Bowel cancer at 32: Life, but not as you knew it

April is Bowel Cancer Awareness month, so in our latest blog post, we’re bringing you a blog by Cara, a Shine member who was diagnosed with bowel cancer shortly after she turned 32.  Currently undergoing treatment, Cara is passionate about raising awareness of bowel cancer and its symptoms, as well as sharing her experience of treatment. Please do share this blog with others and, as always, let us know what you think!


As April is bowel cancer awareness month I am asking this:

#Isitok that on average 2,500 young people in the UK are diagnosed with bowel cancer every year and that many of these individuals experience a delayed diagnosis? A delayed diagnosis that stems from a perception that in your 20s and 30s you’re too young to possibly have bowel cancer?

Cara 1

Guest blogger, Cara

I decided to write this blog post because that is exactly the situation I found myself in 14 months ago when I was diagnosed with stage 3 bowel cancer and I hope that by sharing my story I can raise awareness of the disease and make people stop and think. After all, nine out of 10 people survive bowel cancer if it is caught in the early stages and the key to this is early diagnosis. My advice is that if you have a concern and it’s not normal for you, don’t be embarrassed speak to your GP about it. We all know our own bodies and you know when something just isn’t quite right.

A little about me……

At 32 years old I found myself staring cancer in the face like an insurmountable challenge that I didn’t know if I was strong enough to tackle. It had taken 10 months to reach a diagnosis and when I speak to other people my age with bowel cancer I’m not alone in having been told we are just ‘too young to have cancer’.

My cancer story started when I decided to pay a visit to my GP because I was slightly concerned that there were some changes in my bowel habits and I was experiencing abdominal cramps. A routine blood test showed that I was anaemic and the GP made a referral. Looking back now the anaemia explained the tiredness I had been dismissing for months as something that just happens when you “turn 30” – something which now makes me chuckle as if reaching 30 puts you on some slippery slope to the realms of being an OAP!

Before I knew it, we were six months down the line with no answers as to why I was anaemic, and with the suggestion that the pain and anaemia were both down to period pain. During this time, I also had to deal with the death of my father. It was a difficult time, but as I dealt with my grief, my life began to get back to some sort of normal. I was going to the gym, going out with my friends and I even took part in a charity cycle from London to Paris with work.

However, as the weeks passed I found myself being unable to keep pace with my friends. Little did I know that my anaemia had slowly been getting worse and that lurking in my colon was a growing tumour. Just before Christmas, after a couple more visits and chats with the GP, I found out that my red blood count had fallen dangerously low and that my doctors were considering a blood transfusion. A test on a stool sample discovered blood that wasn’t visible to naked eye and I was quickly referred for a colonoscopy. That was when I knew I had cancer. I had seen this before when my father had been diagnosed. From that point my diagnosis happened very quickly but what I still couldn’t get my head around was why, with my family history of cancer, the faecal test wasn’t done at the beginning alongside everything else. It’s still something that I question today.

Since my diagnosis I have faced 14 months of endless hospital appointments, blood tests, seven hour days in the chemo unit, major surgery and blood clots, and while I would love to say I am at the stage of moving from cancer patient into the ‘life after cancer phase’, my post-chemotherapy scan showed lesions on my liver and the cycle has begun all over again. I am now undergoing a more aggressive chemotherapy which involves the joy of a ‘cold cap’ in a vain attempt to save my hair!

Another twist in my tale…..I have Lynch Syndrome…..

Lynch syndrome is the most common form of hereditary colon cancer and can increase the risk of developing colon cancer by up to 80%. Statistics make it as common as the BRCA mutation, but many people won’t have heard of it. Being in active treatment, I haven’t been able to fully address the impact that Lynch syndrome could have on my future, but I know that when the time comes it will have an impact on decisions about children and also that there will be decisions to make about having preventive procedures. While it would be very easy to think that knowledge of this mutation could have helped to detect my cancer earlier, I can’t change the past. I do believe though that knowledge is power and, that by ensuring I get right screening, I can minimise my risk of developing another cancer in the future.

What I have learned….

Dealing with a chronic disease forces you to develop a certain superhero strength…but that’s not to say that there aren’t difficult days or days where I feel so overwhelmed by it all that I don’t know how I going to make it through the next bit of treatment. Cancer will change me, but how is not yet fully clear. I’ve been told that I am so strong to be able to deal with everything that I am going through ………personally I don’t think I’m anything out of the ordinary. I think we all have superhero strength within all of us. It’s like the saying goes: ‘you don’t know how strong you can be until being strong is your only option’.

Cara works as a buyer in the womenswear department of a major UK retailer. She volunteers as a Cancer Research UK Campaigns Ambassador and claims to have an unhealthy addiction to travel literature and anything travel or adventure related! You can follower her on Twitter @Caraeliz24.

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

It’s Breast Cancer Awareness Month – meet Emma!

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month and, having shared the story of one of our Directors last month (for Blood Cancer Awareness Month), we thought we would share the story of Emma, our other founding Director this month. Diagnosed with breast cancer in 2006, Emma experienced the isolation that often comes with a cancer diagnosis and is all the more acute when you’re young. Way back in 2008, Emma started meeting up with other young adults with cancer and the roots of Shine took hold. Today, Emma runs Shine with Ceinwen and is Shine’s Director of Operations and Training. Read on to learn more about Emma and why Shine does what it does!

cein-emma-2

Emma (left), with Ceinwen at Shine’s 2016 Great Escape

When were you diagnosed and what with?

