I found myself feeding a stray cat on the beach under the restaurant deck, the fish from my plate when no one was looking. I was suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that I would be sick if I ate another mouthful and was strangely embarrassed by this. Then a tight little cough started as we wandered Greek temples, gazed on Roman mosaics and basked in the sunshine, my unease grew. By Naples my appetite was reduced to a tiny morsel of veal scaloppini while my family scoffed spaghetti volcani. When we arrived in Rome I found that when I was walked up stairs I would be completely breathless. I knew something was not right but I kept thinking that “it is very hot and I really must get back into shape!”
A week after our return to Melbourne and six days after my first visit to my GP I woke with the small old cough but now it was painful on my left side when I coughed. The CT scan for the suspected pulmonary embolism instead revealed cancer in my lungs, liver and bones. Great I thought “the bloody trifecta!”
On reflection I am not sure that I actually knew what a return or spread of breast cancer would look like or feel like and I think that maybe I took too much reassurance from passing that five year milestone.
So here I am a further two years on, as a MBC lifer with treatment required for the remainder of my life. The diagnosis was an overwhelming experience. I recognise that there is much that I am likely to miss out on like weddings, births and grandchildren but I have realised that there is not a lot that I can do about that, aside from doing my best to remain as fit and healthy as possible, aside from the cancer.