Coping with a cancer diagnosis

They are the words you really never want to hear, “I’m sorry but we found cancer ”. The way I responded was bizarre, there were no tears or shrieks. I remember just my still face while he spoke. Numb. Shock. I remember I didn’t know what to say. He was a concerned consultant who didn’t want to have to say those words, but I guess he has said them a lot of times in his ENT clinic. I listened while he told me what would happen next in the kindest possible way he could and I’m grateful for the gentle way I was treated. My cancer was a throat cancer, lodged in the base of my tongue and it was, undoubtedly, caused by the Human Papilloma Virus, HPV 16. They had recently removed the lump from the side of my neck, which was my one and only symptom. I had many tests and scans over the previous 6 weeks, all denying the presence of this gnawing disease. 

I drove myself the 30 minute drive home, staring at the road, the thoughts and emotions starting to come as realisation hit. I was scared, I was sad, I was lost in a sea of how and what. I stopped the car in a country lane layby, I looked around me at the beautiful countryside fields. Tears brimmed now.  Emotions surged and waved inside. I recognised the normal need for this to emerge and I allowed it for a little while. But, then using the tools of my psychology trade, I gathered myself. I breathed slowly and deeply, I focused on the here and now, the view, the support of the seat and steering wheel where my hands rested. I could feel my rational mind starting to engage, I told myself there were no answers today and my future was not gone, it was just more unknown than before (gone off plan if you like) and when I had more information I could use this knowledge to guide me, but for now I had to try not fill the gap with wild hypotheses of my own.

At this diagnostic meeting that I had recently left, I was introduced to my cancer nurse specialist, John. He was a caring and gentle man who became a great source of information, advice and support throughout my journey, building my faith and confidence that I was being treated for cancer, with an aim of recovery. This was my early and first learning point, just because you hear the words that you have cancer, does not mean you are going to die soon. This is immediately what you think and yes it is serious, and there is a chance you could die of it at some point in the future, but everyone on this planet will die at some point in the future. 

There are some sad and serious exceptions to this statement that I would like to separate and mention here, these being children with cancer and those with a terminal cancer diagnosis, which require different approaches filled with compassion and support. Having supported both my parents with terminal cancer diagnosis aged 69 and 77, I understand the sadness and despair that family feel and the sense of helplessness that accompany these cancer diagnoses.  

Gathering information about the type of cancer you have, to understand what you are dealing with, to reduce the frightening panic the word cancer induces, is essential in keeping a balanced and calm(ish) approach to help you feel in a little more control. John helped me understand the specific information related to my cancer, which was hugely helpful emotionally for me, allaying many fears. Yes I was scared and there was plenty of fear and anxiety. Fear about the real stuff that was happening and was going to happen in a treatment schedule that was harsh: would it hurt, would I lose my ability to talk and eat temporarily or permanently? I dealt with these in a day to day way, being supported by specialists in the hospital and most disruption was temporary, and the longer term issues are manageable considering I have my life back.

Initially, there was anxiety about how and when I would tell my children and my husband and how it would impact their lives; as a mother you don’t want to be a source of pain and hurt for your children. My second major learning was to have faith in your family who are there for you just as you are for them.  I was so nervous before telling them, and there was shock and upset in that instance in different ways for my husband and all of my children, but with careful words and love surrounding us, they coped with hearing the news; they slowly adjusted and they began to get on with what they could do to help. This is the nature of human love, faith and courage, which emerges in a crisis when everyone in that unit pulls together and keeps communicating. 

Knowing I was not going to die anytime soon, that I could fight this disease with both technological and human expert help, and that I had the support of my family, definitely helped balance the scales on which the heavy weight of a cancer diagnosis sat. 

Cancer information and support can be found from Cancer Research UK and Macmillan.