Kathryn P’s story

Just before Christmas in 2018, I was diagnosed with bowel cancer at 39.

Like many others, I only experienced a few symptoms which were so generic and common among women my age that I thought I had a food intolerance. Bloating. Occasional tummy pains. Constipation. Feeling more tired than usual. But I was busy living life – being mum to my 4-year-old and 8-year-old daughters, working hard at a job I love, juggling pick-ups & drop offs, socialising with friends and trying to get to the gym a few times a week – so it was easy to ignore the signs. I thought they were just a result of the ‘busyness’ of life. I thought I should probably just drink more water and get on with things. I thought cancer was something that happened to other people, not me.

Several visits to my GP in late 2018 resulted with more than one doctor telling me that I was “too young to be at risk for bowel cancer” even with a family history of it. I tried everything suggested to alleviate the symptoms, with no luck. A nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right became hard to ignore, so eventually I gave in to my mum’s advice and went back to the GP to ask for a colonoscopy referral… it infuriates me now to remember the doctor half-smiling as she reluctantly printed the referral, suggesting that I just wait another week or two to see if the symptoms disappear. I felt like a hypochondriac and delayed my colonoscopy date several times… easy to do during a busy time of year when the calendar is full of work, dance & school concerts, and end of year events. I remember thinking “I don’t have time for this” but ironically it has taken a cancer diagnosis, and six months of sitting on the sidelines (otherwise known as my couch) whilst going through chemotherapy, to realise that I did have time… I just had my priorities wrong.

My colonoscopy revealed a sigmoid colon tumour which would need surgery, although we had to wait for test results to confirm if it was cancer. It was just before Christmas, but I was lucky to be referred to a great surgeon who was able to fit me in before the holidays. I think I was in shock or denial – when I was told it was cancer, I again thought “I don’t have time for this” and silently vowed I’d bounce back from surgery and be back to ‘normal’ life faster than he suggested. I was more upset about not being home on Christmas morning to open presents with my kids and husband than I was about having cancer. Surgery went as planned, with the tumour removed along with a section of my bowel and 34 lymph nodes from the surrounding area. I was sore but feeling positive and counting down the days, hours, minutes until I could leave hospital and go home to start a fresh, shiny new year. All the nurses who looked after me commented, “you’re so young to have bowel cancer”.

I’ll never forget hearing the results that there was cancer showing in 7 of my lymph nodes. So many questions, yet I could see my surgeon’s mouth moving but not actually hear anything he said. I had stage 3 bowel cancer and my plans for the new year ahead were to be replaced with 8 cycles of chemotherapy over 6 months. I was scared about what my diagnosis meant and how I would explain it to my daughters, whether I’d be able to keep working and how we would manage things at home. But I think the overwhelming fear is wondering if this is how my story ends and wondering if I had wasted years thanks to the naivety of feeling assured of a long and healthy life.

Now I’m almost at the end of chemotherapy, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. My chemo treatment plan combines Olaxiplatin intravenously in hospital on day 1, with Capecitabine tablets at home on days 1 to 14. It hasn’t been an easy ride, but it does help that I can take the tablets at home and (sort of) be present for my kids while undergoing treatment. Some days my biggest achievement is getting out of bed. The physical side effects have been much more intense than I imagined, and at times the emotional and mental toll is just as taxing (particularly in the middle of the night when steroids prevent sleep and your mind spins). For someone who loves ticking off to-do lists and getting stuff done, I’ve found it incredibly difficult to just stop and do nothing.

I consider myself lucky. I have days when it’s hard to be positive, but I have a lot to be grateful for: being diagnosed with cancer has changed me for the better. Quintessentially, I’m the same person yet I’m different – still an egg, but scrambled. I wonder if the experience will leave me always on alert, as nothing in life is guaranteed? Despite my fears when first diagnosed as stage 3, many things have worked out ok so far. I am incredibly lucky that I have great family and friends who would drop everything to be there to support me, even in the early days when I hadn’t yet learned how to say yes to offers of help. I’ve been able to keep working reduced hours from home whilst doing chemo, giving me sanity on days when I’m sick of being sick. I’ve been looked after by kind and compassionate nurses in the oncology day unit, adding a sense of calm and humour to an otherwise crappy list of appointments.

Several people in my circle of friends/family had colonoscopies after my diagnosis, which I’m so happy to have prompted them to do. Talking about poo and colonoscopies isn’t pretty, but if my story can help someone else avoid a bowel cancer diagnosis, I’ll happily shout it from the roof tops. I’ve learnt that, despite what we all think, when faced with a cancer diagnosis you aren’t braver or stronger than anyone else. You just hop onto the roller-coaster and go on the ride – there is no choice. We all know that cancer doesn’t discriminate… young or old, male or female, we are all at risk. If you have any symptoms of bowel changes, a family history of bowel cancer, or just a nagging feeling that something isn’t quite right for you, please go to your GP and ensure you get tested. The only way we can truly kick cancer’s ass is to speak up and be an advocate for our own health – know your body and don’t be embarrassed by speaking up when you feel something isn’t right.

No one ever plans to join the cancer club, but it does come with its benefits. I have a much better clarity on what matters in life at a younger age. I realise I can (and will) make time for the things that matter to me and my little family. Although the next few years will involve many more tests, I’m hopeful that my treatment will buy me the time to grow old. Time to swim in the ocean, to dance, to laugh, to read books, and to give love… the time that could have so easily been stolen if I hadn’t had a colonoscopy when I did.