Blog Archives - Womb Cancer Support UK

Putting a face to the Peach Sisters

30/9/2016

Throughout September, as part of our womb cancer awareness campaign, I have been sharing images on our Facebook page of some of our lovely Peach Sisters. The reason is two-fold – firstly they are lovely ladies and are a great source of support and inspiration to each other and secondly I think it is important that womb cancer has a face.

Although it may be the most common gynaecological cancer it is still very much a second class cancer. It is not given the media coverage that other female cancers get and it has no national awareness campaign.

We, as women who have or have had womb cancer, need to step up and share our story and let the world see who we are. Women of all ages, shapes and sizes; women who are Mothers, Wives, Sisters, Daughters. Strong women whose lives have been changed dramatically by a womb cancer diagnosis.

Why women who have been diagnosed with womb cancer are not treated with the same level of respect as those who have been diagnosed with breast cancer or ovarian cancer baffles me. Think I’m over reacting? I’ve heard from many women who have been told “it’s only your womb – it’s not as if you need it anymore” or “You should be thankful you didn’t have breast cancer” or “you’ve got the easy cancer”.

The emotional and psychological side effects of any cancer diagnosis is often overlooked but when it’s a cancer that affects the very part of you that makes you a woman then it can be so much harder to come to terms with.

As the number of younger women being diagnosed rises, these issues become even more complex. Many younger women are being diagnosed with womb cancer before they have had the chance to have children of their own and the heartbreak that brings with it can be hard to overcome. Not only are these women dealing with a cancer diagnosis; major surgery; having treatment and going into early menopause but they are also having to deal with infertility and the fact they will never become natural Mothers.

Even those women who are beyond child bearing age often feel an extreme sense of loss of womanhood. The lack of emotional and psychological support and aftercare is very patchy across the UK. There are some good examples of support out there but sadly not every woman gets the support and help they need.

The women you see on our FB page are all ages and have different diagnoses but they all share the same determination to make sure that womb cancer gets more recognition.

As we reach the end of womb cancer awareness month, together we will make sure that we do what we can to raise awareness.

Xx Kaz xx

My story of a womb cancer diagnosis by A.R

28/9/2016

This is the last in our series of personal stories by Peach Sisters as part of this years womb cancer awareness month.

" I am 48 years old, and I am a womb cancer survivor. This is my story to date.
In 2008, I was told that I would need a double repair, due to a prolapse of my vaginal walls. This I was told was due to having had 4 children in relatively quick succession, in my early 20’s. I was nervous, as anyone would be, due to surgery, but also a little excited as my sex life hadn’t been that good for a few years, due to lack of sensation etc. The surgery went well, as did the recovery, and I can tell you it was worth it on the sexual front. However, I had asked my consultant if he could remove my cervix at the same time, as I had had low grade abnormal cells for years that they had been monitoring…..he refused !!!
In December of 2009, my period started as usual, but was a lot heavier than usual, but I thought nothing of it. 3 weeks later, I came on again, and it was unusually heavy but this time it didn’t stop. I went to my G.P but he was very unsympathetic, and told me it was probably my age, and that periods changed blah, blah, blah.
Things worsened over the Summer, with my tummy feeling bloated all the time, a constant dragging feeling and regular ‘flooding’, which made my work life quite difficult – I carried a bag of spare knickers and trousers in the car with me, due to the ever increasing incidents.
I tried to put it out of my mind, as my eldest daughter was getting married in the September, and I was busy helping her with her wedding plans. I went back to the GP, twice more during this time, and each time was fobbed off, and made to feel that I was being neurotic, but I knew something wasn’t right.
On my daughter’s wedding day, I went through 20 sanitary towels and 5 outfit changes, due to flooding. It was getting ridiculous. The following Tuesday, at work, I started with chest pains. After much debate with my work colleagues, I took myself to A&E, where I joked that I knew it wasn’t a heart attack, as I would have died already, the length of time I had been having them. The S.H.O at the hospital took my bloods and then started asking me general questions about my health. I told her about my periods, and she looked concerned but didn’t say anything. My blood results came back, and I was severely anaemic. She wanted to admit for an iron transfusion, but I refused as I was flying to Florida the day after. Instead she gave me a prescription for high strength iron tablets and made me promise that I would see my GP and ask for a gynae referral on my return.
My holiday was a disaster, I kept fainting, spent a lot of time in bed and couldn’t enjoy it. On returning to England, I phoned my GP for an appointment, and got one the same day with a female GP. Only at that appoint did the GP examine me. Her face said it all. “We need to get you an urgent referral to gynae” she said. “I’m going to phone them myself now”, “try not to worry” AS IF!!!

My head was all over the place. I had an appointment for the very next day. I laid on the examining couch, with my legs akimbo, whilst the nurse held my hand, as a junior doctor prodded and poked my insides. “I just need to get my senior” he said, took his gloves off and left the room, leaving the nurse to make idle small talk. In walked the senior, same procedure, then "I just need a quick word with the consultant”, gloves off and he left the room. “I’m sure its nothing to worry about” said the nurse uncomfortably – yeah right I thought. In walked the consultant, same procedure, “Erm,, you have a number of masses protruding from your cervix. I need to arrange a hysteroscopy and an ultrasound as a matter of urgency.” That was Thursday, and within a week, I had had an ultrasound, a hysteroscopy, a blood transfusion, and was sat in the consultants waiting room. Sat there alone, all alone. he said “ You have cancer”. “Do you have any questions?” What? I had so many questions, but my head was spinning, and the ground was caving in “ Am I going to die” was all I could manage to say. “ Hopefully not, we are transferring your care over to the oncology team at Preston”. And with that it was done…I HAD CANCER. I HAD FUCKING CANCER. I WAS GOING TO DIE. I HAD CANCER !!!!!
That was in October, and I had a radical hysterectomy on the 13th December 2010. I honestly couldn’t wait, I need to get this ‘thing’ out of my body. The hardest bit was telling my children, especially my older ones, 2 of whom were pregnant at the time. I had to pretend it was all going to be fine, and that I was ok, but really I wasn’t, but no way was I going to show them that.
So almost 6 years on, here I am, I am a survivor…..yes the cancer has gone, but at a price. I no longer feel like a woman, I have lost my sense of identity, my marriage has suffered beyond belief, and I now suffer from severe depression and anxiety…but I am alive, and for that I am truly grateful.
I have met some fantastic, strong ladies along the way, from Smiling Debs, who first introduced me to Kaz, and WCSUK, to Pam, who lives in the next village. They have supported me every step of the way, and in turn, I hope to support every woman, who develops this disease, by raising awareness. My hope is that this little known cancer, will one day be as well known as other women's cancers and that in raising awareness we can help save a life.