I was diagnosed with breast cancer in June 2006. I had two tumours and the cancer had spread to five of my lymph nodes. I also had unconfirmed spread into my breast bone and the lymph nodes in my chest so I’m still not 100% sure what stage my cancer is/was!

How did you find out you had cancer?

Early in 2006 someone drove their car into the back of mine while I was stopped at some traffic lights. I had whiplash and sprained ribs and was having physio. I found a lump in my breast that was next to one of my ribs so the GP thought it was a bleed caused by the accident but said he would refer me to the hospital anyway. When I finally got my letter from the hospital, the soonest they could see me was in 12 weeks time (this was before the two week wait was introduced in the NHS). While waiting for my physio appointment at a private hospital (I had BUPA through work), I noticed a sign for a specialist breast centre so I figured I’d get an appointment there as I had already paid my insurance excess! I was seen the following week and was sure that they were doing all of the tests to get more money from the insurance company!

I was so unconcerned about the follow up appointment that I went to receive the results on my own on the way home from work. The words from my doctor – “I’m really surprised but it is a little cancer” – will always stay in my mind. I remember thinking ”what’s a LITTLE cancer??”

What did you think and feel when you were diagnosed?

Because I had come in alone, the consultant suggested that I call my partner and come back in when he arrived. I was in shock. I can only remember certain phrases like “you’re so young that we’ll throw all of the possible treatment at you” and “normally we aim for five years survival but, with your age, we are going for 20”. I remember thinking that I would still be in my 40s after 20 years and that that wasn’t long enough.

Over the next few days, I went into planning mode to deal with work, friends, family and the huge number of hospital appointments that I suddenly had to fit in. Looking back, I coped by focusing on the practicalities such as finding pyjamas for hospital that buttoned up at the front (surprisingly difficult!).

How did the people around you react?

My partner and family were as shocked as I was. We had no family history of cancer and I hadn’t met anyone who had dealt with cancer at my age before. I really thought that it only happened to older people.

Everyone tried to help with practical arrangements but I avoided a lot of my colleagues and friends as I felt awkward dealing with their reactions. I lost count of the number of times I heard phrases like “but you’re too young for that” (I know!) and “my uncle’s brother’s wife’s sister had that – oh, she died” (thanks, that’s really helpful!).

emma-1

Emma during treatment

What treatment did you have?

I started with surgery to remove the original tumour but, when I went into surgery, they found another one. I had a lumpectomy rather that the mastectomy that would have been recommended if they’d known about the second tumour. I decided not to go back for the full mastectomy as my surgeon had got clear margins (it’s amazing how much jargon you learn!).

My oncologist then recommended a CT scan and a PET scan both of which showed up “dodgy bits” in my breastbone and the lymph nodes in my chest. At the time, I didn’t really understand the difference that made to my diagnosis but as the next lot of treatment would have been the same anyway, we went ahead with chemotherapy.

We also discussed the fact that I hadn’t had children and talked about options to preserve my fertility. My partner and I discussed it and decided not to take any of the options as they meant delaying chemo. I started my treatment with injections into my stomach to send me into a chemical menopause.

All together, I had 8 rounds of chemo, given every three weeks (FEC-T) and also started on infusions of Herceptin that went on for a year. I also had six weeks of daily radiotherapy to the remaining breast tissue and into my neck and I also started taking Tamoxifen tablets, (though I later switched to Exemestane). I stayed on the injections and tablets for 7 years in total. I used to say that I would rattle if I was shaken!

How did you feel through treatment?

The surgery wasn’t too bad as I was in a lovely, swanky private hospital with three course meals and a wine list! It was a bit scary having the anaesthetic though – and a bit weird coming round and finding myself halfway through a conversation that I couldn’t remember!

Going straight into menopause was also bit of a shock to the system. Overnight I developed massive hot flushes and sweats and felt like an old person when I tried to get up from the sofa.

The chemotherapy wasn’t as bad as I expected it to be but it did get worse as I went through all eight rounds. By the end of it, I had absolutely zero energy and felt like I’d been hit by a truck. My veins also decided to stop working so I agreed to have an operation to implant a portacath. This meant that the Herceptin could be given straight into a port under the skin in my chest which had a tube leading straight to my heart (sounds scary right but it definitely made life easier!).

My treatment went on for 7 years in total and I still take some tablets to deal with the after-effects of the treatment. After each type of treatment finished, I was worried about the cancer coming back as I felt like I was losing some protection they gave me. I still find the regular scans frightening though. I haven’t found a way to remove that ‘scanxiety’ completely but it is much easier with my Shine family around me.

Throughout treatment I thought that, once I was done with the main treatments, that my life would go back to normal. That never happened and when the hospital visits slowed down and treatments came to an end, I felt as if I had been abandoned to work out what came next. I felt like I was living in a ‘should be’ era – I should be feeling amazing that I’d come this far, I should be able to pick up my life from where it left off…. I am naturally a very positive person and I didn’t initially recognise that the feelings that I was having were of isolation, anxiety and depression.

It took nearly three years for me to admit that I was still struggling and to take steps to get help. It is not an understatement to say that my amazing counsellor, Kathy, changed my life completely. With her, I was finally able to sort through the mess of everything that I thought I ‘should be’ feeling and to talk through the experiences I’d had through treatment and beyond. At first I couldn’t understand how talking about it would help but it enabled me to face the anxieties I had been holding on to and to feel more empowered about my future, whatever that holds.

