Cycling through Europe for Cancer Research

Steve and I were on holiday in Kephalonia (July 2002) when I found the first lump. It was the second day of our holiday so I was determined not to let it spoil our trip. I had experienced many lumps and bumps previously that were diagnosed as cysts so we stayed positive and enjoyed the sunshine. Little did I know it would be the last time I would sunbathe without feeling self-conscious.

On return I went to my GP. He assured me it would be benign but did a referral anyway. The hospital did a mammogram, which showed up some calcification. He assured me that although this was malignant, it was in its very early stages and could be easily resolved. I then had scans which came back clear, a core biopsy that was inconclusive and finally an open biopsy which confirmed a tumour which they thought could easily be removed. Unfortunately they were unable to get a clearance and found two other tumours resulting in the decision a mastectomy was needed. My breast cancer was lobular cancer, which hides itself quite well and has the potential to mimic in the other breast. I therefore made the decision, after researching the Internet and discussing with my surgeon to go for a bi-lateral mastectomy. All through this time, I had fantastic support from my husband (partner at that time) and the rest of my family, not forgetting my best friend Angie. Steve had the ability to make me laugh at myself all through the trauma of losing my breasts; sitting in the hospital hour after hour making me smile and telling me women didn’t need breasts to look fantastic, in fact, they looked better without! Angie and I giggled in various women’s changing rooms trying to find a bra to fit but the day I put on my self sticking prosthesis was the final straw for Angie who was helpless with laughter. Quite alarming the assistant who knew she was bringing mastectomy wear, what must she have thought? For me humour was the thing that helped me comes to terms with my situation, my friends and family realised this and I congratulate them for their bravery.

8 Weeks later I was back at work enjoying life again, still trying to get a bra that fitted, but feeling positive. I always knew I wanted a reconstruction so kept on at the hospital to get my date sorted. In April 2004 the date came through for surgery in May. My surgeon Caroline at St James hospital was great, a true professional and a great surgeon. I left hospital 5 days later with new breasts, a flat stomach and a lot of pain but feeling on top of the world.

Anne in Portugal

I went back to work again but in August found another lump under my arm. Again this didn’t show up on a scan but as Caroline was doing a check up for my surgery she offered to do a biopsy. I didn’t hear anything so assumed all was OK then got notification to go for the results in Sept. October was Steve’s birthday and 2 years since my mastectomy so I had planned a surprise holiday in Portugal for us to celebrate. The results day was 2 days before we were setting off. We both sat in the waiting room just assuming there was no problem, reading magazines, cursing the usual delays. After an hour or so wait my name was called and we went in to face 2 surgeons and a nurse. I think we both knew at that moment that all was not well but it was a huge shock when they said my cancer was back again and I needed an immediate appointment with the surgeon. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise but had no option other than to tell Steve there and then that we were going to Portugal 2 days later.

Now diagnosed, as having secondary cancer I began to realise my life expectancy was in question. I now had 3 tumours and the cancer was spreading rapidly through my skin tissues. Not only might I die but also I had to face the nightmare of chemotherapy. Nothing can ever prepare you for the rigours of chemotherapy; despite drugs to combat the side affects are the absolute pits. I cant describe the feeling as the drugs get pumped into your veins, not only the pain but the nausea that hits you part way through and the knowledge that very soon all your hair is going to drop out. Not forgetting the chemo fog I lived in for 6 months. As always Steve was there, sitting with me whilst the chemo was injected, driving me home whilst I was sick in his car and stopping at motorway garages whilst I ran in to go to the toilet. I had lots of infections, which meant midnight dashes for Steve from Tod to Leeds with me again being sick in his car and crying with pain.

Although at the time I cried more for my hair than I had for my breasts Steve was there with his bizarre sense of humour. There were shocked faces when, just before my hair started to come out Steve said I shouldn’t waste my money stocking up on hair products and reminded me how much I would save at the hairdressers. We shaved our hair together and He was with me when I bought my first wig and cried in his arms. He always thought I looked great without my hair, reminding me I was cool and that I should be proud to show the world I was fighting cancer. My sister Sue used to call for me on weekdays during chemo and take me out shopping or for a coffee somewhere. If she had any sign of a cold she used to sit there wearing a mask! Her love and support was in evidence every day. My Mum has had to come to terms with the fact she will probably outlive her Daughter but all through the last few years, she has been strong, courageous shedding her tears in private.

Anne and Steve Reynolds

With encouragement from Belinda, my breast nurse, some financial help from Graeme and a gift of the loan of my Sisters house in Spain for 3 months, Steve took 3 months unpaid leave and we set off to spend quality time together in the sunshine. We got married later in the year surrounded by our family and close friends and I bought my first ever sports car.

I have been incredibly lucky to have the support of my family, Steve’s family, my friends and my employers who have always stood by me. I have been surrounded by love and am really proud of the way they have all coped. Graeme has watched his Mum go through all this with sadness but with pride. Despite his hectic life he has always found the time to visit me in hospital and at home. He has joined us on holiday; taken me away on holiday, but much more importantly, been proud to be seen with me, breasts or no breasts, and hair or no hair. My step children, Alex and Katie, only 10 and 13 when I was going through chemo, were never embarrassed to be seen out with “baldy”, Like their Dad they thought I was cool.

There isn’t a happy end to my story; I still have cancer, which is now incurable. I take tablets that help to keep stop it spreading. But this is not without unpleasant side affects and we know that eventually it will kill me. Graeme has taken a very brave decision to go out and raise money for cancer research at a time when our time is precious. I will miss our chats, our texts about his love life, and our visits to each other, but I am so very very proud of him and wish him well.