Natalia

At the age of 20 and studying social anthropology at St Andrews University, I felt really driven to be successful. So far things had gone well. 

In April 2015, 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. It was suggested I have a fine needle aspirate which ruled out TB and sarcoidosis. My consultant then decided to take a biopsy of the lump.

Diagnosis 

I distinctly recall the day I went for my biopsy results. I felt fairly confident that everything was fine and that I had a simple infection; I had no symptoms and felt really healthy. My friend said she 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 went into the consulting room and noticed a nurse was there, holding some information. I suddenly started to panic. 'The biopsy results confirm you have classical Hodgkin lymphoma'. 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.

As I left the room I felt lost like never before

Natalia

The PET scan was carried out 2 days 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 4A. I thought I would be stage 1 or 2 at most given how well I was feeling.

Treatment and side effects 

I was given the option of moving to a hospital with a Principal Treatment Centre for teenagers and young adults. However, I decided to stay at the hospital I was diagnosed in for 2 reasons. Firstly, and most importantly, I felt confident in my doctor, but also it was far easier for me to get to. I was the youngest on the ward by far, but I really appreciated the banter and support from everyone. 

I remember quite a few people asking me what I was going to do about university. At the time, with PET scan results, starting treatment and everything that faced me, this was not on my mind at all. I emailed the university simply explaining the situation and saying I wouldn’t be going back until the following September. I felt no obligation to worry about anything else for the foreseeable future – survival and finishing treatment were my only priorities. I started ABVD chemotherapy straightaway.

While everyone around me seemed to be struggling with ABVD treatment, I had virtually no side effects.  From the second treatment onwards, I was out horse-riding and taking my dog for walks straight after treatment and had a pretty normal appetite. I actually reached a point where I was convinced that they weren’t putting drugs into me; it wasn’t 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. At the time of collecting my wig I still had all my hair, which was really thick and healthy. The wig didn’t phase me because I never thought I was going to need it. However, by my second chemotherapy session a rather dramatic and noticeable amount of hair was starting to shed. I now hated the thought of the wig with its fakeness and overstyling; it just was not me at all. Instead, I began to comb all my hair back, wear a pony-tail and avoid all pictures.

The plan had always been to have 2 cycles of ABVD, followed by a PET scan, and based on that, reduce the drugs to AVD, removing the bleomycin (B), which can cause long term lung damage. However, the PET scan results after the first 2 cycles showed that my chest was still affected. I needed to change to a more toxic chemotherapy, advanced BEACOPP. I had a PICC line inserted and I was to go from having treatment once every 2 weeks for 2 hours to having to stay in hospital for 4 nights at a time, having 3 hours of drips each day, before returning a week later for a final 30 minute drip, with chemotherapy tablets in between and injections to promote bone marrow production. It was overwhelming, but I managed the BEACOPP well, again with no side effects.

Remission and recovery 

On 11 November 2015, after nearly 6 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 cannot put into words the absolute relief I felt; I could breathe again.

However, I have come 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 7 months I was a 20-year-old cancer patient.

Now, in remission, I am struggling to figure out who I am. I had never really come to terms with having cancer, but now it seems even stranger to think I no longer have it.

Natalia

I am due to start an internship shortly and will then return to university later this year. However, at the moment, I am finding the transitional period after treatment tough. I feel this experience has fundamentally changed me.

Two years on

Two years on, my journey with cancer certainly has not ended.

At a time when everyone thinks you are happy and able to live your life again; when people stop asking whether you are okay and when support systems often fade away, I believe that attending a Live your Life workshop is useful. It can be a place to momentarily offload, share doubts, fears and concerns with others. 

June 2016