Tell us about your work with Shine

Throughout treatment, the “you’re too young” comments kept coming and the support groups that I attended were full of people showing me photos of their grandchildren! Eventually, I met the amazing Justine through a random breast cancer chat room. She was just a few years older than me and had also been through treatment for breast cancer. We met for coffee which ended up lasting four hours and I suddenly realised just how isolated I had been.

emma-2

Emma and Justine at the first Shine party in 2008

That meeting led us to start Shine (although we didn’t have a name!) and we decided that we should reach out to other younger adults with all types of cancers. In the first year we connected with over 100 people in Dorset and it felt amazing to make sure that other people didn’t feel as isolated as we both had. We had fun too, doing things that suited us (mainly bars and coffees!) rather than the standard cancer support group format. And thus, Shine was born….

Meeting Ceinwen in 2010 was the next brilliant coincidence. Ceinwen had been diagnosed with cancer shortly after having a baby (you can read her story here) and was looking to do something similar to Shine in London. We met for coffee, which again lasted 4 hours (be careful if we ever have coffee together!), and we realised that we had a lot of similar ideas about the lack of support that was available to younger adults diagnosed with cancer. Together we started work on the ‘Small c’ Project, the first research project in the UK to look at the needs of young adults with cancer. We then went on to develop a programme of activities and events that aim to meet those needs.

emma-3

Emma and Ceinwen with Shine Trustees Laura and Christopher

We also started setting up Shine Networks in other parts of the UK, giving people the chance to meet others in similar situations much more quickly that we had been able to.

The feedback and stories we heard from the people that Shine supported in the early days quickly made my career (banking – sorry!) seem much less important and certainly less rewarding. I eventually left my career in 2012 to fully focus on Shine. I have never regretted any part of that (despite the massive impact on my bank balance!) and absolutely love my job, even on a Monday morning – and at 2am on a Sunday as it’s not really a 9-5!

Nowadays, we are both still working hard to reach the 30,000 young adults diagnosed with cancer each year in the UK and to develop more programmes to fill the gaps in support that still exist for young people dealing with cancer.

What difference has Shine made to you?

Personally, I now have a huge network of people around me that just “get it”. I can talk to people about things I wouldn’t put on my “normal” friends. I also have people that also get the dark humour and the fact that you’re definitely not being ‘negative’ by talking about your funeral music or not planning too much for the future!

I love to feel like what we do makes a difference to peoples lives, and I still sometimes can’t believe what we have achieved in just a few years (mainly because I’m always thinking about the things that we need to do in the future!). In short, Shine has definitely changed my life for the better!

How do you feel now about your experiences? What‘s been the biggest change you’ve faced?

I’ve just passed my ten-year ‘cancerversary’, but the fear of my cancer returning is still there. Certain things still trigger the trauma of some of my experiences through treatment and I don’t think that will ever go completely. However, I am much more able to deal with the scary bits now and, of course, know amazing people who help and support me.

I don’t feel grateful for having cancer. Instead, I feel grateful that I have been able to channel my experiences into something that helps other people and also brings me personal joy and fun. I try not to stress over the small stuff and I honestly appreciate much more about the wonderful people that surround me.

emma-4

Emma in 2016!

If you could give one piece of advice to yourself before your diagnosis what would it be?

This is hard! I felt invincible before I was diagnosed with cancer and I think most people in their 20s (or 30s or 40s!) feel the same way unless they have personally experienced something really scary. I’m not sure I would have taken my own advice anyway but it would probably be to appreciate the people around you and the things in life that actually matter – and to make sure that you are living the life that you want, not the one that is expected of you.

More information about Shine’s impact and our history, staff and Trustees can be found on our website here. If you’d like to get in touch, please drop us a line at hi@shinecancersupport.org. 

It’s Lymphoma Awareness Month – Meet Ceinwen!

September is Blood Cancer Awareness Month so we thought this was a great time to share the story of one of our founding Directors, Ceinwen.

ceinwen-emma

Ceinwen (right) with Emma at Shine’s 2016 Great Escape

Diagnosed with Stage 4b diffuse large-b cell lymphoma in 2010, Ceinwen now runs Shine with Emma (look out for her profile soon for #BreastCancerAwarenessMonth) and heads up our fundraising activities, as well as designing our national programmes with Emma, our other Trustees and our amazing volunteers. Having been through cancer, its treatment and its aftermath, Ceinwen’s insight and experience is key to what we do at Shine and helps to ensure that all of our activities meet the needs of young adults with cancer. Read on and please share with others!

When were you diagnosed and what with?

I was diagnosed with Stage 4b diffuse large b-cell lymphoma in February 2010.

How did you find out you had cancer?

At the end of December 2009, I was pregnant. I became really unwell and had my daughter prematurely. The doctors thought that I was experiencing complications from the birth so I don’t think they took things too seriously at first. About three weeks later, I developed such excruciating back pain that I ended up calling an ambulance and going to the hospital. They gave me antibiotics but when I didn’t feel any better the next day, I went back. I then spent three and a half weeks in the hospital seeing all kinds of doctors who were trying to figure out what was wrong with me. Tuberculosis was looking like a good candidate for a while and I remember thinking “that doesn’t sound so bad” but after a chest x-ray they realised I had a large mass in my mediastinum (a part of the body I’d never heard of before!). They also discovered I had “lesions” on my liver – at the time, I also didn’t realise how bad that sounded. Eventually, someone got a haematologist to look at me and he put all the symptoms together. I’d had night sweats, fevers, loss of appetite and unbelievable fatigue – all typical symptoms – but no one had realised I had lymphoma.

