young adult cancer conference

Getting connected

In 2016, Shine decided to go large and hold our first annual conference. With close to 100 people in attendance, it was a great day and for 2017 we decided to go bigger and better! Shine Connect was held on 20th May in London and was designed as a way for young adults from across the country to come together and connect for a day. With expert speakers and much more, it’s now one of our favourite events, and this year 120 people joined us. Take a read of Jen’s blog about the day – and get set to join us next year!


Connect 1I’m not sure there are many – in fact any – other cancer conferences that combine singing and cute dogs with dating advice and frank discussions about sex and relationships. And that’s what makes Shine Connect unique!

Shine supports a diverse group of young adults in their 20s, 30s and 40s with the unfortunate commonality of having had a diagnosis of cancer. Our needs differ vastly from the older cancer demographic and Shine Connect, Shine’s annual conference, works to address those needs. It is a conference both for young adults with cancer and for healthcare professionals looking to better support young adults with cancer.

Following an introduction from Shine Directors, Ceinwen and Emma, the day kicked off with a panel discussion – think Oprah, but without the tears. Three young adults living with a cancer diagnosis, Robin, Chris and Jess, spoke eloquently about a range of subjects and took questions from the audience. Topics included dealing with uncertainty and anxiety; managing your own feelings and needs alongside the needs of your partner, parents and wider family and friends; dating after cancer; and returning to your career or readjusting career plans. Far from being depressing, their discussion was a lively, funny, raw and honest. Pretty much every person I spoke to could identify with something that was discussed on the panel and many people felt it was one of the best sessions of the day. (NB: You can view the Facebook Live video of the panel here). 

Having cancer as a young adult is a lonely business, and more than once someone at the conference mentioned the frequency with which we hear ‘oh, you’re very young for cancer!’ at clinic appointments. Having the opportunity to listen to and talk with others who are also ‘too young for cancer’ is like being hugged many understanding, warm arms. For me, this first session really set the tone for the rest of the day.

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Shine participants, Plus Ones and healthcare professionals came together

After the panel discussion, the conference attendees split into different sessions: building resilience, fertility after cancer, managing fatigue, and supporting children through an adult’s cancer. There was also a separate session for attendees who were the family/friends of a young adult with cancer, and a session about the needs of young adults with cancer for health care professionals. Over lunch (a super scrummy, healthy spread, followed by fruit or something a little more chocolaty if you preferred!) there was plenty of time to mingle and chat with others, and to swap tips gained from the various sessions. There was also a chance to talk to some of the other organisations that had stalls in the conference “market place”. These included Ellie’s Friends, a charity providing treats like days out and theatre tickets to young adults with cancer; the Lymphoma Association; Insurance With, a specialist travel insurance company for those with pre-existing medical conditions; and Maggie’s Centres. Look Good, Feel Better were there giving makeovers, while a couple of fabulous massage therapists set up downstairs and managed to give out 50 (!) free massages over the course of the day. Last, but definitely not least, Shine had invited Pets as Therapy to the conference, giving everyone who attended the chance to meet some very cute therapy dogs!

 

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One of the therapy dogs gets some love from a Connect participant!

The afternoon session saw some of the morning sessions repeated but there were also new sessions on sex, singing, and creativity in health. More than one person told me how difficult it had been to choose! Along with the majority of afternoon attendees, I went to the interactive sex session (that’s interactive as in talking about sex, in case you were wondering!) Led by the amazingly frank and funny Karen Hobbs and Dr Isabel White, a leading specialist in sexual problems related to cancer treatment, a range of issues were discussed, from physical limitations due to treatment, to chemically induced menopause. It was refreshing to focus on an area that is generally neglected by the medical profession.

