Drugs, Drugs, Drugs

Drugs, drugs, drugs, like patching up a sinking boat

I think sometimes when those outside the cancer world imagine what treatment is like they think we go in, have some chemo, take some photos dancing around our IV pole and then go home and rest for a few days…. And don’t get me wrong I’m one of those people who have taken a cheeky chemo selfie and donned numerous items of leopard print to get me through those loooooooong days in the chemo ward, it’s like armour for what is essentially ritual poisoning! 

The serial killer inside me

I’m 36 and I walk around with a serial killer inside of me. One day soon, almost certainly before my 40th birthday, that serial killer is going to break free and end my life in a slow and painful way. To delay this from happening I’ve had to fill my body with poison (some of the drug boxes actually have skull and crossbones warning signs on!).

A Real Life Accounts of Accessing Clinical Trials

Clinical trials

In 2018 I was diagnosed with secondary breast cancer in my liver, I was 44.

I knew the survival statistics were grim, so decided from the outset, in order to outlive the 2 to 3-year median I’d have to embrace experimental drugs and treatments.

I made this clear during my first oncology appointment, telling my doctor I was keen to sign up for clinical trials right from the start.

Aren’t you a bit young to have a pacemaker

Aren’t you a bit young to have a pacemaker

Stage 4 breast cancer with a pacemaker

Most people know someone with a pacemaker, and chances are that person will be elderly. The average age of a first pacemaker implantation in the UK is 72, but pacemakers are actually fitted in people of all ages from newborn babies to the very elderly. I was 39 when I had mine, which was needed as a complication after heart surgery to replace my aortic valve and root.

What’s so bad about fears and tears?

I’m 36 years old and I’m dying of secondary breast cancer. As a result I’m petrified 24/7. I’m currently waiting for scan results that will tell me if my current

Supportive Care

As a secondary breast cancer patient living with an incurable disease, I feel very strongly about wording.  Wording like fight, battle and lost/loosing.  Words matter. So, I also think that

A good thing? F*** off!

Soon after my diagnosis with secondary breast cancer aged 33 someone tried to explain to me that my diagnosis could be viewed as a good thing. I don’t know why