It’s Friday 2nd October 2020 and I sit here, in my kitchen writing this blog just as breast cancer awareness month kicks off. This time two years ago I’d just finished my six rounds of chemo and was having a pause before surgery and radiotherapy. I’d been diagnosed with ductal invasive breast cancer in April 2018. Looking back, I now realise that this marked a period where I started the slide from coping to just about functioning.

Because although I completed treatment January 2019, it took another year before I really started allowing myself to get to grips with what had happened. A big part of me finding peace and balance after a truly tumultuous few years was Maggie’s Cancer Centre, and the Where Now course for people who have finished cancer treatment.

Finding my voice, sharing my story

Professionally I help people to find their voice and share their story. And writing this is my way of writing my story. But that implies I know what the story is, but I don’t really. I mean I know the key events, but I’ve never really written the story, and writing here is part of that process.

I worry that it feels egotistical to think that people will be interested in what I have to say. But it’s cathartic and I know how I’ve benefitted from hearing others talk about their life experiences so maybe I can pass that on and help someone else – you?

Being diagnosed with breast cancer

I was diagnosed with ductal invasive breast cancer in April 2018, around six months after relocating to Yorkshire from Bournemouth. I spent nine months having treatment at Airedale Hospital (chemotherapy and surgery) and at the Bexley Wing at St James’ hospital in Leeds (radiotherapy).

Keep on keeping on

I’d adopted a ‘one foot in front of the other’ approach to treatment, lurching from one appointment, scan or treatment to another. It worked up to a point. But I was very aware that I was struggling to keep going. I made it through chemotherapy but began to really struggle after surgery.

I felt physically, mentally and emotionally battered and I knew that I would need support at some point but, felt like I wasn’t ready to start down that road until I had finished treatment. And I still had radiotherapy to do.

It felt too raw and I needed all my energy to get to the end. And I also wanted to find the right place for me. A place that would look at me as a whole person, not just Harriet with cancer.

Band aids and brick walls

Once I’d finished treatment, I ended up sliding into work as a freelance copywriter. I love writing and I love my clients but looking back I took on too much too soon. I think I knew it at the time, but I got caught up in life post treatment. And I suspect I thought it might help me to feel more normal if I was working and being sociable. But I often ran into brick walls – emotionally and physically – and needed to take time out.

These breaks would involve hunkering down at home, long dog walks on the moor and just doing as little as possible. Like a band aid, these little breaks would last just a few days, but I’d then find myself struggling again. I was trying almost too hard to get myself back on my feet, but the foundations were too shaky for it to stick.

Breaking the cycle

I got through 2019 repeating this cycle, but by the end of the year was really struggling. And then Maggie’s in Leeds opened. I visited with Andy on the open day in December 2019, walking through the doors and promptly bursting into tears. I suspect it was the combination of this beautiful, calm space and the knowledge that finally there might be a people in the centre who could help me put myself back together again that set me off.

Even in the shadows of a multi storey hospital car park, Maggie’s is a peaceful and calm space. Open and airy but with quiet corners where you can sit and just be. In the context of brutal, invasive treatment like chemotherapy and surgery it might sound odd, but one aspect of treatment I found profoundly depressing were the hours and hours spent in windowless, airless waiting areas, sitting on uncomfortable chairs.

Chemo lounges full to bursting, squeezed into the corner while hooked up to my drip. Not knowing if the sun was shining or tipping down with rain. It made me feel so much more disconnected from normal life.

Finding a safe place to just ‘be’

Maggie’s was the breath of fresh air I needed. It immediately felt like the safe place I had been looking for. A place where I could finally relax, just be and start to open up and explore what had happened.

I got through Christmas and New Year 2019 but found myself increasingly tearful and wobbly. By this time, Maggie’s was open, and I headed to the centre not really knowing what I needed but knowing that help would be there. I was introduced to Amanda, the centre manager, who sat and chatted with me. She took me through the support on offer, including the Where Now programme. I hadn’t considered a support group, thinking that one to one help was what I needed, but I trusted that Amanda knew what she was talking about. And I signed up. It was the best thing I could have done.

Where now?

With some trepidation I arrived a few weeks later for the first of seven weekly ‘Where now’ sessions. I arrived feeling apprehensive, not really knowing what to expect or whether the three-hour group sessions would help, but it became clear very quickly that I was in very safe hands.  Two professional and experienced facilitators (one a clinical psychologist, the other a specialist cancer nurse) guiding us and the support of a small group of people who’d also been on a similar path.

Each week we explored our cancer a different angle (from partnering with your medical team to healthy eating via managing post treatment changes). A personal trainer would take us through strength and conditioning exercises. And we would have time to just chat, always guided by Emma and Helen. Emma would close each session with a guided relaxation before we headed to the large table outside our meeting space for a group lunch.

The whole person

And that’s what I love about Maggie’s. It looks at the whole person, not just the cancer part of you. The support programme recognises the importance of human connection in helping us to understand ourselves and others. And there’s something so healing and human about sitting around a table and chatting while you share food.

I finished the seven-week ‘Where now’ course feeling calm, balanced and ready to head out into the world again. Just as we headed into lockdown. I am very thankful that I completed the Where now course before lockdown happened.

I know it helped me approach these uncertain times with a sense of balance and strength that had been missing up until that point. I was also lucky in that I didn’t have to shield and that I live in a place where my daily exercise took me up onto Ilkley Moor and all its big sky and fresh air.

What now?

I feel lighter, balanced and more grounded and I gained a fantastic support group. Despite living in different corners of this part of Yorkshire, we regularly keep in touch via WhatsApp (what else). And I love the ‘Where Now’ notebook, especially the recipes. The oatmeal biscuits (known as Maggie’s cookies in this house) are a family favourite while the rest of the notebook is full of prompts, thoughts and ideas.

This well-thumbed notebook sits in the kitchen where we all flick through it. A gentle reminder of what we’ve been through, how far we’ve come and the support that has got me to this point.

Although the course had come to an end, I started having regular one to one conversations with Emma, which proved to be incredibly useful. They gave me the chance to explore, reflect and reframe situations, building on the discussions we had in our group. I went back to the centre at the end of July for the first time since Where Now and Covid 19 – and I did it without crying. Which shows how far I’ve come.

I cannot praise Maggie’s Leeds and the ‘Where Now’ programme enough. Cancer is a hideous disease with a brutal treatment regime that changes you. The Maggie’s Cancer Centres and the people that work and volunteer in them do an extraordinary job of putting us back together.

Thank you for reading,

Harriet