I helped my friend through cancer – then mine came back

My appointment was late. I remember sitting in the waiting area thinking: If it’s cancer, surely they wouldn’t leave me hanging? 

Finally in the room, I expected the doctor to check my name, date of birth – but he didn’t do that. Beside him were a couple of nurses, which seemed a bit overkill for my results to be nothing. That’s when the doctor told me it was breast cancer. 

I had found a lump in my breast, close to my armpit, at the start of October half term in 2017. By December I had been scheduled for a lumpectomy. Subsequent scans and a biopsy showed the cancer hadn’t spread to my lymph nodes; it was followed up with six rounds of chemotherapy, one every three weeks. 

I felt progressively worse as time went on. I lost my hair – it would just fall out of my head as I was walking down the hallway.

I let the kids shave my head which, in the circumstances, was quite a nice way of doing it. My daughter Amelia, who was then six, plaited a piece, which she cut off and kept. 

I started being sick after the second session, and then the nausea started before I even got to the hospital because I knew what was coming. By session six, I ended up being admitted because I was vomiting non-stop.

The next stage was radiotherapy, which I finished on August 10, 2018. It marked the end of my active treatment, and I was told I was clear of disease.

Afterwards, I thought: ‘Right, time to move on; to start living our best lives’. I have a group of five school-mum friends, Debbie, Natalie, Sam and Steph and we would get together, eat pizza, drink Prosecco and occasionally plan some fundraising events for breast cancer charities – starting with a 1,000 mile bike ride in September 2018. 

We raised about £2,500 and it was really good for me to have something positive to focus on – I’m not very good at being still.

Buoyed by the cycle, we took on muddy runs – not that all of us were thrilled about it. Some of my friends really like being clean and having their nails done, but they couldn’t say no to the girl who had cancer.

Reaching the five year mark after diagnosis really boosted my confidence; research suggests that five years clear of disease is a big step. Taking the cancer drug Tamoxifen was a daily reminder of what I’d been through but reaching that milestone was a bit of a sigh of relief.

It was around this time I noticed Debbie was a little quiet; not her normal, chatty self. We had known each other for almost a decade, since our older two kids, now both 12, were in infant school, and our younger kids, Matthew and Libby, are both eight and thick as thieves.

I was about to text her but before I could, my phone pinged with a message from her, telling she had found a lump. 

I was floored. Obviously, it took me back to getting my diagnosis but you just don’t want anyone you know to have to go through cancer. 

I knew how it would impact her and her children: they were older than mine when I found out, and whereas I didn’t even tell my then two-year-old son, her kids would understand everything. 

Debbie had a lump in her neck as well as her breast and the immediate worry was that it had already spread to other organs. 

Waiting for her results was agony. I didn’t want to be that person pestering – but I’ve never checked my phone quite so much as I did that day.  

Mercifully, Debbie’s cancer hadn’t spread but she was diagnosed with Stage 3 breast cancer. 

Once Debbie got a treatment plan, I wanted to support her. Childcare was at the top of the list. There were some days, in the first week after each chemo session, that were really hard to drag myself to school.

It was easy for me to collect Libby when I got Matthew and bring her back to ours for tea. When she started chemo, we worked out which days she tended to feel worse, and I took Libby to school, too.

I still do that now every Friday – it’s become our little ritual – because despite having completed treatment, Debbie has been badly impacted by the side effects. 

People often think that once you’ve finished chemo, you’re done and out the other side. 

But I found the second lump in my armpit in the May half term last year (half terms aren’t good for me!) and scans revealed that not only had my cancer returned, it had spread. It was in my lungs. 

I found out a few hours before the school fete. Debbie was in the midst of treatment, so Libby was coming with us. 

I remember walking around all these stalls, paying money for anything and everything but thinking, ‘Oh, God…’. I spent a fortune on the Teddy Tombola for Libby –  she must have gone home with about 20 of them – knowing that Debbie’s husband, Andy, couldn’t argue because I had cancer, again.

I’m now having weekly chemo sessions. I have seen some reduction in size but treatment now is just to try and keep the cancer stable. The other week at chemo someone asked how many weeks I had left.

I told her that my treatment is ongoing and she replied, ‘But, it can’t just go on forever?’ I said ‘No, you’re right, it can’t,’ and she started crying on me. 

The plan is just to keep going. I like to think I lived my life to the fullest before cancer, but now, when my son Matthew climbs into bed and asks to read a bit more of his book I say yes.

I don’t want to miss out on stuff. In some respects, because I know what lies ahead, I get the chance to live my best life. Some people will never get that. 

This world can be awful but I think we can all just do our own little bit to make it a little bit better. Last year, Debbie and I hosted an afternoon tea to raise money for Breast Cancer Now; we raised £12,000. 

We’ve just done another one and increased our total to £10,000. Half is going to Breast Cancer Now and the other half to the Cavell Unit at Dewsbury Hospital, where Debbie and I both had treatment.

Debbie checks in with me every Monday to ask how I’m doing. But it’s hard for her. My secondary diagnosis is a reminder about the risk of reoccurrence.

She is having scans every year and already walking on eggshells – having the stage 4 girl up the road can’t be helpful. But it’s helped massively to be in each other’s lives.

I’m glad I could be there to support her, and likewise. We are still there for each other.

As told to Rosy Edwards

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk. 

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