What did you think and feel when you were diagnosed?

I had barely heard of lymphoma when I was told I had it. I knew nothing about cancer and was obviously worried I was going to die. I

thumb_img_2363_1024

Ceinwen & her daughter today

was devastated and worried I wouldn’t get to see my daughter grow up. And then pretty quickly I went numb. I generally managed to hold it together during the day but spent a lot of nights panicking and crying. I was also told that I would have to stay in the hospital for six months receiving chemo and I remember wondering how my husband and I were going to manage work and a baby and cancer all at the same time.

How did the people around you react?

I think they were as shocked as I was by the diagnosis. I had never heard of anyone having cancer and a baby at the same time and neither had my friends or family. I remember thinking “Cancer and pregnancy is a thing?”. For the most part though, they rallied around. I had family and friends come to stay and look after my daughter and help my husband out. I was never short of visitors! If there’s one thing cancer taught me, it is how much I am loved. Whenever I have a bad day now I try to remember that.

What treatment did you have?

I was put on a clinical trial testing a high-dose chemotherapy regimen called R-CODOX-M/IVAC-R. I had a Hickman line and two of the rounds had 15 days of chemo followed by a recovery period, while the other two rounds were 7 days of chemo followed by a recovery period. Part of the treatment is having “IT chemo”. I remember seeing that on my treatment sheet and not knowing what it was. It turns out it is chemo injected into your spine. I was horrified! For me, that was the worst part of the treatment. I had to have it done 8 times and I’d already had a few lumbar punctures and a bone marrow biopsy by then, so by the time I finished treatment I never wanted anyone to go near my spine or back ever again!

How did you feel through treatment?

I know for a lot of people chemo makes them feel terrible, but I was so ill when I started that the treatment made me feel better. I’d been so weak that once the chemo kicked in and started to push back the cancer I felt totally different. I had a period of time where I went days without brushing my teeth or getting out of bed. To be able to get up and take a shower felt like a miracle.

What happened after treatment finished?

thumb_img_2919_1024

Monthly immunoglobulin infusion done at the hospital

For about a year after treatment, I focused on getting my fitness back. Spending six months in bed is terrible for you and I found it hard to walk for long periods because my feet and back ached. Just as I was getting back into running, I caught meningitis. I ended up back in the hospital for a month and it was then that the doctors discovered that my immune system had really taken a hit as a result of one of the drugs I’d had. My body basically doesn’t produce b-cells properly anymore so I need monthly immunoglobulin replacement therapy to prevent me from getting any more infections. Immunoglobulins are super expensive so I like to think of myself as a million dollar woman.

Tell us about your work with Shine

Shine is my and Emma’s baby! Both of us were diagnosed with cancer as young adults and we both found there was a real lack of support out there. If you aren’t a child or teenager, you get lumped in with elderly patients who may be lovely, but they don’t get what you’re going through. I remember mentioning to some people that I volunteered with how I was missing loads of work because my appointments took all day and they said “Oh, I just pack a lunch and make a day of it”. We had very different perspectives!

I met Emma at the end of 2010 and found out she had started a support group in Dorset called Shine. I’d wanted to do the same thing in London so we decided to work together. Since then, we’ve grown Shine into something bigger than we ever imagined six years ago. Our first workshop in April 2012 had about 20 people at it. Last year, our Shine Connect conference had 100. It’s been amazing to see how many people we’ve been able to reach and support. I always thought that I wouldn’t want anyone else to feel as alone as I did when I was diagnosed. I hope with Shine we’re helping to make that happen.

What difference has Shine made to you?

Apart from loving my job, Shine has also given me friends and support that I didn’t have back in 2010. I still get regular check ups, and aches and pains still freak me out. It’s good to have people I can call up to share my worries with – people who totally get it because they’ve been there. I frequently diagnose myself with other forms of cancer – cancer of the toe, cancer of the eyebrow, etc. etc. – and it’s really good to have friends who understand exactly why I’d be concerned that the bruise on my foot is cancer (and to explain why it’s probably not)

thumb_img_1219_1024

Ceinwen with some of Shine’s peer supporters at the 2016 Great Escape

How do you feel now about your experiences? What‘s been the biggest change you’ve faced?

I think it can be hard to feel positive about something so awful, particularly something that changes your life so fundamentally. All of the things I thought I would have in terms of family and career changed when I was diagnosed. I was working in international development when I got sick and I remember my doctor saying that the sort of travel I used to do wasn’t an option, at least in the short term.

thumb_img_3978_1024

Ceinwen working in Kathmandu, Nepal while pregnant – shortly before getting ill.

You can’t ever go back to who you were before, as much as you might like to. Some days, that really sucks. Having said that, I’m in a good place now! I absolutely love all the work we do at Shine and have a lot of fun. I’ve laughed more in the last six years than I did in the six years before that. Having a few life threatening illnesses does give you a different perspective on things!

If you could give one piece of advice to yourself before your diagnosis what would it be?

I remember being really annoyed that I’d managed to get so ill because I thought I was taking care of myself – I was a vegetarian and exercised a lot. Obviously I got sick anyway, so I’d probably tell myself to eat more cake.