Thank you Kaz for being there for me xxx"

If you would be willing to share your story then please get in touch using the contact form.

xx Kaz xx

The work of Womb Cancer Alliance by Dr. Emma Crosbie

27/9/2016

.Womb cancer is the 4th most common cancer affecting British women but it is poorly understood. There are many unanswered questions about what causes womb cancer, who is at risk, how it can be prevented and what treatments are most effective.
To address this lack of knowledge, we set up the Womb Cancer Alliance [http://research.bmh.manchester.ac.uk/wombcanceralliance] in October 2014.

The Womb Cancer Alliance is a group of patients, clinicians and charity representatives with an interest in womb cancer. Under guidance from the James Lind Alliance [http://www.jla.nihr.ac.uk/about-the-james-lind-alliance/], our mission was to conduct a nationwide survey to identify the top ten unanswered research questions in womb cancer. Since time is short and money is limited, it is essential that research prioritises important questions. The Womb Cancer Alliance asked patients, their families and the clinicians who look after them what research questions are most important.

We received hundreds of suggestions from healthcare professionals and the public. A long list was whittled down to a short list by our Womb Cancer Alliance steering commitee. Then we held a meeting where the top 30 questions were ranked [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZxDYpJDQWFE&feature=em-upload_owner].
This allowed us to agree on a final ‘top ten’ most important unanswered research questions in womb cancer.
These are:
* Can we develop a personalised score that predicts a person’s individual risk of developing womb cancer?
* Which women with abnormal bleeding need specialist referral?
* What are the most effective treatments for womb cancer that has spread and what new treatments may be useful?
* Who will benefit from chemotherapy and/or radiotherapy?
* Can a blood test tell us who will do well after treatment and who won’t?
* How can we raise public awareness about womb cancer?
* What is the psychological impact of a womb cancer diagnosis?
* What causes womb cancer?
* Can we predict which womb cancers will respond to hormone treatment?
* Do lifestyle changes, including weight loss, improve the outlook for women who have been diagnosed with womb cancer?

For more information, see
http://www.gynecologiconcology-online.net/article/S0090-8258(16)31360-9/pdf

We hope to encourage the public, researchers and research funders to work together to answer some of these important questions. We think this is vital if we are to improve the lives of women affected by womb cancer.

Emma Crosbie
Senior Lecturer and Honorary Consultant Gynaecological Oncologist
Division of Molecular & Clinical Cancer Sciences, Faculty of Biology, Medicine and Health, University of Manchester, 5th Floor - Research, St Mary’s Hospital, Manchester, M13 9WL, UK.
Email. emma.crosbie@manchester.ac.uk

My womb cancer story by M.T

25/9/2016

Another personal story from a Peach Sister.

"I was diagnosed in November 2014 after experiencing a bloated stomach and feeling full when eating. Couldn't even manage a sandwich which was unusual for me as I love my food!!
Went to see my GP who examined me and felt a large mass in my pelvic area. Sent straight to A&E where it all went from there. Had a ct scan which showed various tumours in my ovaries, womb and cervix. They operated and found it had spread from my womb to my ovaries, cervix, diaphragm and nodules on the lungs.
Devastated to find out it was stage 4 grade 1 endometrial carcinoma.
Had 6 rounds of carboplatin and taxol with a ct scan halfway through. At the end of treatment had a scan and found out I was in remission which over a year later I still am.
Oncologist put me on a hormone drug called anastrozole to help prevent recurrence as my tumours were oestrogen sensitive.
They seem to be helping at the moment as had another clear scan recently.
Never give up ladies we can fight this. I thought my life was ending but I'm still here. I went back to work a month after chemo ended. No side effects from the chemo at all which I am very grateful about.
Never give up hope xx"

If you would be willing to share your story then please get in touch via the contact form.

xx Kaz xx

A quick rant by C.L

23/9/2016

Another guest blog post for you as part of womb cancer awareness month.

"You know those TV images don’t you? They are usually on the news, typically on breakfast TV and picture the middle section of an overweight woman wobbling as she walks down the street. If they can picture her outside a fast food outlet, or eating a pasty, all to the better.

I hate this. Cutting off her head dehumanizes her. It discriminates and humiliates in a way that would never be acceptable in terms of race, sexual orientation, religion or gender. It makes people who are probably already unhappy in their skin even more so, and contributes to the low self-esteem that is one of the causes of overeating.

Over recent years the links between obesity and cancer have been highlighted. This can result in feelings of guilt in patients. I certainly felt the ‘I’ve brought it on myself’ recriminations, not considering that I had all but one of the other risk factors for womb cancer.
I also had the discussion with a couple of people at work after the father of one was diagnosed with terminal cancer. She pointedly said to me ‘It’s so unfair. He’s slim, he’s kept fit, he goes to the gym, he’s looked after himself.’ She didn’t quite say ‘Not like you, why should you be the one to survive?’, but the implication was there. Well can I whisper it to the world? Cancer isn’t fair!

Reasons for being overweight are complex. Solutions are not easy. I wish they were. For every person who says that it’s a simple matter of balancing calories against output, I would like them to tell me what their stress outlet is. Maybe it’s alcohol, cigarettes, drugs, shouting and screaming or, heaven forbid, kicking the dog or the spouse or some other creature.

Sadly some of us turn that stress back on to ourselves and eat. We are often programmed to it from childhood when a treat of sweets was used to calm us when we were upset. OK, there are people who eat a high fat, salt and sugar ridden diet, but as I said to the consultant who, with some surprise in his voice, told me I had made an excellent recovery from surgery, ‘Well I do eat a healthy diet – in addition to the cake.’

Attitudes of doctors can be counterproductive. So many of the symptoms that present with cancer can be put down to being overweight. How many times has a doctor said that your symptoms would improve if you lost some weight? It got to the point with me that I ignored back pain and fatigue as I thought I would get the usual trite response. It was only when I had post-menopausal bleeding that I sought help.

I have a friend (a big girl) who had painful and heavy periods for many years and was repeatedly told that it was not only down to her weight but also that there was no point in palpitating her abdomen as they wouldn’t be able to feel anything for the fat. It took a young, female, doctor, new to the practice, to send her for a scan only to discover a fibroid the size of a rugby ball!

So, media, lay off us! We are going through a tough enough time without you stirring up feelings of guilt and resentment. And doctors - stop assuming that every symptom that can be put down to being overweight is that!
Yes we possibly do cost the NHS more, but how much of that is down to us only turning up at the surgery or being sent for investigations when our disease is quite advanced?
How about a bit of understanding and compassion?"

Do you have something that you'd like to get off your chest? Get in touch using the contact form.

xx Kaz xx

Keep Talking by Daloni Carlisle

22/9/2016

A guest blog post by Daloni Carlisle who has been doing her bit to raise awareness of womb cancer since being diagnosed herself.

