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REAL LIFE: CANCER FIGHTER; 'I Should Be Dead - I Even Planned My Own Funeral'

Posted on: Sunday, 10 April 2005, 06:00 CDT

'Iam supposed to be dead by now. Back in November 2003, aged 31, I was making arrangements for my own funeral and didn't expect to live to see Christmas. It's quite surreal when I look back - my brain must have blocked out the true horror of it - it's as though it happened to someone else. But it was all far too real at the time.

Just over a year earlier, I'd gone to the doctors with haemorrhoids. My GP referred me to a specialist who, because I was a new patient, did a routine examination. He concentrated on my stomach for a long time considering it was a haemorrhoid problem - he told me he could feel something that shouldn't be there, but he didn't know what it was. I needed an ultrasound immediately.

I didn't panic - I wasn't feeling ill, so surely it couldn't be anything too bad?

At the ultrasound scan, the nurse focused over and over on the same area before going off to find a consultant. By this time, I started to wonder what the hell was going on. My mum, who was with me, burst into tears, and the next 10 minutes, waiting, were agony. When the consultant finally arrived, he explained they'd found "abnormal masses" in my stomach and I needed a biopsy and a scan. I grilled him about what this meant and, although he was reluctant to say, he suspected it might be lymphoma. I didn't know what the hell that was and, as he wasn't a cancer specialist, he couldn't explain it very well.

My mum was beside herself and I felt emotionally wrung out. My head was spinning. I just didn't want to talk, but I knew I had to tell my boyfriend, Rick, 46, who I'd been with for 12 years. He was shocked and we stayed up all night, crying and clinging to each other.

I was signed off work and, two days later, I went for a check- up, which involved being injected with this weird dye and given a full body scan. It was scary, but I kept all my fear locked in - I wanted to be strong for my mum.

The results confirmed my worst fears - I had Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma, the cancer of white blood cells, which lodge in lymph nodes all over your body. Cancerous lymph nodes had obstructed my stomach, bowels and spine and were behind my lungs.

I felt a mixture of blind panic, sadness, fear and relief - at least I knew what the problem was. Once I talked to the doctors, it all started to make sense. I'd been feeling a bit breathless and very tired, which are symptoms - but you'd never associate that with having cancer, would you? I'd also put on a lot of weight, even though I'd been going to the gym a lot. It turns out my cancerous lymph glands weighed 5 kilos.

The doctors had no idea how long I'd had lymphoma, but it was an aggressive form that grows very fast. They insisted I was treated immediately, there was no time to waste. I really panicked - someone else was in control now. I needed six sessions of chemotherapy, one every three weeks. It was tough going, I suffered extreme fatigue and nausea and, after a week, I started losing my hair - it was even falling out into my dinner.

After the treatments, my tumours had reduced by 80%, but I needed another two sessions to finally get rid of them. Then I'd be back at work and getting on with my life. Or so I thought.

But the chemotherapy didn't work. The tumours were still there. I wasn't in remission like I'd assumed, and it was devastating. I had to have another scan and the results showed I needed a stem cell transplant and high dose chemotherapy - urgently. I had to go in to isolation as I'd be so vulnerable to infection. It was a nightmare.

After my stem cells were harvested and I started chemo, I spent 10 days in hell. It was the worst physical and emotional experience imaginable. My temperature was 39.9C and I've never known pain like it. My mouth was so full of ulcers I couldn't even swallow my own saliva. Even sipping water was agony.

A few weeks later, I was slowly starting to recover and I went home while I waited for the results of a scan to find out how successful the treatment was. I didn't know how I'd cope if it wasn't. The results looked promising - all my cancerous nodes had gone, except one, which had shrunk considerably. But weeks later, I started feeling breathless and was sent for respiratory tests - I had so little breath it didn't even register on the computer. I was put on oxygen and given a scan which showed that cancerous cells had filled up my lungs and lodged in my liver. It was a devastating shock. The lymphoma was advanced and I was told I'd be dead in a few months - I wouldn't see Christmas.

