Marie-Anne:'Because it's breast cancer month, I'm giving the place of my blog to my brave sister Eline this month.'
This month's blog is written by Eline (45), founder of Moedig! for coaching and therapy. Elaine has four children. She was diagnosed with breast cancer three years ago.
Eline: Today, October 1, the 'Breast Cancer Month' starts. A month full of breast cancer. In which awareness, money for new research and treatment methods are widely publicized (funny, I accidentally typed publicity).
Every October I notice that I find this month difficult. I stopped to consider the why:
On December 24, 2012, at the age of 42, 12 days after my just concluded marriage, a 3.5 cm mass was discovered in my left breast. And 4 affected glands in the armpit. breast cancer. "We are not happy with tumors that tend to travel," said a dead serious-looking oncologist, referring to the metastases in my armpit, which gives this disease a significantly less good prognosis. "What you have to do is clear your agenda for the coming year, and undergo all the treatments we pull out of the closet. To know; Mastectomy + axillary gland toilet (freely translated:they remove all the glands from your armpit), radiation, chemotherapy and, according to the latest insights, 10 years of anti-hormonal therapy in the form of tablets. And oh yes, the early Transition. You have to keep your head up and not lose heart.” Not only was I very shaken, my husband (whom I was not allowed to say had married a cat in a sack), my children and step-children, my dear sister, my parents and friends. They all joined. My kids cried when I went bald. I saw my husband pull himself together. My sister came to take care of it with care.
It was no battle, no fight, no battle. I am not a survivor. I haven't really done anything except what the doctor said:keep my head straight on my torso and bear everything patiently. I've been in a lot of pain. Not only about my wounds and treatments, but even more about the grief I saw my children and my loved ones in the first place. In November 2013, all treatments were completed.
So I'm one of those people who talk about breast cancer month. I don't talk much about it except with dear fellow sufferers and with Sister and Man. Nearly three years after diagnosis there are no signs of illness but the cancer is all but out of me. Every day I am confronted with the pains, scars, side effects, hot flashes, edema symptoms and limitations resulting from this disease and treatment. But that's the least. Every day I am aware that there is a chance that this disease has booked a return ticket, and will visit me again. Every day I 'scan' my body when I get up:where does it hurt, what does it feel like today, what is different from yesterday? And in the past two years I have already been faced with diabolical dilemmas:Because when do you go to the doctor with a pain in your back if this could be your announced death? When do you dare to have X-rays taken? How do you deal with the panic and fear that can arise out of the blue? And on top of that:My children live with the awareness that they may lose their mother. When last month a boy from 8th grade asked my son:'Hey Rijk, what are you most afraid of?', he cried and said:' That my mother is dying of cancer.'
So every day is October for me. And because I really hate complaining, I don't talk much about it. I've rebuilt my business, and fair is fair, bigger and stronger than ever. I work full time and have 4 children with my husband. I play sports, ride horses and attend every soccer game of my son. My hair is getting longer and I have had a wonderful breast reconstruction. I will never be the same again. The new one.
And tomorrow, October 1, my husband and I get the key to our new house. The house where we now live, with the bathroom where I first discovered the cancer, where the mirrors hang in which I had to see myself amputated, bald and deathly ill. This house with the garden in which I spent days exhaling the chemo. This one bedroom house I spent so much time in due to illness. I am going to leave this house. October 1 feels like May 1 for the first time.
I sincerely hope that the day will come when breast cancer will only be 1 month, or even 1 day, and eventually may not be in anyone's life at all. And children are never again afraid of losing their mother.
Share this post with everyone so people can see the true, non-pink face of breast cancer. And live, just like I do today, as if it is May 1.'