" I never wanted to be the poster girl for womb cancer. But when a job comes along and you are the right person in the right place with the right skills to do it, then sometimes you just have to go for it.
My name is Daloni and I am a journalist by profession, wife and mother in the rest of my life and in 2014, aged just 50, I was diagnosed with womb cancer. It was advanced and aggressive – a stage 3c2, grade 3 uterine serous carcinoma.
It was, as is the way of these things, a hell of a shock. I think of myself as reasonably well informed about health – I have a degree in biochemistry and I write about health policy for a living. Yet I had never heard of womb cancer.
I looked into the numbers and you could have knocked me down with a feather. Womb cancer, I discovered, is the fourth most common cancer among women behind breast, lung and bowel. Rates are rising rapidly yet there is no awareness campaign, no posters about the symptoms to look out for, no charity flying the flag for womb cancer, no celebrity talking about her diagnosis….In fact none of the things that we have come to expect.
So I started writing and I started talking. My first piece was for the Guardian newspaper and it was well received, opening other doors. The Eve Appeal, a charity devoted to preventing gynae cancers through research and information provision, asked me to speak to an audience of celebrities at a charity auction. We put womb cancer into The Tatler magazine, the Daily Mail and sundry other publications – and I talked about my periods in front of Jo Brand, the cast of TOWIE and Grayson Perry. Next I was invited to join the Womb Cancer Alliance, a group of academics and patients funded by the James Lind Alliance to identify the top ten research priorities in womb cancer. On the back of this I co-authored a paper for Oncology News – and I am co-author on a scientific paper due out this month in the journal Gynaecologic Oncology.
And so it’s gone on. One thing has led to another and over the last couple of years I have written for the Women’s Institute magazine, for the feminist website the F Word and lesbian magazine Sisters. I’ve done interviews about womb cancer for BBC television and radio, for Sky News, for ITN and Magic FM as well as the Huffington Post. I’ve blogged for the Eve Appeal and WCSUK. There is literally no-one I won’t talk to about my periods these days.
I don’t want to sound like a big head here – that’s not why I am writing this blog. I started writing about womb cancer first to help me understand my own experience and explore whether I could have done anything differently had I been better informed (the answer is no, by the way). I also wanted help other women recognise the symptoms that could lead to a cancer diagnosis – and act on them.
My central message has always been that women need to learn to talk about our periods. We need to stop giggling in corners and get to know our bodies, what’s normal for us and to stand up for ourselves when things go wrong.
It’s not always been easy to do this awareness raising. Bear in mind for a moment that talking about womb cancer means talking about periods, vaginas, wombs and sex. There is no getting away from it. And talking to the media involves being very open about your own personal experience – often with your photo attached. It takes courage and, if I am honest, the kind of skill and experience that I have developed during three decades in journalism.
So, as I say, I never wanted to be the poster girl for womb cancer. But if it helps – and enough of the feedback I receive tells me it does – then I am happy to do it."

If you would like to write a piece for the blog then please get in touch via the contact form, we'd love to hear from you.

xx Kaz xx

A Little Peach Hug by Janice Bennett

21/9/2016

This is another guest blog post by a Peach Sister - one who is giving something back to other women diagnosed with womb cancer.

"I came up with 'A Little Peach Hug' in April 2016 following surgery and during brachytherapy treatment for Womb Cancer.
My cancer story had started in December 2015 following a year of unexplained bleeding. The diagnosis not only came as a shock to myself and my family but also to my GP.
At 39, just 3 months before my 40th birthday I found myself preparing for major surgery instead of for a birthday party. I was given handfuls of information and leaflets to take home and read by the Macmillan Nurses and found myself very overwhelmed. At the time, the thing I was having problems getting my head around was the fact I had never knowingly heard of womb cancer.
Before I went for surgery my husband had wanted to organise a little treat for me to cheer me up, but unfortunately I was to unwell. This was the first time I had thought about doing something, but obviously it was put to the back of my mind for the next two months. So in April the thought once again crossed my mind. I recalled hearing somewhere about gift bags being given to women being diagnosed with breast cancer and so with some thought, I decided to create my own version.
So, A Little Peach Hug is a little treat to let other women being diagnosed with womb cancer know that they are not on their own and to remind them that "They are Amazing!".
I was also aware of my own health and wanted to do make the gift bags manageable. I knew that September was womb cancer awareness month and so I had a target date for putting plans into action. I knew I could realistically only provide bags for ladies locally and decided that as I live and was treated in Greater Manchester I would plan for providing bags there. I was very surprised right from the start, with offers of items for the first set of bags. It also became a talking point, and a great way of spreading awareness.
As I was still having treatment and recovering, I started collecting items for 20 bags and I am pleased to say that they were delivered to the Macmillan Nurses at Manchester Royal Infirmary/St Mary's for their womb cancer awareness event. I've also been able to make up 40 slightly smaller bags which contain items for a pamper and truly are 'Little Peach Hugs'!
I am very proud, seeing the bags coming together and excited for them to finally be distributed."

If you would be interested in writing a guest blog post for us then please get in touch using the contact form.

xx Kaz xx

My story of a womb cancer diagnosis by M.B

20/9/2016

Another in our series of personal stories by Peach Sisters.

" I initially visited my GP as I had complained of a slight bladder leak, where I was told it was likely to be stress incontinence, but I was determined to prove that this simply wasn’t the case.
As a result, I tried several types of medication over the course of months which caused a wide-range of side-effects including constipation. After having a Urinary Diagnostic Test I was swiftly prescribed 8 weeks of TENS treatment which proved to have no effect on my urinary problems, after this I was given the option to be referred to Liverpool Women’s Urinary Clinic or be placed on different medication as there had been no improvement.
Over several years, I continued to see my GP due to bleeding and passing clots after intercourse and painful intercourse which was strange as my periods had ceased. My GP performed a smear test and this came back suspect and I was referred for a colposcopy which was performed and came back clear. However, no further tests were done to determine why my periods had stopped at this stage – which I feel was a missed opportunity.
I was given HRT at several different times for menopausal symptoms but my blood was never checked to see if I was actually in menopause before being prescribed HRT. Subsequently I have found out that I have Hashimoto’s Disease which can present you with symptoms of the menopause.
In Feb 2015 I started getting pain in my left hip which was excruciating, and coincided around the time of when I should be having my period, but it then progressively started occurring all the time and which proved to be unbearable at times.
I saw my consultant in June 2015, by which this time I was having daily foul smelling black bloody discharge that made me very self-conscious, which I mentioned during a check-up, unfortunately this was seemingly ignored. After 12 weeks of bloody discharge and pain in my pelvic area a uterine biopsy was performed, with the possibility of fitting a Mirena Coil or them performing an ablation procedure. However, during this time I visited my GP who sent me for a pelvic x-ray, but these results were inconclusive.
Before I left for a holiday in early October I started opening the post. I found that I had been sent appointments at Liverpool Women’s Hospital and one for a MRI. As we had to leave the following day, I rang Liverpool Woman’s Hospital from Greece and told them I would not be able to attend my appointment and asked why was I being seen by them, as at this point I did not know I was speaking to the Oncology department. They were not able to answer my query but sent details of my consultant to contact him.
I rang the consultant, and received a message later that day, requesting I see him as soon as I got back, but I wanted reassurances and asked whether I needed to bring someone with me. He said it would be a good idea if I brought someone with me. This information let me know that it wasn’t good news. I then asked if this had something to do with my biopsy and he said he really didn’t want to go into over this over the phone – but I couldn’t continue on my holiday not knowing what was wrong. He then confirmed to my horror that they I had endometrial adenocarcinoma. The look on my husband’s face when I repeated back to the consultant that I had cancer is something I will NEVER forget.
Upon my return, I had very difficult surgery as my bladder was fused to my uterus and I had to have a large T-cut performed on the inside of my vagina in order for them to remove both my uterus and the tumour, which was the size of a tennis ball. The pain in my hip which I had been suffering with from February to November ended up being a pocket of infection in my pelvis, which was cleared up by a course of two antibiotics. The histology revealed my cancer was Grade 1b Stage 2 with cancer cells in the micro capillaries of my uterine wall. I chose to undergo 5 weeks of external radiotherapy and one brachytherapy

