Karma?
This isn’t a particularly easy post for me to make, but because of this week’s question I thought I’d share…

Usually this story is one I only tell people who have known me a fair length of time because, believe it or not, I’m actually a very
private person. However, I was once asked to do some work for the Lavender Trust – at the time I was too busy bringing up my sons so instead here’s my bit in the interests of offering hope…

Good grief - that sounds terribly worthy – I'm not, but the story is.


*****************

Many years ago during the summer of my 21st birthday I had it all – I was at uni studying history with plans to become a primary school teacher, I had my own car, good friends, and a handsome boyfriend who was two years later to become my first husband and as I was also to discover, gay….but that’s another story…


One day I was laying in the bath feeling smug about my perfect life when I noticed a small lump sitting on the top of my right breast, in fact more on the flat part of my upper chest. I thought it strange as I’d never noticed it before and put it down to hormonal fluctuations – surely it would disappear when I’d had my period. So I left it for a couple of weeks waiting for it to go.

It didn’t.

Full of shame and embarrassment I booked an appointment with the nurse at my doctors’ surgery – why the shame and embarrassment?

Need I remind you I was a good catholic girl?
Despite having long since lost my virginity I had not had many boyfriends, I was not accustomed to whipping out my boobs at any drunken opportunity – to my mind (despite obvious evidence to the contrary) I was fat and therefore unattractive – in other words I was pretty much an ordinary young woman.

So with head hung down to hide my burning cheeks I took off my t-shirt and bra to show the nurse the lump I’d found on my breast. She took one look, called me silly for coming to see her and not the doctor and called in my GP. This man had known me all my life – seen me go through measles, chickenpox, german measles, mumps – in fact, you name it, I’d had it. My shame deepened – he was going to see my breasts!

He examined me and told me, "Oh, that’s nothing, just a fibroid adenoma."
A what?
"Very common. Nothing to worry about."

Weeks passed and finally in the late autumn I saw the surgeon. "This lump – yes, probably a fibroid adenoma, but let’s take it out just to be on the safe side"

Fast forward to March – two months before my 22nd birthday.

I go in for day surgery to have this lump taken out – I’m in the hospital at around 8am and have left by 3pm feeling fine but a little sore. Told to come back in a week to have the stitches taken out.


All the other appointments I had attended alone – I’m a very independent person, always have been. This time however my mum came along – I made her sit in the waiting room, as I wouldn’t have her see my breasts!

In the examining room I sat with a nurse, she was probably in her early thirties and was there to help the surgeon remove the stitches and act as female chaperone. The surgeon came in and before he began to attend to the wound he very gently told me that unfortunately the lump hadn’t been a benign fibroid adenoma but instead it was a malignant tumour.

Breast cancer.


When I got up from the emotional number 8 bus which had just run me over my first question, the obvious question, “Am I going to die?” And to his credit he didn’t lie to me or fob me off – he was completely honest, “I don’t know. Come back this afternoon, speak to a colleague of mine, an oncologist, and he will be able to tell you more.”

He then took out the stitches, squeezed my hand and wished me good luck. Then he went to get my mother. I was left with the nurse who simply kept repeating, “Oh please don’t cry! Don’t cry, please don’t cry!”

I drove myself and my mum home – she’d already phoned my dad who happened to be having a day off. I don’t honestly remember much about those few hours between being told and then going back to the hospital in the afternoon. Except that I truly believed I would die within the year. I went for a shower and stood under the water sobbing with regret that I would never be married, never have children, never have a life. Then I began to pull myself together – the strangest things get you through times like these – I kept on thinking of all the young servicemen who had been killed in wars – they would have been a similar age to me and they were dead now. If they could get through it, so could I.

The next six months passed in a daze – I had been reassured that I was not terminal, everything had been caught at an early stage. However because of my age they needed to be sure that that I didn’t have a reoccurrence. I had chest x-rays, a bone scan, ultrasounds of my liver and then the treatment.

First off was six weeks of radiotherapy – just like having an extended x-ray – three times a week for about 20 minutes at a time. During those six weeks I wasn’t allowed to wear deodorant or even talc because they would interfere with the treatment. The skin on my breast and under my arm became reddened then sores opened – I had to wear a t-shirt under a bra like some sort of bizarre female superman.

Around the same time I also began a regime of chemotherapy – I was lucky my hair didn’t fall out, but I had it all cut off to a short crop just in case. After the radiotherapy finished I spend a week in hospital alone in a lead-lined room with five radioactive wires skewering my breast and no one was allowed to visit me for more than fifteen minutes a day to protect them from the radioactivity.