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Dr. Isabel White and Karen Hobbs hosted a great (and funny!) sex after cancer session

The day was rounded off with a fascinating keynote speech from Professor Mark Petticrew, a global expert in public health at the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine, who has carried out extensive research into psychological factors and whether they influence cancer and heart disease. During my own experience of cancer and recovery, the questions of how a ‘stressful’ life might have contributed to my diagnosis, and whether emotional stress might hinder recovery, were often brought up. Professor Petticrew’s research showed, however, that there is very little convincing evidence that stress causes cancer and that many of the studies on stress and cancer are seriously flawed. It was an interesting note to end on given that so many of us worry that we have done something to cause our cancer. There’s no need to get stressed out about this too!

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Prof Mark Petticrew from the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine

If you go to Shine’s website you’re able to listen to some fabulous podcasts of ‘Not Your Grandma’s Cancer Show’. Shine Connect could have been called ‘Not Your Grandma’s Cancer Conference’. It’s certainly unique in the cancer world. If you weren’t able to attend this year I strongly recommend you keep an eye out for Shine Connect 2018; who knows what fun will be added next year!

 

It definitely takes a village to make these events happen and we’d like to send massive thanks to TTA, the amazing events management company who helped us pull Shine Connect off for the second year in a row! Huge thanks also to Don’t Forget the Kids, Emily Hodge of Coaching Emily, Toby Peach and Tenovus Cancer Care for delivering some fabulous sessions at the conference! We’d also like to send a huge shout out to Look Good, Feel Better for running some great make-over sessions, and Keith and Rozalia from the Complementary Therapy Department at the Royal Free Hospital for giving free massages to our participants all day!

Life – but not as you knew it: Living with chronic cancer

The general perception of cancer is that you get it, you treat it, and then you’re cured. Anyone who has had cancer knows things aren’t quite so easy; cancer treatment can leave you with long-term side effects and it’s often impossible to know whether you’ve been cured or not. There are also ‘chronic’ cancers that can look to those who aren’t in the know like they’re not cancer at all.

In our latest blog, Sarah writes about living with Chronic Myeloid Leukaemia (CML), a blood cancer which requires daily treatment.  Sarah was one of the first women in the world to give birth while on Glivec, a drug which has revolutionised CML-treatment but which can have difficult and disturbing side-effects.  Take a read and let us know what you think. Whatever your health status, we’re sure you’ll agree that Sarah has an important story to tell.


Sarah CML

Guest blogger: Sarah O’Brien

I discovered I had leukaemia by accident.

I was 30 years old and was at the peak of my fitness, running 5 miles every other day and doing aerobics twice a week. I was juggling an NVQ Level 2 Gym Instructing course with being the single mum of a toddler. I had also recently recovered from severe post-natal depression after the birth of my first child three years earlier and was getting over a marriage break up. But my new boyfriend, Kevin, had just moved in with me and we had started to make plans for a future together……things looked really good.

As I had been on medication for depression it was a routine procedure to check my liver count. At one GP appointment, the nurse wasn’t sure what box to tick on the blood-screening test so she decided to tick all of them and my bloods went off for analysis. A week later I was told to go to my local hospital and have a blood test done with a haematologist. The doctor indicated that there could be a problem but advised me to go back to my GP in a month for another blood test. A couple of days after I did that, I received a phone call telling me to go to the hospital the next day. When we got to the waiting room all I could see were leaflets for HIV and cancer.

After a long wait, I was called into see Professor P. I had some more blood tests done and he checked my spleen. He asked us to return in an hour so he could analyse my blood. When we returned, he told me that I likely had Chronic Myeloid Leukaemia (CML). My world crashed around me.

Nine months before I was diagnosed, I lost my Nana to non-Hodgkin lymphoma and Kevin had lost he dad to cancer the year before, so to be told that I had cancer too was a huge shock. On the other hand, we were able to connect some dots. All of a sudden I understood why I had been a lot more tired than usual, and why I was experiencing shortness of breath when walking up stairs. I had also been getting an upset stomach and losing weight.

Having CML was described by the doctors as similar to a long-term chronic illness, like diabetes. But they also mentioned that there were treatment options such as a bone marrow transplant if oral medication did not control the disease. I was told that was very rare for a woman my age to develop CML as it mainly appears in men over 50.