Both myself and my husband have been left with grief, emotional and mental anguish and very angry that no listened to me when I knew something wasn’t quite right. I was made to feel like a hypochondriac, being told “Oh it’s just because you are a woman of a certain age”.
I am now trying to recover both mentally and physically from this experience.
Womb cancer is more common than both cervical and ovarian put together, yet all of my symptoms were missed or ignored. I do wonder how many other women have had their symptoms missed and their cancer found too late?"

If you would be willing to share your story then please get in touch via the contact form.

xx Kaz xx

Welcome September by Sharon Champagne

18/9/2016

This guest post is from a Peach Sister in the US.

" As the month of September is here, I am reminded that I am a cancer survivor.
That being said, it makes me sad that we are not all survivors.
I think of all who have passed because of cancer.
My family and friends have been hit with this disease.
I cry during this month, and through the year for them.
I cry for me; the guilt and the happiness of being here.
I am thankful for the Doctors and Nurses who helped me survive the painful aspects of cancer.
Strangers who walked up to me and prayed right in the middle of a store (yep, that happened a couple of times).
My sisters Nancy and Patti who were there every single time I needed them.
My daughter Nassreen who took notes when I couldn’t.
My sweet heart Brian for all the head holding when I was puking everywhere!
I am thankful for the people who surrounded me then and now.
Welcome September"

If you would like to write a guest piece for the blog then please get in touch via the contact form.

xx Kaz xx

My story of a womb cancer diagnosis by G.F

17/9/2016

Another.in our series of personal stories by peach Sisters.