You can read more personal profiles from Shine’s community here. Shine also has an private online community that we run via Facebook. To join, send us a request and then send a message to us through our main Facebook page. 

breast cancer

Life – but not as you knew it: Living the dream

In September 2017, a group of intrepid climbers will make their way up Tanzania’s Mount Kilimanjaro while raising money for Shine. One of those making the journey is Rosie Hellawell, a member of Shine’s Dorset Network. Rosie currently blogging her way through cancer treatment (and the alphabet) and we’re delighted she’s written a blog for us about how she’s working to realise her dream of climbing the world’s tallest free-standing mountain once she’s finished treatment.  Take a read, share, and let us know what you think. And if you’d like to donate to Rosie’s trip, please check out her fundraising page here.

rainbowwig

Guest blogger Rosie Hellawell

DREAMS: Transforming Desires to Reality Everyday through Aspiration, Motivation and scary Statistics!

Desires

Since receiving my breast cancer diagnoses in June of this year I wouldn’t say that my long term desires have massively changed. I would still like to complete my degree, find a nice guy, travel the world, buy a house….that kind of thing. Nothing too out of the ordinary. I am hoping that cancer is just a little blip in obtaining those goals and that it is actually teaching me a lot and opening up new experiences that will be useful in the future.

Reality

However, I cannot escape the reality that my mortality has massively been called into question. For the first time I feel first-hand how precious life is and how quickly it can be taken away. I see members of support groups that I am part of, incl

donkey

NED: No Evidence of Disease

uding Shine, being taken too early on an all too regular basis. So, in the spirit of coping with reality, I must now add ‘living for a reasonable amount of time’ to my list of desires. Unfortunately, as we all know there is no cure for cancer but to become a ‘Neddy’ (to have ‘no evidence of disease’) is now also up there with the best of the rest of my desires.

Everyday

There is no getting past it: living with cancer on a daily basis is no walk in the park. But having the support of others in my age range who are dealing with similar situations to me has proven invaluable.

A lot of control is taken away by this hideous disease but I choose to retain what control I do have by taking actions towards my future. This has been anything from getting involved with different support groups, trying new sports, fundraising, blogging and becoming an ambassador for awareness charities. But on a particularly overwhelming day it can mean simply writing a meal plan and a shopping list. I find everything is easier when broken down into smaller chunks. By doing that shopping and cooking that meal and freezing up portions for future rubbish days, I am once again back in the driving seat.

Aspiration

Aspiration is defined as ‘a hope of achieving something’ or finding the inner strength to achieve. As a wise man once said, (well actually it was Dave Pickles in his webinar last week!):

horse

Yes, I have just stolen his quote but it makes perfect sense! This picture speaks a thousand words to me. I refuse to let worries of failing hold me back. If I don’t try, I will never know what I am capable of and the last thing I want to do is look back at all the things that could have been if only I hadn’t let fear get the better of me. I would much rather look back at all the amazing things that I did manage to achieve.

The opportunity to climb Mount Kilimanjaro for Shine Cancer Support has come at the perfect time for me and has given me a focus to get me through my treatment and out beyond the other side. Not only will the trek itself be a huge physical and mental challenge, the fundraising and training will include targets to be met along the way. This will help with my recovery and will give me back some more of that lost sense of purpose and control.fb_img_1472033674460

Motivation

A cancer diagnoses is a pretty big motivation tool to get me off my backside and out of my comfort zone, saying ‘yes’ and taking on all the new and exciting opportunities that come my way. The fact that I can raise money for such an awesome charity at the same time is just the icing on the cake. It means that young people diagnosed with cancer in their 20’s, 30’s and 40’s will also be able to feel the full force of fellowship and shared experiences.

Statistics

Scary statistics do definitely help to motivate me. My current ‘favourite’ is that I have 43% chance of not being here in 5 years’ time. I discovered this at 3am one morning when Googling (never a good idea when experiencing steroid-induced insomnia). While I realise that some stats should be taken with a pinch of salt and that, compared to some people, I should be grateful for this figure, the stats also serve the purpose of reminding me that life is precious and none of us know how long we have left. Life can all too often be too short, so I for one am going to go out there and grab every opportunity that comes my way…. what better way to start than up the very aptly named Shiny ‘Mountain of Light’?!

Rosie is a mature social work student who lives in Bournemouth. She was diagnosed with breast cancer in June 2016 and is currently undergoing treatment.

Rosie regularly blogs about her life with cancer here and her fundraising page for the Kilimanjaro trek next year can be found here.

Bowel cancer and talking sh*t!

“So, you’re fine now, right?”

Ah, the question that often gets asked when you tell people your cancer woes! And the thing is, it’s usually asked with the best of intentions. Your friends and acquaintances want you to be fine – but ‘fine’ can mean very different things once your body has been through cancer treatment.

In our latest blog, we are literally talking sh*t!  Our writer, Pippa, shares her experiences of a bowel cancer diagnosis and treatment in her early 30s and explains what the ‘new normal’ can feel like once your insides have been through the wringer. Having trouble explaining to people what your life is like now? Please feel free to share with others and, as always, let us know what you think.


Pippa3

Pippa, during treatment

We live in a country where people are embarrassed to talk about their bodily functions, particularly their bowel movements. We rarely talk about them with our friends and family (you know you have a close friend if you do!) and we especially don’t like to talk about them with strangers, even doctors. This inability to talk about bowel movements is undoubtedly putting lives at risk and it almost cost me my life.

