Help me kick cancer's arse to the kerb

THEM: Lightning never strikes twice. No one could be unlucky enough to be diagnosed with a life-limiting lung condition and then be diagnosed with incurable cancer.

ME: Hold my beer.

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Look, I’ll cut to the chase. In a minute I’m going to be asking you to donate some money to a small, local charity that’s been really helpful during my treatment, but I want to start by explaining why their work is so important to me.

In July 2022 I was diagnosed with Free Light Chain Myeloma. It may sound like something from a science-fiction movie, but it’s actually a rare form of blood cancer and, sadly, there’s nothing fictional about it.

Myeloma is a sneaky little bastard. It will have been creeping about in my bone marrow for a while, but it’s only when it reaches a progressed level and leaks out into your bloodstream that you notice something’s wrong.

In my case, I was exhausted, confused and spaced out and there was no reasonable explanation.

Until there was. Myeloma was raging through my bone marrow. It had eaten away at my spine and caused a wedge fracture near its base. It had overwhelmed my kidneys and they remain damaged.

Myeloma’s rare and usually only seen in people over 70. It accounts for just 2% of all cancers. It’s incurable. You can treat it, but it will always come back. That makes it terminal and, in my opinion, that also makes it bullshit.

They say life begins at forty, but here I am in my early forties wondering how long mine’s going to last.

I didn’t exactly win the lottery in terms of health; I was diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis at 30 and Cancer at 41. But I hit the jackpot in other ways, and the ways that count, I’m surrounded by great family and friends.

I have a supportive husband, an awesome young son and a dog who thinks I’ve put my life on hold to hang on the sofa with him as we work towards completing Netflix.

I try and put a brave face on, I try and make it OK, I try and joke about it, and sometimes that’s enough but the rest of the time, it’s a head-fuck.

The NHS has been absolutely brilliant with the physical side of things. In 7 months, I’ve had 17 chemotherapy treatments, 7 bone-strengthening drips, 3 biopsies, what feels like a billion blood tests, x-rays, MRIs... the list goes on.

But the emotional side of things is less straightforward. There’s no medicine or treatment regime which can help you come to terms with an incurable cancer diagnosis. That’s where the charity Ending Life’s Taboo comes in. Get your bank details ready.

Thankfully, because I’m considered young (at 42, I know right!), I was lucky to access counselling straight away from a small charity set up by a family who lost their loved one far too young and far too quickly.

Ending Life’s Taboo offers rapid counselling to 18-45-year-olds diagnosed with a life-limiting illness. I’ve had 22 sessions so far, all funded by the charity, and it’s been as valuable as all of the physical treatment I’ve received.

Having space to process the complicated emotions that come from such an uncertain future allows me and my family to try and put fears about dying to one side so we can focus on living, for as long as that might be.

My husband, who likes to think he knows a thing or two about charities, says Ending Life’s Taboo is making a big impact for such a small charity and I’d love to help them reach more people like me who need their support.

People are kind. Everyone says “let me know if there’s anything I can do” and I struggle to think of something, but this is it. You can help me make sure people get the emotional help they need to make sense of this bullshit.

Meanwhile, I’ll be on my holidays in Addenbrooke’s Hospital having high-dose chemotherapy and a stem cell transplant so we can kick Myeloma’s arse to the kerb for now and buy as much time as we can. Thank you x

*Update: 30th June 2023

ReMission Accomplished. I’m now 110 days post Stem Cell Transplant and have fitted in 2 months of consolidation chemo already so I’ll be going onto a maintenance chemo regime (daily tablets and a monthly drip) next week, pretty much 12 months on from diagnosis.

Ending Life’s Taboo have continued to massively help me through what’s been a pretty full-on time; regular counselling has enabled me to retain my sanity, keep going through some pretty dire times and bridge the gap between the ‘kingdom of the sick’ and the ‘kingdom of the well’.

And for now, we’re loving that we have the freedom to make plans for a fun summer and are assuming a general groove of hoping for the best.