" It was two years ago. Some 'spotting' noted by yours truly. Appointment with GP duly made. My GP is Russian. She orders me on the bed for examination. 'Tis not good. I refer you straight way. You will hear in two weeks'. Alarm bells are ringing.
That night, probably due to Olga's intimate examination, l awake feeling 'wet' between the legs. The sheet is covered in blood. I am scared. I cry. I cannot bring myself to say the 'C' word but, in my heart, l KNOW. I am 59 for God's sake. Too old for periods, and ten years past the menopause. What else could it be?
My husband looks shell-shocked already, and we're not even started! I find myself reassuring him. 'Normal life' resumes.
Fast-forward one week. A letter arrives telling me l am to have a hysteroscopy. It says l shouldn't drive afterwards. That and the word 'oncology' are enough to raise my anxiety.
17 JULY 2014 HYSTEROSCOPY DAY
We arrive ( via taxi) at the hospital, a hitherto unknown place. It is huge and eerily quiet. In my memory there are three distinct parts to the day.
Part1: involves what l assume is 'ultrasound'. A young female, unfriendly and unsmiling, inserts something in my vagina and wiggles it around a lot. There is at least one other person present but no=one speaks or offers explanation, information, or simple reassurance. The (sonographer?) stares blankly at the screen in front of her. I wonder what she is seeing, and why my nether regions warrant such unflinching scrutiny/interest?
Between Part 1 and Part 2, a nurse administers drugs- tramadol , l believe.
Part 2: In another room, a male registrar gets me to sign consent forms. He is friendly, but non-commital, and l have no recollection of him telling me what was yet to happen. Has he already processed what emerged from Part 1 l wonder? If so, he isn't saying.
Part 3: Involves me sat precariously on a clearly-designed-for-the-purpose-of-torture chair with my pants off and my legs akimbo. I don't recall any niceties or explanation. What l recall was a male with a speculum, and another doctor stood behind him, arms folded and wearing a grave expression. A third male and two females are also present. A metal implement is inserted and more wiggling about ensues. I hear low moans and realise they are from me. I am gripping the hand of one of the females and saying sorry repeatedly.
The man with his arms folded asks about pain relief. Another man says 'you'll need a hysterectomy'. Then water is whooshed into my uterus ( because l am bleeding?) and l overhear someone pointing out the 'white lines' on the screen. The expressions are grave.
The word 'biopsy' is mentioned. More pain follows - like your worst-ever smear test, but with a bigger audience and a lot more foreplay.
Finally, it's over. The kind-faced female tells me l 'did well' as she points out the tissues and tells me to get dressed. I am to make a 'follow-up' appointment.
No-one has said the word but l KNOW. I just KNOW that l have cancer.
My husband is waiting. I can tell he's been crying. I tell him 'biopsy' and 'hysterectomy' and he knows too. It is a searingly hot day. Our carriage awaits. We grip each other's hand for the entire taxi-ride home. I have a pad between my legs, and a surreal sense of this being the start of a journey we hadn't envisaged.
31 JULY 2014 ONCOLOGY/ GYNAE
Appointment with oncologist. 'It's bad news l'm afraid'. I have cancer. Not any old common or garden cancer! I have serous papillary carcinoma, pretty rare, fast growing, grade 3. I ask if it's serious. It is. I ask what will happen next. MRI scan, hysterectomy, radiotherapy.
I am sent off to meet Amanda, my very own Macmillan nurse. Now l really do KNOW l have cancer. FUCK. I thought Macmillan was reserved for the dying. Amanda is kind. She asks lots of questions. I hold it together until she asks about my children.............she offers to tell my daughter for me/with me if l can't find the courage/words.
In the next couple of weeks l tell my sister, my employer, my closest friends. My daughter is on holiday. HOW WILL I TELL MY DAUGHTER? is imprinted on my brain. A close friend says 'don't underestimate her'. And, like an epiphany, l realise l AM underestimating my brave, beautiful girl who has already survived the ( sudden) deaths of her only sibling and her dad. I realise l am thinking l might be leaving her too.
4 AUG 2014   TELLING MY GIRL
l tell her. She cries. l look at my weeping girl and my anger rises. How ****ing dare cancer try and steal me away from my loved ones. How dare it pick on me.
6 AUG 2014 TELLING MY MOTHER
Together, we tell my mother. There is a longer, unedited version l could tell of how she took the news. Let's just say she's a life-long hypochondriac and narcissist. So there is no way me and my grade 3 cancer can be centre-stage! She rejects the Macmillan leaflet l give her, and promptly hides it. 'I'd hate the kiddies to see it'. I explain that my beloved grandaughters already KNOW l have cancer, but clearly she isn't yet ready to be upstaged, or for someone twenty years younger than her to be more 'ill' than she professes to be. Not one question was asked, and no interest was so much as feigned.
12 AUG 2014     CT & MRI SCANS
Big day. CT scan and MRI scan, an hour apart. The CT scan is okay, like being surrounded by a whirring metal doughnut. Like the sound of an aeroplane taking off, but reduced volume. Strange sensation, like mild burning, as the 'dye' solution they insert through a canula travels through your veins. Feels like you might actually wet yourself..........and it was a relief to discover l hadn't!
The MRI scanner is something quite different. You are laid flat, with a weighty 'shield' over your trunk area, and your legs separated by another structure. Your arms are by your side and you are told to remain still. Heavy headphones cover your head and ears and then........it begins. You are slowly shunted into an all encompassing white 'tunnel'. El Divo is playing through the headphones but it doesn't disguise the NOISE........tapping, whirring, hammering. It feels like being entombed, the 'roof' of the tunnel only about nine inches above your head. I try to cope by closing my eyes tightly, counting the 'tracks' on the CD, and feel my heart hammering in my chest. It feels like l am drowning, or being buried, as my panic rises. I press the panic button.
It seems to take forever, but the machine stops, and a kindly nurse helps me out. I am crying and shaking and my heart is racing. Another female, ( the radiographer?) tells me it was nearly over and 'we haven't scanned your tummy yet'. I shake my head. It's over. I am escorted out of the room, crying, into the arms of my daughter and husband. I feel ashamed.
I feel l have failed the first of many still-to-be-determined endurance tests.
14 AUG 2014      RESULTS DAY
The big day. The day we find out what the scan shows. 'Seems like it hasn't spread beyond the endemetrium'. Whoop! Whoop! 'Hysterectomy' is the planned procedure, then recuperation, then radiotherapy. Despite the fact l have to have another CT of the abdomen, we leave like we're lottery winners. Our joy is short-lived.
FAST FORWARD A COUPLE OF DAYS
We are enjoying lunch, in a pub garden. The sun is shining. My phone rings. It is my oncologist's secretary. The CT scan showed a lesion on my liver. It is 'probably nothing to worry about'. However, l now need a PET scan. It becomes 'something to worry about'.
18 AUG 2014        PET SCAN
Bloody PET scan. I realise l am no longer a 'novice' at this scan business. I remove all my jewellery before we leave home. I wear an elastic 'comfort' bra, minus metal fastenings. Jeggings, minus metal fastenings, rubber flip-flops. This way l know l can be scanned fully-dressed. I have learned that a bra-less, heavy-breasted woman aged 59 is not a good look. Even in a scanner, laid flat!
This scan was okay. Not least, the nurse showed me the scanner, talked me through what would happen, explained where she and her colleague would be positioned while l was scanned. I kept thinking 'l wish they'd done this with the MRI'. Maybe l would have coped better?
Prior to the actual scan l have one hour enforced rest (to enable the radioactive material to course through my bloodstream). I am told this makes the images clearer. I read magazines while l wait.
I am told it will last forty minutes. It seems much quicker. Despite being told l am to avoid pregnant women and children for six hours, l am free to go. Into the hugely busy hospital, ironically full of women and children..........!!
I wend my ( radioactive) way home.
21 AUG 2014 PRE-OP
Pre-op assessment. A totally hideous experience. I could forgive the seventy minute wait to be even spoken to. I could forgive the unhelpful, unfriendly receptionist. But, when l am finally seen, l am asked questions that, frankly, could have been on a form. I did point out that l'd had seventy minutes in the waiting room when l could have filled up a form with such basic info on. Frankly, any healthcare assistant could have wandered around the crowded waiting room filling up the bloody forms ( name? address? sex? etc etc ). I feel irritated, patronised, annoyed. The 'sister' seems to hate me. 'You'll need to take that off' she says, pointing at my polished nails. She isn't impressed when l tell her my consultant assured me it wouldn't be necessary and, on that basis, l would ignore her 'advice'.
I return to the ( appropriately named) WAITING room.
After a further fifteen minutes l am invited into another room to see the young doctor. She is profusely apologetic. She tells me each appointment lasts an hour, but is only allocated twenty minutes, hence the long delays. She looks like she might cry. She is constantly interrupted, by her phone, the bleep, another knock at the door. Her stress is palpable. I am angry on her behalf, the impossibility of doing a good job with such a shit system in place. As l leave l ask the miserable receptionist where l might find the complaint forms.
Today was not an example of the NHS at its finest. It wasn't my finest hour either, to be honest.
22 AUG 2014     LIVER PROBLEM?
My consultant rings. He tells me there is a 'lesion' on my liver but, after due consideration, they are going to proceed with my hysterectomy anyway. 'Hopefully' it will prove insignificant, as it's not causing symptoms or problems. They will take a biopsy during surgery. Bloody delighted with this news!
29 AUG 2016   HYSTERECTOMY
Oh the thrill of realising you are top of the list! No hanging about for me- l am weighed, undressed, gowned, canulas attached, and all before 8 am. The anaesthetist is rather handsome and reassuring. He tells me l will have spinal anaesthesia as well as general. I ask why. He says for pain relief and incase l need abdominal surgery. It reminds me there is still everything to play for. My lovely consultant surgeon is kind and authorative, asks me to explain in my own words what l think is happening today. He assures me he'll take good care. I believe him.
I say farewell to my husband and am wheeled away by a lovely care assistant who tells me they all fancy the blue-eyed anaesthetist and call him 'Dr Love'. It makes me laugh and she shrieks dramatically when l threaten to tell him.
At some point l realise we have entered 'theatre-land' as everyone is dressed in maroon scrubs and wearing 'crocs'. The atmosphere has changed. More urgent. More purposeful.
We have reached our destination. We are in theatre. Doctor Love is there waiting for me! I tell him his nickname and he laughs. Then he does the spinal thing. I had expected it to hurt. It didn't. Then the injection in the hand........and induced sleep.
When l awake, l am told NOT to prod my tummy. I realise l have had keyhole surgery which, in turn, makes me realise l could be out of here pretty quickly! A bit later l am wheeled to my own room, with ensuite. I have an intraveneous drip, a breathing tube, and a catheter. I am pain-free and euphoric. Cancer gone! Yay!
Later, l find out l was in surgery four hours. The drip is morphine ( which explains the no-pain/euphoria). Nurses routinely pop in, on the hour, blood-pressure, temperature, the usual post-operative assessments.
My husband and daughter visit. Their relief is palpable. We laugh and joke and, although l am bed-bound, l feel happier than l have for some while.
After my husband leaves, my daughter takes of photo of me. She entitles it 'The Belle of the Cancer Ward'. We laugh our heads off. l might have actually wet myself if it wasn't for the catheter........!!
The photo remains our secret.
I am 'released' the next day, to the amazement and delight of myself and my loved ones. My surgeon says it's a testament to my 'good health' and 'fitness'. He is smiling.
THE NEXT FEW WEEKS. RECOVERY.
Friends rally. Flowers and cards arrive. I am filling in my 'Happy Book' daily, and adding notes to my 'Happiness Jar' as if my life depended on it. I stop keeping a 'log', no idea why, maybe just bored with bloody cancer? We live on the seafront. We have a beach hut. Both prove to be great incentives to walk every day, to enjoy the sunshine. I miss driving, but not as much as l'd expected, and only for three weeks. My husband admits he quite enjoyed playing doctor, administering daily injections for the first couple of weeks. I am walking in a peculiar way, nerve damage caused by spinal anaesthetic, very bizarre.
Everyone assumes my struggle with cancer is done. They assume the operation removed it and l am now 'fine'. I am far from 'fine'. Apart from the gammy leg, the constipation, the post-surgery blues, l am struggling to adjust to being a 'patient' in my own home. My absolute lowest point is the 'enema incident' when l have to ask my husband to intervene after days of chronic constipation. Wretched humiliation.
FAST FORWARD DEC 2014
RADIOTHERAPY & BRACHYTHERAPY
Bloody radiotherapy. Five days a week, for five weeks. A necessary evil. Followed by brachytherapy times two. Bloody awful. It just became our way of life, our new 'normal'. The 'bonus' was l lost a stone in weight due to constant diarroeah and nausea, and a reluctance to follow my usual vegetarian diet. Most of my every day staple foods were on the 'not recommended' list.
Christmas 2014 was 'stolen' from us. Ditto New Year. I spent both in bed, exhausted by the gruelling regime of radiotherapy.
The worst part? Everyone telling me how 'lucky' l was. Lucky to not need chemo, so l didn't lose my hair. Lucky the cancer was 'contained' in my womb. Lucky to have no visible scars or disfigurement. I didn't FEEL fucking lucky. I felt hopeless and angry.
I hated the 'scrutiny'. The 'oh, but you look so WELL'. The weight loss helped, as did my make-up, my fake smile, and my sheer bloody determination not to let cancer steal any more of me. I met people strictly 'by appointment only' through that period, afraid to let my guard down, and determined not to be pitied by anyone. It worked. I think. But it was very lonely. I wouldn't recommend it.
SUMMER 2015/ EPILOGUE
I have retired early from my job as a teacher. I feel well and happy. It is my 60th year. My birthday is in October but I bring it 'forward' to August, when there's at least a chance of sunshine!
I am surrounded by family, friends, neighbours, colleagues, loved ones. We are celebrating my 60th, on the beach. There are gazebos, balloons, bunting. I have instructed 'NO PRESENTS' and requested donations to Macmillan instead. We have a ball! Strangers stop and tell us THEIR story, and throw money in the collection buckets. People stop and ask what we're doing. They bring wine or beer and join in with the party. It was a memorable occasion, in every way.
My 'Birthday Bash' raised £2,000 for Macmillan. They were my main source of information and support throughout my illness. They do amazing work, every day, and l was glad to do something positive. Basically, l sat on my arse, drinking wine, having a lovely time! Hardly a marathon effort! But it restored my pride, my self-esteem and my confidence. It made public what l had been through, and survived.
I'm still living in the shadow of cancer. I still need regular scans, blood tests, etc. I thought l'd be 'free' of it by now and l'm not. Even my bloody liver keeps up appearances! My type of cancer has a high recurrence rate and might yet have another attempt at stealing my joy.
Let it try! I am so much better informed, and hence better prepared, than l was two years ago. Womb gone. Me? Still here, alive and very much KICKING.
Long may it continue."

