TOMORROW MORNING I’M heading back to work after more than a year off. While that is no doubt a little daunting, this day last year I was starting into 25 sessions of radiation just two weeks after my daughter was born – so that’s certainly giving it some perspective.
I was seven months pregnant when I got the call to say I had cancer just four days before Christmas 2020. I was told my baby would need to come a month early and I’d need radiation and surgery to remove the tumour that was found. Honestly, my overriding emotion was relief.
Relief because I had been warned that the lump didn’t look good from a previous MRI scan and that the baby could have to come two months early so they could remove it. Relief because the biopsy showed the cancer was low grade and that bought me more time to let my baby grow, even if I couldn’t quite make it to the finish line of 40 weeks.
Noticeable symptoms
It started out as a lump that I noticed on my leg during the summer. I said it to my doctor and got an appointment for a scan. Truth be told, I knew by the faces in the room at that initial scan that I was in trouble, but I kept that fear to myself.
I was then sent for an MRI and received a call on my birthday to say that it didn’t look good either. After that, I had a meeting where I was told I probably had sarcoma cancer and my baby may need to come two months early at 31 or 32 weeks.
My husband wasn’t by my side for any of these appointments, Covid saw to that. It was just me and my bump.
I was strangely calm in that meeting, I asked lots of questions and wrote every single thing down. It didn’t really hit me until I left the hospital, got in the car and started to try and explain to my husband that his pregnant wife probably had cancer and his unborn baby would need to come early so I could start treatment. We drove home with the rain pelting down on the windscreen on a miserable December evening, our whole lives turned upside down.
I had a biopsy a few days later, waiting for those results was a rollercoaster of emotions. Up and down, up and down – up when I was talking to family and friends, down when I woke in the middle of the night and my mind would wander to the darkest corner.
I simply didn’t know what was ahead, I didn’t know how aggressive the cancer was. I didn’t know my plan. I didn’t know if this was going to take me away from the little person I was growing.
So when that call came on Christmas week while I was at work, even though it confirmed my cancer was malignant and my baby had to come early, it was manageable. I had a plan and I was ready to take it on. Ella Rose O’Dwyer arrived by c-section on the 1st of February and she was perfect, she still is.
Now, more than a year on she is the happiest little girl, always ready to smile and laugh. She’s made many months that could have been so hard, enjoyable and fun. She has no idea how powerful she is, but I do.
Ella Rose was born on a Monday and I came home on Saturday. As every parent knows, these are really beautiful, special days. But the following Monday morning I had to be in St Luke’s for a scan and to get tiny tattoos on my legs so I could be correctly lined up for the radiation.
Straight into treatment
On the following Friday, I was in again for an X-ray to see if the cancer had spread to my lungs. This happened to be the date of my Dad’s anniversary. He died 20 years previously on that date and I really feel he took care of me on that day, the cancer hadn’t spread.
The following Monday I started five weeks of radiation. It wasn’t that bad, I had a system. I’d wake early and pump milk so there was always a supply when I wasn’t there. I actually enjoyed going in and chatting to the staff there, I called it ‘relaxation’ instead of ‘radiation’ and tried to look at it as a little quiet time in my day just for me.
That’s me putting a positive spin on it, of course, the negative would be that even the logistics of getting there were stressful. At the start, I couldn’t drive as I’d only just had a C-section and I couldn’t let friends drive me to the appointments because cases of Covid were so high then. Nobody was vaccinated back then, apart from health workers.
So we packed up our little newborn and my husband would drop me off, bring her home when I was receiving my treatment and then pack her up again to come and collect me.
The final hurdle was the surgery to remove this lump. I had four weeks in between the radiation and surgery when I could be a ‘normal mam’ on maternity leave. It was never going to be normal. There were lots of happy times but there was a constant dark cloud in the distance.
Surgery
Ella Rose wasn’t allowed in the hospital to see me during my stay because of Covid. That was incredibly hard. The surgery, most importantly, was a success but I didn’t feel so determined or strong anymore. I felt weak and sore and exhausted and also worried about how I’d be able to care for Ella Rose when I was struggling so much to move.
My husband picked up a different woman, I was a bit broken. It was so awkward and painful to even get in the car. That was a hard day but I’ll always remember finally holding Ella Rose in my arms again when I got home and feeling so happy and relieved to be reunited with my little family.
The next few weeks were the worst of it, I couldn’t move very well and everything seemed so heavy and hard. It was difficult. I don’t know if it took weeks or months to get myself back, maybe it’s still happening.
It felt like a snake coming out of old skin, the old skin was everything the cancer had put me through – the worry about Ella Rose coming early, the logistics of the radiation, leaving my baby for the surgery, the long recovery afterwards and how Covid made every single step along the way so much worse.
Sometimes when things felt hard it was genuinely difficult to tell why – becoming a mam for the first time is hard, dealing with Covid is hard and the cancer wasn’t easy either. A triple whammy.
Now, thankfully, the cancer is gone. The pathology report showed clear margins after the surgery, no cancer cells in sight. My checkups since have been perfect and it’s expected to stay that way.
Learning to cope
Initially, when I was diagnosed and throughout the treatment, my primary concern was for my baby. After the surgery, it was clear that while she was thriving, I was not. I needed to work on getting myself back.
I found exercise incredibly healing. I could only do so much with my leg at the start and a short walk was a huge effort. I was told it would be six months before I could run but I was able to do a light jog from around four months after surgery.
Getting out for those walks and eventually runs, physio exercises, weights – all movement made me feel so good, it made me feel strong and capable again. I had brilliant support from my family and friends and while I always had people I could call on, a lot of the time I just needed time by myself to think.
I spent a lot of time walking with Ella Rose digesting what had happened and allowing myself to come to terms with it, not just powering through like I had initially. Those walks weren’t exactly blissful, a lot involved tears, but they were the medicine I needed now the cancer was gone.
It’s now all behind me and I’m so proud of my little family and how we overcame such a big hurdle so early on.
On Valentine’s Day last year, my little baby was just two weeks old, I dressed her in a pink cardigan with love heart buttons for the occasion. I was happy but certainly not carefree, I was starting my radiation the next day.
So tomorrow morning as I head back into the office, maybe I’ll feel some nerves but I’ll remind myself of this time last year and how I’m no longer walking into a ward for cancer treatment.
I’ve done it. I’ve recovered and I’m strong again. The doctors fixed my body and my family, my husband and my baby, healed my heart. This Valentine’s Day I’m going to be more grateful than ever for all the love I have in my life.
Cliodhna Russell is a newsreader and reporter with Virgin Media News, and formerly of The Journal parish.
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