Bowel cancer is the third most common cancer in both women and men in the UK, and the second most common cause of cancer death in the UK, after lung cancer. Like many cancers, bowel cancer is more common in older people and screening is offered for those who are 60 or older. However, there are quite a few of us who are considerably younger who have been diagnosed with bowel cancer. As screening is only available to those who are older (and even then, it isn’t 100% reliable) you need to be aware of the symptoms of bowel cancer and talk to someone, like your GP, if you are experiencing them.

Before I was diagnosed, I experienced both a change in bowel habits and blood in my stools. These symptoms coincided with starting a new job and I put them down to stress. I was also embarrassed and didn’t want to talk to my doctor about it. I finally went to my GP fifteen months later. What finally convinced me to go? Confiding in my mum and one of my sisters. They were adamant I went to the doctor and it was actually much easier than I thought it would be to speak to my GP about poo! She referred me immediately for a colonoscopy, which is how my bowel cancer was discovered.

When you’re diagnosed with bowel cancer your life will forever revolve around poo, a subject that no-one wants to discuss! During treatment your bowels take a battering and a lot of people have a stoma (temporary or permanent) which brings its own poo challenges. I never imagined my life would involve waking up in the middle of the night and feeling a warm liquid all over my abdomen -and that liquid turning out to be poo from a stoma bag leak. Equally memorable was the occasion, soon after my operation, when I didn’t have a firm enough grip on my stoma bag as I was trying to empty it. Instead of emptying a very liquid poo into the toilet, it went all over the seat, my clothes and the floor – in fact, it went everywhere other than the toilet bowl. Happy times!

Being diagnosed with bowel cancer means you very quickly have to get over any qualms you might have had about talking about poo. Not only do you get used to crowds of people looking at or up your backside, but every appointment with consultants involves discussing your bowel movements.

Even once treatment is over, people rarely return to “normal” bowel function. The consultants like to refer to the period post-treatment as “getting used to your new normal”. For a lot of people, the final part of their treatment is having a temporary stoma reversed, which is when the bowel is reconnected for the first time post-treatment. A section of bowel will have been removed and the bowel that remains will have been affected by other treatments like chemo and radiotherapy. As a result, the speed at which poo moves through your bowel, as well as your bowel’s reaction to food and environmental stresses, will have changed. It is not uncommon post-surgery to spend a considerable amount of time on the toilet. Not only do you poo a lot, but it can also take a considerable time to fully empty your bowels. Challenges include feeling like you need to do a poo but not being able to, going to the loo, cleaning yourself up and then immediately needing to go again (referred to as clustering). No one understands the pure joy of passing a single normal poo until you have had bowel cancer!

Pippa1

A post-treatment Pippa

These challenges are all a pain when you’re at home but they present even greater challenges when you’re out of the house. Prior to being diagnosed with cancer I tried to never do a poo outside of my own bathroom at home. Post-cancer, that is impossible. In the early stages post-treatment I didn’t like to be far from a toilet because if I needed to go, I had a very short period of time in which I could hold onto my bowel. Please don’t judge if you see a person who looks “perfectly normal” rushing into a disabled toilet. There are a number of medical conditions that mean that people need urgent access to a toilet and until you have experienced incontinence you can’t fully understand how embarrassing and horrible that is. If all other toilets are busy, the disabled toilets can be your only option to avoid an accident. Disabled toilets also provide more space to move around. When you have a stoma, you need that additional room to be able to empty your bag or to replace the bag if you’re unlucky enough to have a bag leak while you are out and about.

It can be very isolating to deal with the after effects of bowel cancer and the treatments. Thanks to Shine I have met a number of fellow “Bowelies” with whom I can have frank chats about poo and all of the other shit that comes with bowel cancer!

I am really passionate about educating people about the symptoms of bowel cancer and getting them talking about their bowel habits more. People can literally die from embarrassment and that’s not right.

Pippa Woodward-Smith is 34 and lives in Southampton. You can meet others like Pippa at our upcoming Shine Connect conference on 23rd April in London.

 

 

10 ways to help a friend coping with cancer

We often post articles on Twitter and Facebook about what to say to a friend or family member who has cancer, or how you might help them. We’ve also noticed that these often get a huge number of hits! That got us wondering how the members of our growing Shine community have been helped by family and friends when they’ve been ill – so we asked them! We got some great responses and we’ve summarised them below. Have a friend in need? Take a look below and see if we can inspire you!


Message1. Let them know you’re thinking of them

“One of my friends sent me a card every week that I was in the hospital – and I was in there for a long time.  It was so nice to receive a surprise in the mail and to hear all her news.  I’m not sure she knows how much it meant to me but I’ve kept all the cards as a reminder of what a great friend she is”.

When you’re ill, sometimes just knowing that you’re still part of the land of the living is all you need. A text, a card, a phone call – no matter how brief – can make a huge difference to someone who hasn’t been out and about much, especially if you’re clear that you don’t expect a reply.  Being ill can be very lonely so knowing that your friends and family are still thinking of you can make a huge difference.

2. Cook

“A friend bought 12 homemade freezer meals at two separate points during chemo. Even though I didn’t feel like eating most of the time at least I knew there was something quick, easy and on hand for my husband and daughter. I was very touched at her kindness and effort”.