If you are willing to share your story then please get in touch using the contact form.
xx Kaz xx

Returning to work after cancer by P.S

16/9/2016

Returning.to work after having treatment for cancer can be tricky especially if your employer is not that helpful. Here one of our Peach Sisters explains how she found returning to work was harder than she thought it would be.

" Telling work about cancer had a bit of a mixed reaction for me, I was wondering if I would get through it while they were wondering how they would cope with one less person to do a complex job where I was the only one with the experience to do it.
The union/company had some guidelines where they wouldn't let me continue to work or to use telephones, send emails or represent, in case I got it wrong due to stress/brain fog. I could only go on site if HR had asked me due to insurance issues. I was a bit upset at first but soon realised they had a valid point.
I was told as a rule I wouldn't be required to rush back for the first 12 months which would be covered by full wages then after that it would be half wages. My treatment took some diverse turns and I was sent for further testing during my treatment which extended past the 12 months, however they decided to let me go back before the results of the testing were finished.
I went back on a phased return which took over 6 weeks; 2 hours a day for the first 2 weeks then up to 4 hours for the next two weeks then 6 hours then finally to 8 hours. I also was able to loose some of my more difficult customers until I got back into the swing of it. Unfortunately this didn't happen as on my final CT scan I had a blood clot on my lung which put me out of action for a further month which didn't go down too well but to be fair they allowed me to have another phased return at the end of the month getting used to warfarin.

Hospital appointments etc were honoured without question, however I felt I was getting weaker and weaker, it was getting harder to get up and go in but I felt they had really done enough to try and get me back into the swing of things.
However once back to full time and not so much under the protection of HR it was expected that I was back to "normal" and I was going to be able to step back in and things would just carry on where I left off!
Gloves were off; my boss, a MAN, was one of the worst as his father had prostate cancer and let no opportunity go by to tell me how well he was doing and how it wouldn't be long until I was back to full strength.
He used to deliberately hold meetings in an office down two flights of stairs, sometimes twice a day, that killed my knees and absolutely finished me for doing anything else. I was so exhausted walking up and down 2 flights of stairs and they were usually meetings about meetings.
He was generally as awkward as he could be. down to telling me I couldn't use the disabled space which nobody else could use because there was a step at the drivers door but my car was high and went over the top of it.
That was overridden by HR and was a big help.The others in the office were initially glad to see me back as it meant they were able to get rid of most of what they had taken on when I went off sick, however then my boss, using his father as a yardstick, started to give me new customers and I just felt I wasn't able to cope as well as I did before.
Hard as it was to admit. I was no longer up to the job. I was used to thinking on my feet but not now. When you had been on long term sick your holiday entitlement was returned to you when you came back so I had the full 4 weeks. He told HR that he didn't think I would want to take them ....no discussion with me so I had the added pressure of cringing every time I asked for holiday.
They didn't realise that I was not recovering as well as they wanted or as I wanted either; the fatigue was and still is dreadful. Every day round about 2 - 3.30 I felt like I had been unplugged; just totally devoid of energy and felt my head was going to hit the desk; sometimes had to stop the car on the way home and lean up the side of the glass because I hadn't the energy to continue the whole 5 miles in one go.
I couldn't remember things, I was reading things and not really understanding stuff I has started to make a few mistakes which fortunately was able to correct but was very wary of the consequences.
The crunch for me was when they moved the office which meant the toilets were a lot further away, There was nothing that could be done about that and I felt that I wasn't able to mention to my boss who was the man I mentioned previously.
I eventually got the opportunity to talk to the boss above mine who was a woman and she was the same age as me and I think put herself in my position and was able to empathise about it and knew they weren't going to be able to do anything about the location of the toilets which was quite an issue after brachytherapy and was often left sitting in less than dry clothes.
When they announced a redundancy programme I applied and she accepted me for it which I was grateful for I don't think they fully understood the fatigue and the memory and there was a general feeling of not belonging there any more; the guidelines they had was general for who ever had cancer and not for the individual.
Its hard to say they should do more as they still have to keep the company running. I feel lucky to have had all that support from the company and know that a lot of smaller company's could not afford to pay someone for a year still survive and I know had I gone back to HR they would have stepped in and overrode my boss but that is a very difficult step to take when you are working in a small team."

