Life – but not as you knew it: No way back!

One of the things that no one tells you when you’re first diagnosed with cancer is that you’ll never be the same (and if they told you, you probably wouldn’t believe them!).  Whatever the outcome of diagnosis and treatment, many people feel changed.  This can be a disorienting feeling – after all, we just want to get back to normal, don’t we?

In our latest blog, Jen shares her thoughts on some of the good  and bad  changes that she’s experienced since her diagnosis a year ago.  Here at Shine we don’t always push “positive thinking” because – let’s be frank – there’s A LOT about cancer that just isn’t positive.  However, as Jen points out, “there’s nothing like a life threatening illness to highlight what’s truly important in life”.  It’s a shame we don’t often get this insight without the life threatening illness, but it’s still worth remembering!


Jen Hart

If I had the choice of never having had cancer and returning to the life I was living before, I most definitely would. The rollercoaster of a cancer diagnosis and treatment is a long, bumpy, and terrifying ride. It’s also one that does not end where it started. To quote the title of this blog series: it’s your life, but not as you knew it!

As I slowly accept a new version of me within my strange new world I am starting to appreciate the positive changes that have come about due to my ride on the cancer rollercoaster. I may have new limits but I also have new priorities, new perspectives, and new hopes and dreams.

Following my diagnosis last October, I took a stoic approach, gritted my teeth and readied myself for six months (Ha ha! This was my first naive mistake!) of gruelling treatment. I was determined that I would get through whatever I needed to, be cured, and then return to my normal life. I would plod on with living as if cancer had never happened (this was naïve mistake number 2!).

Almost all of my family and friends shared my naïve view, and why wouldn’t they? Unless you’ve had experience to the contrary it is a perfectly sensible view to hold.   Many times throughout my treatment I was reassured by well-meaning friends and family that it would soon be over and I would get back to normal. The concept seems laughable to me now, but for at least the first few months of treatment the thought of returning to a “normal” life kept me going. I was fiercely determined not to be “changed” by cancer. I did not need a brush with my own mortality to be taught to appreciate life thank you very much!

It’s very difficult to accept change when it is forced upon you so brutally. Initially it was the superficial, physical changes that were my focus and I was determined to return to exactly how I looked “before”, as soon as possible. At times it felt as if my entire identity was encapsulated in the way I looked. I think the focus on these superficial things stems from the fact there is absolutely nothing you can do about the non-superficial things that have been changed. The scars from surgery, the damaged nerves and muscles from chemotherapy and radiotherapy, the terrible memory and disrupted thinking process – it has been hard to accept these things as part of my new life.

As time has passed, however, I’ve had to slowly learn the art of acceptance rather than try to return to ‘normal’. I will never look like I did before and I will never feel like I did before but, you know what? That’s OK. I may be the same person but my experiences have shifted my life onto a completely new trajectory.

There are, of course, the physical changes that I have to learn to live with. I must accept that I may never regain the same level of fitness and health I enjoyed before and that there may be permanent damage done by treatment. I am learning to let go of the anger and bitterness that I sometimes feel about that. It’s easy to say “well at least I’m alive” but at times it’s difficult to feel that. And then there is the threat of a recurrence that all cancer “survivors” must learn to live with. I need to learn to supress the reflex to break out in a cold sweat every time I have a nagging pain or feel a lump or bump. I am assured it gets easier with time and I’m sure it will.

Looking past these more negative aspects of my changed new reality there is, however, a much stronger and overriding positive change. There’s nothing like a life threatening illness to highlight what’s truly important in life. I have been shown the true value of relationships and witnessed the best of humanity in the love and support I’ve had showered upon me. Small acts of kindness have meant so much. I hope that in my new life I can always remember how these small gestures have impacted upon me and pay the kindness forward. I know more about myself now than I did a year ago and I have an appreciation for aspects of my personality that I perhaps didn’t previously value or recognise. I am aware of how quickly ‘good health’ can be whisked away and I find joy in simply being able to walk or run in the sunshine. I try to focus on what I am doing more and think about the future less. Living in the moment is such a cliché but, for me, it has been directly correlated with peace and happiness. In my new, post-cancer life I have found a deeper appreciation of how I can create my own happiness, and I fully intend to create as much as possible.

Returning to ‘normal’ is no longer my goal. My new normal is pretty damn good. There’s no going back. And that’s OK.

