Gem’s StorY
I felt fairly confident that everything was fine and that I had a simple infection. I had no symptoms and felt really healthy.
In July 2017, I noticed a lump on my neck. It was just a lump, I had no other symptoms whatsoever. I went to see my GP who thought it best to have it checked out. Four weeks later I received an appointment to go for a scan at Southmead Hospital. The consultant then decided to take a biopsy.
I distinctly recall the day I went for my biopsy results on 16th August 2017. I felt fairly confident that everything was fine and that I had a simple infection. I had no symptoms and felt really healthy. My boyfriend said he would come along with me and although I didn’t feel this was necessary, I was glad of the company.
But in the waiting room, I started to feel nervous. I thought I was here for blood tests. I went into the consulting room and was introduced to my consultant Caroline. She asked if it was okay if a nurse came in. The door opened and in walked a Macmillan nurse! I noticed she was holding some information. I suddenly started to panic. “The biopsy results confirm you have classical Hodgkin lymphoma”, I was told. It felt like someone had just walloped me across the face. I began to see black and out of nowhere I started crying uncontrollably. As I left the room, I felt lost like never before.
The PET scan was carried out a week later. I felt really alone and vulnerable during the time I was left on my own for the scan. It was a perfect time to overthink things. I was shocked to discover that I was stage 3B. I thought I would be stage 1 or 2 at most, given how well I was feeling.
I was told I had to start a long six months of ABVD chemotherapy. However, before I could start this, because I don’t yet have a family (which is something that means a lot to me), I was told I’d have to have fertility treatment. I was 31 and thought I would be starting my family naturally some time soon. I couldn’t believe I was now going for treatment to freeze my embryos! I was told it was important to start chemotherapy asap. All my plans were put on hold: my holiday was cancelled and my charity skydive had to be postponed.
“From the second treatment onwards, I was going out on daily walks, going into work as often as I could and I had a pretty normal appetite.”
While everyone around me seemed to be struggling with ABVD treatment, I had virtually no side effects. From the second treatment onwards, I was going out on daily walks, going into work as often as I could and I had a pretty normal appetite. I actually reached a point where I was convinced that they weren’t putting drugs into me – it couldn’t be normal to feel this way. For my own mental sanity, I weirdly wanted to be ill. I needed the confirmation that the drugs were working.
Having said that, I found losing my hair difficult. By my second chemotherapy session a rather dramatic and noticeable amount of hair was starting to shed. My beautiful friends bought me a wig and were by my side when it was time to shave all my hair off. I now hated the thought of the wig with its fakeness and over styling. It just wasn’t me at all, and surprisingly I actually became proud of my short hair and never got round to using my wig. Instead I just embraced the short hair, wore big earrings and avoided photos as much as possible.
On 13 March 2018, after nearly six months of chemotherapy treatment, countless tears and incredible support, I was told my PET scan was negative. This meant that I was in remission. I remember feeling euphoric. However, I soon came to realise that cancer doesn’t simply end when you get the all clear. Instead I find myself living in fear and confusion. The fear that was once physical has now become emotional. For the past seven months I’ve been a 31-year-old cancer patient. I don’t think I’ve ever really come to terms with having cancer, but now it seems even stranger to think I no longer have it. One thing it has made me realise is how precious life is. And how amazing my friends and family are for supporting me through what was the hardest period of my life so far.