Throughout the entire six months no one would have known I was ill – I looked just the same, yes I’d cut my hair and I was a little tired, but I didn’t lose any weight or look ill. I saw other patients – thankfully mostly old – come and go, many of them dying, including a young woman only a few years older than myself who had two young children.



Karma? I did wonder for a long time what I’d done in a previous life to deserve this.

But…..



Fast forward six years – I’m divorced from the handsome gay man and have remarried. One month after the wedding we decide to start to try for a family – no hanging about as I had been warned that I may find it difficult or even impossible to conceive because of all the treatment.


And that’s where the Karma comes in….

First attempt.

Twins.

Non identical twins – that’s two eggs – in other words, don’t sit to close to men on buses as you are über-fertile.

Healthy pregnancy, boys delivered full term and large – both around seven pounds.


That was ten years ago. I continue to go for regular mammograms but my chances now of developing cancer are the same as anyone else.



If that’s Karma, I can deal with it.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 11:34, 33 replies)

Hurrah!
Hurrah for stoicism, no-nonsense doctors, the NHS, and - of course - hurrah for chickenlady.

*makes mental note not to sit next to her on bus*
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 11:43, closed)

Proof, if any were needed
as to why I consider you to be a truly exceptional human being.

x

[edit] And further proof of course ladies and gentlemen, that Chickenlady most defintiely does not do anything by half...
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 22 Feb 2008, 11:45, closed)

Hooray and Hurrah
I know this board is supposed to be about teh funnies but this sort of thing really makes me smile!

Good on ya girl!
( rjmrjm, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 11:50, closed)

Yay!
Gotta love a happy ending.
( Afinkawan Yes I can hear you Clem Fandango, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 11:53, closed)

Yey for chickenlady \o/

I like this QOTW as alot of it is full of lots of happy endings, and like an American film producer I'm a sucker for happy endings!
( Naked Ape call me Caitlyn, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 11:57, closed)

Amazing.
I love it when inspirational tales get told here!

Hurray that you got through it, and hurray that you tell it so well!

*cleek*
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 12:09, closed)

Hurrah chickenlady!
You rock!!
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 12:13, closed)

Started badly...
...but the payback's a winner. Well done, good luck, and you've made me go all dewy eyed too. *clicks*
( Fathter Puddytat Kill Kill dat widdle boid is mine on, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 12:13, closed)

Congratulations
After what you'd been through, that's so good you had healthy children right away like that. This story made me sad... then happy. (It also made me do an impromptu breast exam!)
(AlfishKK, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 12:19, closed)

@ AlfishKK
Glad it made you do a breast exam.

And the chaps should check both their moobs and their balls while they're at it!
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 12:23, closed)

Ok

moobs - Checked

Balls - Checked

Prostate....

Nnnnurghhees ahhaha oooh

Checked

*washes finger*
( Naked Ape call me Caitlyn, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 12:30, closed)

My cousin
is living proof that cancer doesn't discriminate. She's 33, vegetarian, doesn't drink, doesn't smoke and exercises regularly (or did). She's now on herceptin, following chemo and radiotherapy for breast cancer.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Fri 22 Feb 2008, 12:30, closed)

@DG
True.

I've never smoked, never been much of a drinker, always exercised and generally led a healthy life.

I think when I was diagnosed at 21 I was the youngest woman in the UK to have it...since then there has been a girl in her late teens - she had her eggs frozen just in case.

And I've been lucky enough never to need take any other drugs subsequently.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 12:40, closed)

I'm glad everything turned out OK,
as it seems that for so many people it doesn't.

Case in point - my parents' next door neighbour is in her 40's and has just developed terminal cancer - and it's certainly not karma, as she's one of the nicest women I know.
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 12:42, closed)

Whew.
My oldest sister and my mom both had breast cancer. Mom opted for a mastectomy, while my sister chose a lumpectomy. Unfortunately for the sister it returned and she had to have a mastectomy after all, combined with radiation and chemo. We have a picture of her standing next to Dad, both of them totally bald and both grinning.

Both have made full recoveries.

After all of that, my youngest sister still refuses to get a mammogram because of the discomfort involved. "But you don't die from breast cancer!" she said.

My youngest sister is an absolute twit.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 22 Feb 2008, 12:45, closed)

Hi Chickenlady
I'm not convinced about Karma, but I am very fond of nice people that do nice stuff.