Jennifer has just finished her treatment for breast cancer. She lives in Dorset with her husband and two daughters – and, with two others, runs Shine New Forest!

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Life – but not as you knew it: Just the Two of Us

Having cancer is tough. Supporting someone with cancer can be just as difficult.  So what do you do when you’ve got to do both as a young adult?

In our latest blog, Charlotte shares her story of coping with cancer twice in four years: first, when her husband was diagnosed with Hodgkin lymphoma and then, a few years later, when she was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin lymphoma.  It’s a rare situation but it’s not unheard of – and across Shine we know a few couples who have had to deal with a cancer double hit.  Frank and honest, we’re sure you’ll be able to relate to Charlotte’s thoughts on the changes that cancer brings.

Please feel free to share on Facebook, Twitter or your blog!


Charlotte and Neil

“I love you”.

When you fall in love and share those three little words with someone, life is meant to be happy and full of dreams. But there are three other words that can change your life forever. Your dreams shatter into a million pieces and vanish beyond reach. Those three words are, of course, “You have cancer”.

Any young adult with cancer would wonder what they did to deserve a potentially deadly illness at a young age, and would worry about what the future holds. But when both you and your husband have to hear those words, the world comes crashing down and is never the same again.

This is what happened to my husband and me. Neil was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma in 2009 aged 29, and had a recurrence in 2010. I was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma in 2013, aged 32. Neil had 6 months of ABVD chemotherapy but then went on to have further chemo, a stem cell transplant and radiotherapy. I endured an intensive course of RCODAX/M-IVAC chemotherapy, a high-dose regimen.

When you take your vows, ‘in sickness and in health’, as we did in 2007, no one expects them to be tested to the limits until you are in your late seventies, if at all. The reality of what our relationship has become, with one another as well as other people, is a far cry from what it should be at our age. On the one hand I wouldn’t have wanted to share my cancer experience with anyone else. I feel blessed to have met someone who has stood with me through my darkest days. It is great that we truly understand how each other feels and that we can fully empathise about the effects of chemotherapy. We have shared the highs and lows, laughter and cancer jokes, and cried many, many tears. However, it is not what we wanted from our relationship. We had dreams of a family, a new house and successful careers – what every young couple wants for their future. But our lives are a far cry from this and we have been left feeling like we live in a bubble, looking in on people who are living our dream.

When we told friends and family about Neil’s diagnosis it was a shock to all of them. Some tried their best to offer support while others struggled with what to say and do. One of the hardest parts for me was that, as people rallied round Neil, no one asked how I felt. I tried my hardest to be the strong one, to look after Neil and to hold down my full-time teaching job. As Neil recovered from his treatment we were unsure how to express our feelings to other people and found it easier to not contact people at all. Everyone’s life was moving on and ours was stuck on pause. Then we were hit again; when I was diagnosed, it was Neil’s turn to juggle a job and to look after me.

Disbelief is the only word I can use to describe that day. Dealing with Neil’s cancer was hard enough but, with me, people were lost for words. They couldn’t find the right words to say so they often didn’t say anything at all. To the outside world that may have felt like the best strategy but being on the receiving end made me feel alone and isolated. Some friends stuck around to offer their support while others sailed off into the distance.

We have watched friends and family get married, have children, buy new houses and new cars, get new jobs, and go on holiday. We have tried our best to share these happy moments but they have always been tinged with sadness and a bit of jealousy. Due to the side effects of our diseases and treatments we have had to make adjustments to our jobs and career plans and we can’t afford the bigger family home we were hoping for. The biggest loss for us is children. Before my diagnosis Neil and I went through IVF but were unsuccessful. Five attempts later we had to walk away empty handed, emotionally and physically strained, and our pockets full of debt.

I survived my cancer diagnosis with Neil by my side and although cancer has changed the usual elements of our relationship it has bought us closer together. Neil was there every day to share a hug when there were no words to say. We have an unbreakable bond, we hold each others’ hands tightly and we are thankful that we have each other. Our relationship is one of love and trust. With our treatments finished, now is the time to bring back some fun and sparkle into our lives. Neil and I are in this journey for the long haul. We may not be able to have the same dreams as our friends but we can make new dreams that are meaningful to us.

Charlotte lives with her husband Neil and their dog Willow.  She hangs out with the Shine crew at Shine Dorset meet ups.