If you’re a whizz icookn the kitchen, there’s nothing quite like a homemade meal to perk up someone who isn’t feeling great. And even if they don’t feel like eating because treatment has done a number on their appetite, you might be easing their stress by making sure other members of their family have something quick and easy to eat when the hunger pangs hit.

3. Clean

cleaningNot big on cooking? How about cleaning? A lot of our Shine members mentioned that they’d had friends who had popped in to clean the bathroom and kitchen, or put fresh sheets on the bed (and do the laundry) while they flaked out in front of the tv.  There’s nothing quite like clean sheets and a nice fresh towel – and it doesn’t take very long either!

4. Hang out

“For me, I was happy just to have people to keep me company. I think as a young lad people don’t know what to say and some people found it easier to avoid me.  I was happiest when people just came round and played computer games or chatted, especially when I couldn’t do much else beyond letting them in!”

super-1138462_1920Your mate may not be up for a heavy night down the pub, but heading over to his or hers with a movie, a computer game or even a pack of cards can really boost someone’s spirits. Something that doesn’t require a lot of mental or physical energy – like hanging on the sofa – but keeps them involved in the world around them is often really appreciated.

 

 

5. Get them out and about

“I went to Glastonbury festival after my treatment and all my friends had to take it in turn to carry all my belongings and helping me hobble around. I felt guilty about ruining their fun, but in reality I genuinely felt they were happy to have me there.  This reassurance was enough for me.”

We get it – being around really sick people can be scary. But helping a friend by taking them out, even if they’re going to need extra support, can help them feel like they’re still participating in all the things that they should be doing.  Keep in mind that they might not be able to walk long distances or stay out late, but if you can pick them up and drive them to a restaurant, or help them carry their stuff without making them feel bad, you’re more than half way to making their day!

6. Entertain the kids

playground-691129_1280

Let’s face it, kids can be exhausting at the best of times. If your friend has little ones, why not take them out for an afternoon or come over and cook them dinner while your friend has a nap? If they’re old enough, an afternoon movie or a trip to the park could give your friend a much needed break.  Or invite your friend and the kids over. You entertain them while your friend chills out with a cup of tea!

7. Head to the hospital

Something that everyone with cancer knows is that it’s time consuming – and hospital appointments can take ages.  If your friend is spending more time with the nurses and doctors than his/her mates, why not offer to keep them company? Ask if they’d like someone to take them to the hospital, pick them up, or hang out in between.  Having someone to gossip to can be a great distraction from the blood tests, scans and doctor chats.

8. Walk their dog

12376834_10156672952605263_2785600398398241687_nDoes your friend have a pooch? Why not ask if you can help walk the dog a few times a week? If your friend is happy for you to do it, see if you can get a few other friends together and organise a walking roster. On a good day, your friend might just want company for the walk. On a bad day they’ll be glad to have someone do the walking (and poo scooping!).

9. Organise a treat

“One of the most helpful things was planning something nice for my husband and I to do or go for a treat on the week before my next chemo. These did not cost much or sometimes nothing at all but it was something to focus on in the rotten days”.

“My friends always organised a get together on “chemo eve”, which was lovely.”

Cancer can be expensive! Not only are you missing work, but you’re spending your money heading to and from the hospital, on parking charges, and on extra blankets and heating to keep you warm. If you’re looking for a simple way to cheer someone up, why not plan a night out to the cinema or a comedy show? Book tickets when you know they’re free and either take them yourself or organise for others to go with them. (One minor note of caution: if you can, check if there’s cancer in the movie at all. You’d be surprised how many people in movies die of cancer. It’s not what you need when you’re going through treatment!).

10. Help them celebrate

easter-eggs-lst035137.jpg-pwrt3

Having the energy for Christmas, Easter or a birthday can be tough when you’re coping with a cancer diagnosis.  Does your friend need help buying a tree or getting the decorations out? It can be hard for people to know what they need but asking specifically how their planning for a holiday is coming can open up whole new possibilities for help! Buy the Easter eggs, plan the hunt, decorate the tree, light the candles, buy the cake….the options are practically endless.

Got more ideas? What have we missed? Let us know! Comment below or Tweet us @shinecancersupp

 

 

A Shiny, Cloudy Escape

The Great Escape is Shine’s flagship weekend for young adults with cancer. Every January we gather 22 people at the Grove Hotel in Bournemouth for a weekend of hanging out, information, walks – and usually some karaoke.  This year’s Escape (our third!) was just as fabulous as our earlier two and we’re grateful to Robin Taylor who has written a blog about his experiences at the event. We’ll open registration for our 2017 Escape in October but you can learn more about it on our website, including videos from our previous weekends.


 

A Shiny Cloudy Escape

Photo - Robin Taylor

Our blogger and 2016 Escapee, Robin

Just before Christmas 2014, I was diagnosed with Burkitt lymphoma, a form of blood cancer mostly seen in children and adolescents. I am 34 and was previously pretty healthy. I have since been through a rollercoaster ride of treatment and recovery and 12 months on I’m finally settling back into a routine. I joined Shine Cancer Support to meet people of my own age who have been through similar experiences and decided to apply for the Great Escape because it seemed like a great opportunity to network and meet others outside my usual social group.

The ‘Journey’

I arrived at the Grove Hotel just before the Escape officially started. I’m naturally a little shy and it usually takes me a few moments to adjust to a new group. A group of people were leaving to get lunch and it suddenly dawned on me that, as I hadn’t been to a Shine event before, I might be the only person to not know anyone. However, I was greeted with a friendly smile by Laura, who signed me in and pointed me in the direction of my room. I dropped off my bags and decided to find the lay of the land. As I walked down the corridor, I met another “Escapee” who said that she didn’t know anyone either so we decided to find coffee.