All the best,

Bean
(A Bean Countin' Man Takes off socks to count past 10, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 12:45, closed)

@ Slaughter
Sadly that's so often the case and also one of the deciding factors in me posting this story - everyone knows someone who has developed cancer and so many of them die, especially if they're young it seems.

I think it's really important that we all know that cancer doesn't have to be a life sentence and it doesn't need to dominate your life - it was just a minor blip in mine.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 12:49, closed)

And now we know why.....
...you have a lust for life and grab every opportunity that it gives you.

Have fun and hurray for your twins.
( girlinthehole, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 13:03, closed)

Cap doffed to Our Lady of Chickens
'Nuff said.
(osok Rebel without a clue, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 13:16, closed)

Can't add anything
that hasn't been said already.

Hear hear to all of it.

Good on ya Chickenlady.

*click*
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 13:30, closed)

My wife
was diagnosed with Cancer at 29...another veggie strangely enough. All OK now.

The truth is, as long as you seek treatment AS SOON AS YOU SEE SYMPTOMS there are many many illnesses that have a worse prognoses.

So listen up: get those lumps, bumps and blemishes looked at. If you develop an unusual cough that won't go away, get a chest x-ray. Changes in your POO, see a doctor.

AND MEN that advice counts double for you. The UK health service is very engaged with the needs of woman, but us chaps can go from 16 to 50 without so much as a blood pressure check...for fuck sake go and see the doctor.
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Fri 22 Feb 2008, 13:41, closed)

Simply Put
*click*
( ogwen69 has returned from Reddit, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 13:41, closed)

Wow, you've got guts
I'm so glad you made a full recovery. And the gift of falling pregnant on the first attempt with healthy twins - well, that's the sweetest cherry to have on the top.

*hugs, snogs and a click*
( Tourette's ( . )( . ) has a monkey hair in her fried egg, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 13:49, closed)

'Twasn't karma with the twins, they were your reward
This just reinforces my hedgerow nursing theory that 98% of the people who develop cancer are the kindest, strongest, most grounded and compassionate salt-of-the-earth types possible. I swear, all my hospice patients with cancer are these great people that I would have loved to have met years before.

Big MWAH and a hug for you. I'm so glad you escaped that time. May you continue to crack us up bless us with your presence.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 14:43, closed)

Well done Chickenlady
Delighted to hear that you've made a full recovery and you've been blessed with offspring!

I lost a family member over new-year from the big C, so it's nice to hear of folk who've been diagnosed with the cancer and have turned round and kicked that cancer right in the happy-sacks.

*clicks* - with joy and delight
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 14:50, closed)

@ TDub
Thanks, that's very kind of you to say...but I suspect that developing cancer does in its own twisted way improve you as a person - well did me, anyway. I realised that life is too short to do anything less than enjoy yourself and ultimately please yourself - that way at least one person is happy.

Sadly it does mean that there are often a swathe of exhausted men or burnt out rabbits trailing behind me....
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 14:51, closed)

Thanks for such an inspirational post....
....I'm really glad that you're okay now and life is treating you well. It's made me really appriciate the small things in life that we take for granted. Have a click! X
( DUMBLONDE is a rubber lover girl, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 16:47, closed)

...
I love the image of someone sitting close to you on a bus and getting you preggers through sheer force of will (and fertility)

Seriously though, I'm glad it all worked out, so have a click (and also for writing style, which is, as usual, very good).
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 17:31, closed)

Karma
Good for you. Brought a sniff to the nose did that; glad all is well now!

Morse
(morse, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 19:08, closed)

^^all of the above
the big C is beatable - if that's a word - and I love to hear positive stories.

*click*
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Fri 22 Feb 2008, 19:17, closed)

Friday happiness!

Karma works in all kinds of ways, and that story made me smile with the general loveliness of it all Ms Chicken!
(Chevron71 is oscillating wildly...., Sat 23 Feb 2008, 2:33, closed)

Max w00tage for chickenlady!
My mum's just got through her chemo, so it's nice to read another happy ending. Her next birthday cake will bear the icing: "Easy to live with, harder to kill".
(all my scars face forward possesses 2.5% of a hyperalloy combat chassis, Mon 25 Feb 2008, 12:03, closed)

Go chickenlady
have a well deserved click
(Siouxfan I'm not staring at you, I am just short sighted, Mon 25 Feb 2008, 13:53, closed)