Breast Cancer Surgery, Radiotherapy and Choosing Hope

December 2017–2018

Although I was now the patient, I was still a nurse.

I trusted my medical team completely and understood how important it was to follow their advice. At the same time, I wanted to do everything I personally could to support my body through the journey ahead.

From that moment on, I took a long, hard look at my lifestyle, especially the food I was eating. I decided to begin with what I called a gentle cleanse. For three days, I drank only water with fresh lemon.

After that, I lived on fresh fruit and vegetable smoothies for a week before gradually introducing freshly prepared meals back into my diet.

I cut out sugar, alcohol, fizzy drinks, white bread, white pasta and, as much as possible, ultra-processed foods.

I spent countless hours researching nutrition and reading everything I could about cancer. Not because I believed food could cure cancer. But because learning gave me something I desperately needed.

A sense of control. Perhaps it was too little, too late. Perhaps not.

Either way, it helped me prepare mentally and physically for the surgery ahead.

Around six weeks later, my operation was scheduled.

Like many people, I was tempted to postpone it until after Christmas.

Then someone said something that has stayed with me ever since.

“Cancer doesn’t wait.”

Neither should you. Those words stayed with me. So I went ahead with the surgery.

Thankfully, it was successful.

The greatest relief came when further tests confirmed that the cancer had not spread beyond my breast. It was the answer I had been praying for. Recovery, however, was far from easy.

In 2018, I underwent five weeks of daily radiotherapy. Hospital appointments quickly became part of everyday life.

After completing my treatment, I also started taking Tamoxifen, together with anti-inflammatory medication and pain relief as part of my ongoing care.

Physically and emotionally, it was one of the hardest periods of my life.

The surgery left me sore, exhausted and emotionally drained.

Simple things I had always taken for granted suddenly became difficult.

Getting dressed.

Reaching into a cupboard.

Lifting my arm.

Sleeping comfortably.

Some days, simply getting out of bed felt like climbing a mountain.

Every step hurt.

Recovery wasn’t measured in days.

It was measured in patience.

Throughout my treatment, I will never forget the kindness shown to me by the doctors, nurses and every member of staff at the Royal Surrey County Hospital.

They treated me with compassion, dignity and genuine kindness.

I was never just another patient.

 They listened.

They explained.

They reassured.

At one of the darkest moments of my life, they gave me something I desperately needed.

Hope.

I believed the hardest part of my journey was finally behind me.

I was wrong.

Within months, a whole new battle was about to begin. Part three follows.