed by the warmth, care and professionalism of the myriad of health professionals who have entered my life in the past 5 months.
I hope to help raise community awareness of colorectal cancer. It can happen to anyone at any age, no matter how fit and healthy you may be. Don't ignore symptoms such as bloating, constipation, and blood in your poo.
Share your Kick Ass Story
In celebration of International Women’s Day each year, Bowel Cancer Australia raises awareness of bowel cancer in women and shares empowering stories from Aussie women who are kicking bowel cancer’s ass.
Are you a kick ass woman living with or beyond bowel cancer, or do you have a female family member or friend that is?
We’re seeking female volunteers of all ages to share their experiences to help raise awareness of bowel cancer in women as part of our annual Kick Ass: Bowel Cancer In Women initiative in March.
Share your own story and help us kick bowel cancer’s ass.