I started a short course of Hydroxyurea before the long-term treatment of Glivec was started. Glivec (Imatinib) is a tyrosine kinase inhibitor (TKI). It stops the tyrosine kinase enzyme that causes the abnormality in the bone marrow that leads to the mass production of immature white blood cells. Glivec is very much the first in a new type of targeted therapy and many new treatments for other cancers are aiming to follow its design.

When I started Glivec, I often felt sick after taking it and I had re-adjust my meals. I had to have large bowls of pasta in the evening just to keep the tablets down, and if I drank cola or tea it would come straight back up. I started to gain weight and went from size 10 to size 14 within a couple of months but I didn’t feel like exercising as the Glivec also caused bone pain.

Telling family and friends about my diagnosis was difficult. My daughter was too young to understand, although she knew that I wasn’t well. Telling my dad was particularly hard as he lives in New Zealand so the distance seemed even greater, especially as we both just wanted to be able to give each other a hug. Some of my friends thought I was being selfish when I wasn’t able to socialise as much as I had done and some friendships have not lasted the distance. My most important relationship, however, has lasted and that’s with my husband Kevin.

Six months after my diagnosis I started feeling very tired. I also had sudden urges for food like donuts and noticed that smells were becoming stronger. I did a pregnancy test that was positive but when I informed the hospital they told me that having the baby would be a gamble; there hadn’t been many successful pregnancies on Glivec anywhere in the world.

We decided to chance it, and it was agreed that I would come off treatment to give my baby the best chance of survival. Everything ran quite smoothly until 23 weeks into the pregnancy. My white cell count started to rise and I was advised to restart treatment, but the lack of information on Glivec and pregnancy was stressful. We didn’t know how safe the drug was for the baby and we worried that the baby’s brain development could be affected. With so little information go on, I spent an agonising week wondering what to do, and what would be best. I eventually restarted Glivec and, six weeks before my due date, I went into spontaneous labour. Our healthy son, Matthew, was only the fourth baby born worldwide on Glivec.

Following Matthew’s birth, Glivec started to impact negatively on my life. I ballooned from a size 14 to size 22, and I found walking hard. I had drenching night sweats, joint pain, heartburn, itchy skin and felt really down. Eventually it was decided that I could try a different drug called Tasigna. Tasigna is taken on an empty stomach, so I was able to cut the heavy meal at night and, as the weight dropped off, I found getting around a lot easier.

Ten years on from my diagnosis, I am far from as fit as I used to be but I am a lot happier with myself than I was. Having lost 70lbs (five stone), I am now about a size 14. The night sweats still happen but they are not as bad. I still have days where I suffer with fatigue and joint pain and it’s known that the long-term use of TKIs can cause heart damage and diabetes. I try to watch what I eat and do some exercise when I can.

I often wonder what the future will hold for me. CML has changed my life drastically; I gave up on my dream of being a gym instructor and I often feel lost about what to do once my kids are older. I have four-monthly blood tests to check that the Tasigna is still working and, so far, I am in “molecular remission”, meaning that CML cells are undetectable in my blood tests. The only cure for CML is a bone marrow transplant, which is a high-risk procedure. On bad days, I often wish I could be cured so I don’t have to think about managing this illness for the rest of my life. On other days, though, I know I am lucky to be alive.

 

Life – but not as you knew it: The Parent Trap

Life – but not as you knew it is our latest blog series on living with cancer as a young adult. In this blog, Sam Reynolds writes about being a parent to a toddler while having treatment for cancer.  As she points out, parenting and cancer can test our feelings of control – in both cases, we’re challenged to give in to what’s going on around us, whether we want to or not.

At Shine, we have lots of young adults who are both living with cancer and small children.  If you’d like to get in touch or discuss this blog, leave a comment, Tweet us, check out our Facebook group or follow us on Twitter. 