My parents, sisters and Rick were distraught. Everyone rallied around and we discussed treatment to extend my life. I went for a new combination of drug therapies to keep me going for a few months.

I wasn't afraid of dying - when it happens to you, you deal with it. You're less afraid than other people and you've got time to work it out in your head. I went home and focused my energy on planning the last days of my life.

I had so many visitors and, at first, the attention was nice, but after a while I didn't like it. A lot of the time I hid away. I couldn't deal with other people's grief and I didn't want sympathy, I just wanted to be normal.

I'm a born planner and threw myself into organising my will and going on one last family holiday, to Norfolk. I also talked to the vicar about my funeral. I decided on an environmental event, with a wicker casket and horse-drawn dray for a hearse. I'd be buried in a cemetery near home with a sapling tree on the grave, and a discreet plaque. I wanted it to kick off with the Welsh national anthem, and eulogies from my dad, sisters and two friends. My sister would read my favourite poem The Horses by Ted Hughes. There'd be a procession to the graveyard, and then I wanted everyone to go for a curry.

People were a bit shocked when I started planning the funeral, but when they could see me getting enthusiastic about it, they got involved. It helped them because they realised I wasn't afraid of dying.

I also threw a party to say goodbye to everyone. We hired a fab ballroom for the event, everyone got glammed up, and coaches brought friends from Wales, where I grew up, to London. But my health took a terrible turn, and I felt too awful to enjoy it, I had to lie down while people queued to see me to pay their last respects. I barely remember anything from that night. From then on, it was downhill. The end was near.

But then an extraordinary thing happened. I started to feel better. By Christmas Eve, I astounded everyone by announcing I wanted to taste Christmas dinner, and from that point I started eating a little bit more every day.

The next goal was my 32nd birthday in mid-January. I hadn't expected to be here, so the fact I went to a restaurant and celebrated with friends was great.

I was taking each day as it came, but I started to think my goodbye party had been a little premature. Each day, I continued to defy the doctor's expectations. I even started thinking about working again.

In May last year - five months after I thought I'd be dead - I went to hospital for a scan and was declared in remission. My consultant bleeped all my doctors who were amazed to see me standing there looking normal. There's no explanation for my recovery - it's nothing short of a miracle.

After 18 months of frightening times, I'm getting on with my life, and I'm back at work as a production manager. My attitude has changed - I jump out of bed in the morning and appreciate little things much more. People say everything happens for a reason and perhaps this had to happen for me to be happier. It was a hell of a thing to go through, but I've come out of it a much better person. My relationship is stronger, I love my job and I'm earning more money than ever.

The other day I was frustrated about something at work, until I thought, "Wow, I'm so glad to have problems like this." After all, no one's died...'

MARCH 2003

'I was at a friend's birthday after my first course of chemo. I was feeling well at the time, and didn't know I'd need more treatment'

BOXING DAY 2003

'With my nephew, Dylan. I was just starting to feel better and had eaten a small portion of Christmas dinner the day before'

JANUARY 2004

'My 32nd birthday. Doctors said I wouldn't be alive for this - but I was getting stronger every day, and celebrated with family'

JUNE 2004

'On holiday in Tuscany with my boyfriend, Rick. It was my first break after going into remission'

JULY 2004

'Life was back to normal and this was the photo taken by my company during my first week in my new job as a production manager'

THE FACTS ABOUT NON-HODGKIN'S

LYMPHOMA

l Unlike most cancers, lifestyle factors such as diet, smoking and sun exposure don't strongly affect the chances of developing non- Hodgkin's lymphoma.

l The true cause is unknown, but it

can be down to factors such as exposure to chemicals. People with HIV and those who've undergone organ transplants are at a higher risk.

l It's the fifth most common cancer

in the UK, and instances increased by 70% in the last 20 years. Each year, there are over 9,000 new cases in the UK.

l Symptoms can include persistent

itching, fever or sweating, painless swelling in the neck, armpit or groin, tiredness and poor appetite.

Source: Sunday Mirror; London

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