Robin

Robin during treatment

I soon realised that most people had met for the first time that day and that I was less of an outsider than I had first thought. As we sat down for coffee, we were handed bags with name badges and some notepads, leaflets and goodies including chocolate. There were now a few of us sat chatting in the warm conservatory looking out onto the garden. A few minutes in, Emma bounced into the room and introduced herself, welcoming each with a hug. I think she spotted my British awkwardness and apologised saying “sorry, but that’s how I roll; you’ll get used to me,” I had been in the building for about fifteen minutes and already felt like part of the team. Emma was followed by Ceinwen who identified with me as a “chemo buddy” as we’d had the same treatment.

Breaking Ice

After coffee, we headed to the main meeting room. Emma and Ceinwen (whom Emma helpfully introduced as ‘Kine-When’) quickly built a great rapport and the presentation was informal and engaging. They talked through the schedule, some ground rules and explained that the weekend might be emotional. We were also introduced to the support staff including a (very much in demand) psychologist and an on call nurse. In talking to the ‘peer supporters’ (young adults who have had cancer and have been on previous Escapes) throughout the weekend, it was clear that they were all easy to talk to and had a wealth of knowledge to offer. The activities for the first day were designed to help us get to know each other. At dinner-time, the tables were chosen for us at random which worked really well as we all quickly met and, by the end of the second day, everyone knew each other.

I surprised myself at how quickly I had settled in – within 24 hours, strangers had become friends. By the end of the day inappropriate jokes and cancer-related anecdotes capped a raucous evening

Day 2 – Calm before the storm

Yoga (which was optional), a first for me, kick started my morning. As a runner, I could see the value of the stretches and the relaxation techniques. The session was designed to cater for all abilities and I could feel the benefit at breakfast.

The day started with a myth-busting discussion – it was interesting to see that I was not alone in my ‘common knowledge’ and ‘tabloid fact’ scepticism. We were introduced to some useful online resources with which we could help inform our opinions.

The afternoon was a fairly intense discussion about the emotional strain that a diagnosis can have on us. There were some really emotive discussions around how we managed our personal feelings and those around us who were also affected. Listening to some of the conversations found me holding back tears on a number of occasions.

We went out for dinner which was held at a fine high street pizza establishment – a welcome break from the walls of the hotel and good to catch up with people in a neutral environment.

Day 3 – A Sea Change

After my second yoga experience, we quickly settled into a discussion around relationships. We talked about how we communicated with friends, family and partners. On top of our varying diagnoses and prognoses, our family lives were just as varied but sharing the host of struggles that we could all identify with was a liberating experience.

The lads in the group were in the minority, but I had a number of really engaging, open and frank conversations. It seems that we all had handled ourselves in a very similar way and talking through our coping strategies was both cathartic and enlightening.

After lunch we broke into separate groups, and I was glad to see that I was not the only bloke in the fertility discussion. Though outnumbered, I felt comfortable talking about this difficult subject in front of the group, and the discussion was well guided by a highly experienced specialist nurse. As one of my fellow male companions said later “we learned a lot about how… er it works” (followed by a huge laugh from the group)

Apart from a few optional activities, there was a fairly generous break before dinner so I decided to go and hide. I didn’t even get round to switching the TV on or pick up my book as planned before the emotions started pouring out of me. To help me get through the next few hours, I decided to write a poem:

A bottle

There’s a bottle within which all my tears go.
Emotion comes, I take one, stopper the jar, then stem the flow. 

It’s difficult to know where and when or why they come.
The swelling fear, the hide and run.

Feelings don’t frighten me, I know they’re there.
I’ve just learned to close them down.
I don’t reflect, I look forward.
I don’t regret, I learn.
I’m trying to live,
to work,
to achieve.

My experiences don’t define me.
I learn from my experiences and define myself around them.
I’m still learning.

I’m trying to live,
to work,
to love.

I’m realizing…
that soon,
if I don’t let them out,
the bottle might explode.

thumb_IMG_1193_1024

Karaoke superstars

Before I knew it, it was time to head back for dinner which was followed by a pretty intense evening of karaoke. Audience participation was at a record breaking high, and some unexpected superstars arose from behind the curtain.

Hike and home

The event of the final day was the ‘Hengistbury Hike.’ We started with a talk from a fitness instructor whose specialism is working with cancer patients. As with all the speakers and contributors of the weekend, he was engaging and interesting – and even for a fitness convert like me, his approach was really interesting. The hike was well planned with different routes depending on ability and we spent most of the time chatting and taking in the beautiful scenery. The weather was exactly as expected (rainy and cold!), but refreshing and not too harsh on us. We returned for a de-briefing followed by a hugely emotional and huggy parting of our ways.

Group walk

2016 Escapees starting the Hengistbury Hike

The journey home was a blur – I had the radio on but didn’t hear it. I think my mind was spinning from all I had learned and the wonderful people I had met. The comments in our private online group over the following days have been a testament to the bonds we formed, and I’m very grateful to everyone for having shared part of themselves with me.

I would have no hesitation in recommending the Escape to other people. On top of a range of practical advice, I learned that talking about how I feel is not only important for my own recovery, it will help those around me.

Robin Taylor blogs at http://www.robinbtaylor.com