The Parent Trap: Living with Kids and Cancer

Guest blogger: Sam Reynolds

 

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We are respecting our parents’ wishes…..They didn’t want to shelter us from the world’s treacheries.  They wanted us to survive them.

― Lemony Snicket, The End

 My daughter was eighteen months when I was diagnosed with breast cancer for a second time. I always knew she was a miracle (doesn’t every mother?) but when this happened, I cherished her even more. They are incredible little human beings – but they are also not stupid.  How do you explain cancer to a child?

On Googling this topic recently I was slightly alarmed at how little information there was for newly diagnosed parents. The first page I found was a Cancer Research UK page that blatantly suggested that patients would have grown up kids or grandkids, not young children. It took me a few more searches until I found anything useful. A lot of the information was about children with cancer. I realised it was important to share personal experiences of living with kids and cancer because there doesn’t seem to be a huge amount of support out there, but it has a huge impact on people dealing with it.

It is impossible to keep your fear and stress a secret from kids.   At any age, they pick up on things. When I was first diagnosed, I wasn’t yet a parent.  When diagnosed again in 2012, my daughter was small but had a scarily good vocabulary; we immediately knew that we would have to give her a basic understanding of what was going on. Since the lump was in my clavicle, it was hard to hide the bandages after surgery; we called in an ‘ouch’.   We explained using Peppa Pig, her favourite show at the time, that Dr. Brown Bear was taking a bad bump out of Mummy’s neck and making her better. The radiotherapy schedule that followed was totally planned to fit in with her daily routine.  Every lunchtime I would put her down for a nap and a friend or family member would come and babysit for two hours while she slept and I dashed to the hospital.

I was worried about the impact all of this would have on her.  I realised we had obviously done an okay job when one day when we stopped outside the hospital where I had been treated. She asked me if this was hospital was where I got my ‘ouch’ fixed; I said yes. She then piped up, ‘I wish I could have an ouch one day so I could see Dr. Brown Bear’. My heart melted.

Earlier this year I was diagnosed for a third time; my daughter is eighteen months older but she is still incredibly young.   We have continued the ‘ouch’ phrasing – although this time the ouch was on Mummy’s boobies. We can only do what is right for her age. She will learn more as she matures, but she will always know.

The real test for me was during my stay in hospital for surgery. I was advised before the surgery not to invite her to see me. She would have been exposed to more than she could process and I would have been unable to hug and comfort her. It would be too traumatic. After the surgery, however, I was the one who felt like a child. When my mum came into see me I was very emotional and I felt like there was no way I could look after myself, let alone anyone else.  It frightened me how vulnerable and childlike I felt. I missed my daughter so much, yet the idea of being around an energetic, full-of-beans three year-old, scared me. I felt guilty. I wanted to be her mummy again but I had to put all my energy into healing and recovering without her and that was hard.

Recovering from surgery, going for treatment and living with cancer and all it’s appointments and side effects is massively demanding on anyone; as a parent it can seem doubly difficult. Trying to care for a child as well as yourself is a challenge.  On the one hand they are hugely helpful in maintaining some routine and distraction; on the other, it can become all consuming trying to make sure things are kept as normal for them as possible.  Both parenting and having a serious illness test the biggest control freaks among us; I find it an even more enormous test to just surrender at a time like this; to go with it and ride the wave.

It has been hard living with cancer and having a child though the healing that comes from the vitality, curiosity, adoration and innocence of having that little person growing up in front of me cannot be denied. Yes, at the end of a long day we can fall out; we are all tired and we are all emotional.  But tomorrow is a new day and to them, everything is forgotten.

When I was having radiotherapy two years ago it was my daughter’s second birthday. I remember thinking I must be mad to organise a two year-old’s party and to return from a 20th session of radiotherapy to entertain both children and parents.  Seeing the look of delight on her face when we brought out the cake and when we sang happy birthday…. nothing can replace those moments.  I wouldn’t let any cancer diagnosis ruin that for her, or for me.

Sam blogs regularly at samspaceblog.wordpress.com and tweets from @samboreynolds1.