If you would be willing to write a piece for the blog then please get in touch via the contact form

xx Kaz xx

My story of a womb cancer diagnosis by J.B

15/9/2016

Another personal story from a Peach Sister.

"I was diagnosed with womb cancer in December 2015, just 3 months before my 40th birthday. Obviously a cancer diagnosis came as a huge shock, especially to my family, but in a way at the time it was a weight off my shoulders.
I’d had over a year of progressively worsening bleeding, and was having to take changes of clothes everywhere with me and go through the embarrassment of leaks and haemorrhaging at work. Despite blood tests, ultrasounds and repeated smear tests all I was diagnosed with was severe anaemia. My GP thought that changes with my cycle were due to PCOS, my loss of weight (yes I am a larger lady) and an increase in exercise. So at the end of my tether I went back begging for something to be done; my life had become nothing more than an existence. Going out had to be well planned and the sheer exhaustion from the constant bleeding was to much. My husband was in despair that he couldn’t do anything, plus he had the worry of having to see what I was going through.
So in November 2015 I was packed off to Care UK with a referral for a Mirena coil. I had a consultation and was told there was at least a three month waiting list, but at the next appointment they’d fit the coil and also do a hysteroscopy. I left that appointment in tears. I honestly thought I would never make it because I would have bleed to death.
By now I’d had severe bleeding and numerous haemorrhages constantly for 3 months. So when I had a call with a cancellation for the beginning of December I couldn’t wait. I knew it would take time for things to settle down, but that hope of something being done was indescribable.
So on a cold, wet morning I travelled the 20 miles to the Care UK portable cabins for the procedure. The consultant was friendly and went through my medical history. He was concerned about the volume of blood loss, but was happy that I was going to have the hysteroscopy so he could identify any other reason for such loss especially with the results of my previous tests. So with jokes like “Do you have a womb with a view?” the procedure was started. I watched the monitor as the interested, noisy person I am. The look on the consultants face as he quickly asked the nurse to turn the monitor away and to prepare for a biopsy.
That was the moment I knew I had cancer. The room went quiet and the necessary things were done. I was left on the other side of the curtain to get dressed, which was quite a challenge if you can image the scene. I listened as he rang for a courier straight away to collect an urgent biopsy for referral. I was handed a leaflet and told I’d be contacted within the next two weeks by the NHS as I was being referred back to their care.
It was actually only a week before the appointment letter arrived. The following week my husband and I arrived early as requested at the hospital and I was sent to Ultrasound for a scan. Here they asked what I was being scanned for, but other than saying I had a Gynaecology Oncology appointment I didn’t know what they were looking for specifically. At this stage no one other than the voice in my head had spoken the word cancer. So back in clinic I was greeted by the doctor and a Macmillan nurse, who were having a conversation about treatment plans and how my case would be discussed at a MDT meeting in the next couple of weeks. It then dawned on the doctor that I hadn’t been given my diagnosis. She was under the impression that Care UK would have already told me as they were the ones who had done the tests. But in hindsight realised that if they were to give me an appointment it would have been at a much later date.
I left that appointment knowing that I finally had an answer, hence the relief I felt and a bag full of information leaflets. It was my poor husband who despite my hints in the week after the hysteroscopy, was absolutely floored by what the consultant had said. I was going to be getting help with what I was going through, but for him it was about his wife having cancer.
I told family and friends, many of whom had witnessed my struggle, over the next couple of weeks. I can’t cope with secrets and having to go through an illness in secret would have just caused me more stress than what I or my family needed.
I was also aware, that through this process to this point, I had never knowingly ever heard of womb cancer; ovarian and cervical, yes, because they’re the ones as women we're told about, but if I hadn’t heard of it, then many of the other women I knew probably hadn’t either.
The wait for appointments and MDT meeting outcomes occupied my Christmas and New Year. Those long nights whilst my husband worked, my darkest.
I obviously was still experiencing blood loss daily, psychologically dealing with knowing I had cancer, wondering if I would be alive this time next year to see another Christmas or New Year and trying to maintain some form of normality. But despite everything, I got to February and my surgery date.
I had my surgery at St Mary’s hospital on 4th February 2016, where Prof. Edmondson did a total hysterectomy with lymph node removal. Everything went textbook and I came through everything well. Hospital was as expected, but being on a general Obs and Gynae ward was hard when a new mother with complications and baby were put in the bed next to me. The overwhelming panic that swept over me, was like nothing I had ever experienced before. An amazing nurse moved them at the earliest opportunity, but the realisation that I would never have my own children was beyond overwhelming. Without the support of my husband, this could have been a negative turning point in my journey. Bob-the little bleeder (yes, I did name my cancer), had been removed and he had taken so many other things with him.
An infection in the scar, after the staples were removed left me having the cavity packed by the district nurses daily for 2 months. I recovered well from the surgery itself, apart from a torn muscle which I got the night before I left hospital, which still is continuing to cause me pain and discomfort. In April 2016 I started two weeks of brachytherapy treatment at The Christie's in Manchester. The team as expected were wonderful. I felt cared for, if that makes sense.
I now find myself a few months on from the end of my treatment plan. I’m as cancer free as they can confidently say. I’m now recovering! It’s now that I feel the uphill struggle of this whole process. Our lives were turned upside down and another chapter added to the story of my life. I’m going through the menopause (and that hit me like a ton of bricks) and dealing with some issues caused by having the surgery and brachytherapy, but I can say I’m here, recovering and with the opportunity to plan ahead and write that next chapter.
I have good days, bad days and dark days. I’m grateful to have an amazing support system in my family and friends, but most of all, I’m grateful to my husband who has been with me at every stage. He’s held my hand, cried and laughed with me and been my rock. Sometimes during this journey, I felt that he was the one who needed support. I’ve consciously been aware that I’m not alone in this journey. Cancer has taken things away from me, but they’ve also taken them from him.
Over the last 8 months I have witnessed an increased public awareness of womb cancer, by some amazingly strong Peachy Sisters. Our stories are unique to us, but our bond it strong. Raising awareness and getting everyone, not just women, to discuss periods and other gynaecological issues is so important. Although, I still feel that if I wasn’t thrown into this World, it could still be passing me by. If by sharing our stories, it helps just a handful of other women then it’s an opportunity we must take."

