It has been a month since I last updated my blog. In the back of my mind I kept thinking that it was really time to write a new post, but I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to say and I couldn’t muster up the motivation to write anything. So I’ll just be honest: the past few weeks have been stomach gnawingly hard. Receiving a cancer diagnosis is pure horror. Actually battling your way through cancer treatment and coming to terms with what it all means for your body and your future, is unimaginably awful. In my first blog post I joked about being a hypochondriac… if I wasn’t one before, I surely am now! How can you ever really trust your body again when it does this to you at the age of 29?

I have spent a lot of time this month thinking about the chances of having a cancer recurrence. The possibility that I will beat this disease, only to have it come back again in 2 years, 5 years, 15 years time. The idea of dying so young – something of course that has always been a possibility – now sometimes seems inevitable to me. I am locked in a never-ending, silent, yet vicious argument with myself…

“I have an extremely aggressive cancer.”

“It is supposed to be very treatable.”

“The rate of recurrence is high with this type of cancer.”

“But the doctors don’t think it has spread to my lymph nodes.”

“Cancer can travel in other ways and to other places, and then I’m fucked…”

These thoughts are in my mind always. Circling like vultures and often withdrawing me from the world around me. Anyone who knows me will most likely be aware that I am prone to over-thinking and (as is often the case with over-thinkers) anxiety. It is something that I have worked on over the years, attempting to learn healthy coping mechanisms and retrain my brain to think positively. Anyone who has dealt with anxiety will know that such self-management is hard at the best of times. But when you are dealing with a cancer diagnosis and therefore a gruelling treatment plan, it can feel nearly impossible. You are in pain and you are exhausted. Each time you look at yourself in the mirror you look a little different. You look a little more sick. And making plans for the future can feel entirely pointless when you have been shaken to your very core by the reality that time has not been promised to you and that your hopes and dreams are by no means guaranteed.

As ever, I cannot begin to explain how lucky I am to be so well supported. My husband is the kindest, most loving person I have ever met, and he listens to my every fear with unbridled empathy. Crucially, he also provides me with the calmness and logic that I so desperately need right now. I have family and friends checking in with me every single day, and each message truly feels like a hand reaching out to me in the abyss. A jolt of electricity that snaps me out of the loneliness and despair that comes with this horrible disease. I am also seeing a therapist at my hospital’s ‘oncology wellness’ centre, and it has been most consoling to have a place to voice my darkest thoughts and fears. Anxiety caused by receiving a cancer diagnosis is nothing new. Neither is fear of recurrence. In fact, many cancer survivors are diagnosed with PTSD related to their diagnosis. It is a misconception to believe that cancer patients will be fine once they have completed their ‘active’ treatment. From what I’ve been told, many survivors actually find finishing treatment the biggest challenge of all.

In more positive news, we had a follow-up appointment with my oncologist last week. He could not have been more enthusiastic about how well my tumour has been responding to the chemo. In fact… I can categorically say that my oncologist is the only person to ever have fist bumped me after feeling my boob! He said that after 2 rounds of chemo, we might expect to see a softening of the tumour, yet in my case the tumour has almost disappeared. This definitely helps soothe some of my recurrence anxiety, as such a result increases the likelihood that the chemo might successfully kill any and all cancer cells in my body. This doesn’t mean I’m off the hook for surgery, but if I were to have a ‘pathological complete response’ to the chemo then it would definitely lower my risk of recurrence or of developing a secondary cancer.

On an unrelated note, we also had a pretty intense visit to the Emergency Room last Sunday, due to the fact that I woke up in the morning with a fever and shortness of breath. Such symptoms are not to be ignored when you’re going through chemo, as your immune system is in a compromised state. So after speaking with my oncologist, Bret and I decided it would be best that I go and get checked out. Upon entering the ER and informing the triage nurse that I was on chemo and had a fever, I was rushed through to a quarantined room where I experienced a pretty terrifying 20 mins. We’ve since learnt that until the ER Doctors know otherwise, they will treat for the worst case scenario, which in my case would have been sepsis. Bret and I were at the hospital all day, as there was much discussion about whether or not I needed to be admitted to the oncology ward, but I have to confess I was incredibly relieved when my oncologist said that that really wasn’t necessary, and I was able to go home. Here’s an arty picture of us in the quarantine zone…

This Wednesday I’ll be going in for my third chemo, which will officially take me to the half way mark! It’s an odd thing to be looking forward to, and I’m sure the day itself will be as gruelling as always, but after next week I feel I’ll be counting down instead of up! Due to the meds that were added to help with side effects, Chemo 2 was more manageable than round 1, so mentally that is a real win. I have no doubt that each round will be different, and will bring it’s own challenges, but every time I find a way to diminish even the mildest of side effects, it feels like a small victory! Sadly, I have been losing a lot of my hair, and I don’t know if it’s really at a sustainable rate. I have a fair few bald patches on the top of my head but luckily we live in LA… the land of hat-wearing hipsters! So for the time being, I’m just pretending that I am cool enough to pull off this fetching little number, and so far no one has laughed at me! At least not to my face!

With love,

Emma and Bret xxx

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