If you are willing to share your story then please message me using the contact form.

xx Kaz xx

Ask Eve Service from The Eve Appeal

14/9/2016

Today.is the 2nd #WombWednesday which is part of The Eve Appeals Gynaecological awareness campaign. They have kindly done a guest blog post explaining about the new service.

" This September is Gynaecological Cancer Awareness Month (GCAM) and The Eve Appeal are raising awareness of all 5 gynaecological cancers; womb, ovarian, cervical, vulval and vaginal.
Throughout GCAM we will be hosting #WombWednesdays through our social media channels to draw attention to womb cancer because, despite it being the fourth largest cancer killer of women and the most common gynae cancer, there is a void of information and awareness regarding this cancer.
Over 9,000 women are diagnosed every year in the UK, and yet we often hear through our Ask Eve Nurse Service that the first time women are aware of womb cancer is when they (or a family member or friend) are diagnosed. This is unacceptable.
The Eve Appeal conducted a scoping exercise into what women wanted. They wanted information that was free, confidential and specialist to gynae issues. Hence, the Ask Eve service was launched in May 2016 to provide much desired information about gynae cancers and encourage prevention and early detection.
Our Nurse Specialist and Ask Eve Team provide a specialist, straight-talking and embarrassment-free service to encourage people to access info on signs and symptoms, treatment and care, including genetic factors (e.g. BRCA) related to gynaecological cancers.
Most womb cancers begin in the womb lining, where the cells that grow are then shed each month as menstrual loss/period. The most common symptom of womb cancer is unexpected bleeding from the vagina – especially in those who have already been through the menopause. Thus, any vaginal bleeding that occurs after the menopause, heavier than normal or between periods, or vaginal discharge, whatever colour, needs to be checked.
If you have any concerns about signs and symptoms of womb cancer (or any gynae cancer), or have been diagnosed or affected by womb cancer, please contact our Ask Eve Nurse for specialist information and advice.
For GCAM and beyond, we are collaborating with other gynae cancer charities like Womb Cancer Support UK. Our aim is to provide a seamless network of services providing information and support, so that at no point in one’s cancer journey are they without someone to turn to for help.
So join us on #WombWednesday to spread awareness of womb cancer!
Ask Eve Nurse-Led Information Service
Freephone:08088020019
Email: nurse@eveappeal.org.uk
Facebook: www.facebook.com/AskEveNurse
Twitter: @eveappeal
Website: www.eveappeal.org.uk
Info on womb cancer: www.eveappeal.org.uk/womb

Many thanks to The Eve Appeal for this post.

xx Kaz xx

My story of a womb cancer diagnosis by Y.J

13/9/2016

Another in our series of personal stories by Peach Sisters..

"I know that I should of had the post menopausal bleeding checked out earlier but my Father was flat on his back due to advanced metastatic prostate cancer.

My journey started on the 30th March this year; what the ultra sound showed looked like a polyp of only 0.8mm. That was a relief as I'd held the cancer thought in my mind for about six months.
The colposcopy nurse said she could remove it but once she saw inside my womb all she could do was take biopsies; this was the first mention of hysterectomy. I now knew it was cancer but had to wait for conformation.
6th April 2016 was the day I saw my consultant. He informed me that I would need a total hysterectomy... ovaries, tubes, womb & cervix.
I felt destroyed about having my cervix removed it just didn't seem fair. I didn't mind about the rest; he was welcome to those bits! He explained that I had a mix of endometrioid and clear cell cancer and that the clear cell was rare and aggressive. The removal of everything was to remove the risk of future cancer.
Mri's and CT scans were followed by next appointment... 20th April. I was still getting my head round all this and using those well worn words 'why me' when I saw my consultant. His words were 'I will operate on Thursday 28th April, not tomorrow but next Thursday' The scans had showed stage 1A but Grade 3 so he wanted to be quick with the op.
As I write this I am now 16 days post hysterectomy, feeling a lot better without the pelvic cramps and the spotting although 'Bodyform's' profits have dropped! I'm wondering if the histology will show I need further treatment?
Also I feel a bit cut off from female support, I live with my Father (80 today) I have one brother and two sons.... MEN all around! That's why Kaz and the ladies at WCSUK are doing such a worthwhile job!
UPDATE! I'm in shock and total amazement! I received a letter from my Consultant yesterday which read:
“We now have the histology report and this confirms that the cancer has been completely removed. It was Grade 2, Stage 1A uterus cancer. You will not need any additional treatment but we will arrange to see you again in clinic in six months.”
I want to marry him!!!"

If you would be willing to share your story then please get in touch using the contact form.

xx Kaz xx

Why is womb cancer not as talked about as other female cancers?

11/9/2016

Since starting WCSUK I have realised that womb cancer, despite being the most common gynaecological cancer, gets very little media attention and is very rarely talked about, even by some of the women that have been diagnosed with it. When even Macmillan don’t include womb cancer in a booklet about female cancers then it shows the uphill struggle womb cancer is having in getting any recognition. Very often, the first a woman knows about this cancer is when she is diagnosed with it.

I have always been open about my diagnosis and treatment – no point running a national support and awareness organisation if I’m not prepared to talk about my own experience but it seems that many other women are somewhat reluctant to do the same.
Everywhere on social media there are women talking about their cancer journeys – countless blogs by women diagnosed with breast cancer ; not so many but there are still some about cervical and ovarian cancer but I’ve only come across a couple of personal blogs written by women with womb cancer.
There does seem to be this reluctance to talk openly about this type of cancer – and I find it hard to understand why. One woman, herself a womb cancer patient, told me that it was “too close to sex” to talk about it openly!!! How are we ever going to raise the profile of womb cancer if women won’t talk about it?
Personal stories are, in my opinion, the best way of raising awareness of any subject, especially cancer. We all have different stories to tell and each one becomes part of the bigger picture and helps to break down the barriers and bring cancer out into the open. For far too long it has been spoken about in hushed voices or “not in front of the children”. This has to stop. 1 in 2 of us will be touched by cancer by 2020 according to statistics – this is not something that you can hide away from for ever.
I have had some very lovely ladies share their stories on the blog over the past 5+ years but we need so many more to come forward and talk about their womb cancer journey if we are to reach the level of awareness that other female cancers have.
If there is a taboo around talking about this cancer then it’s time to break the taboo and make sure that the numbers being diagnosed does not keep on increasing at the rate it currently is (10% a year according to CRUK).If you are prepared to share your story then please contact me at wcsuk@hotmail.co.uk or use the contact form on the website.
Xx Kaz xx