On 3rd October 2024 something very important happened to me, something that marked the end of an era…

On 3rd October my Oncologist said I could stop taking Tamoxifen thus ending a 10 and a half year journey with my treatment for breast cancer. Praise the Lord and flip the bird at the Big C. 

Tamoxifen (or Tamoxibollocks as it’s sometimes known) has been a daily constant for 9 and a half years of that treatment journey. It is a hormone therapy medication that blocks the effects of oestrogen on hormone receptor-positive breast cancer cells. My cancer thrived on oestrogen so it was a no brainer to ride the Tamoxifen train to boost my chances of survival.

During chemo, my Oncologist said ‘don’t hate the treatment, hate the cancer’. That was excellent advice and I’ve tried to keep that front of mind while Tamoxifen has dished out constant fatigue, hot flashes, joint pain, dry and itchy skin, mood changes, thinning hair and hair growing in places it shouldn’t (most recently very long blonde hairs from my tail bone like I was morphing into a pony!!). 

Add to that ongoing anaemia, weight gain and (hoorah) more weight gain. I won’t blame it for stopping my periods and preventing me having more children, because chemo and zoladex had a role in that too – and none of this treatment and medication would have been necessary were it not for the evil cancer in the first place.

Now I want to be clear here, I am blessed. I  am so grateful to be alive and to share my life with my husband and our beautiful boys. Countless others I met on my journey were not as lucky. Too many lost their lives or have to live with the shadow of secondary breast cancer. I really am one of the lucky ones.

Still, the reality of the past 10.5 years of cancer treatment and recovery have changed me beyond recognition.

I was pregnant with our youngest son when I was diagnosed. I was a young and healthy 39 year old. I felt beautiful and happy in my own skin. My husband and 3 year old son were my World. All I longed for was a baby to complete our family.  My prayers were answered when I fell pregnant…just weeks before my cancer diagnosis. 

My oldest son was traumatised by Mummy’s bad lump. He pined for me each hospital stint. He fretted over whether I’d lose my hair. My youngest son has only ever known Mummy with one breast and some very ugly scars. After reconstruction he grew used to my one surviving breast and a rather ugly, hairy mound made from my stomach, totally different in size and shape and missing a nipple. I never went through with the reconstructed nipple. My father in law from my first marriage taught me ‘you can’t polish a turd’ and I decided my reconstructed monstrosity would be no less of a turd with a tattooed nipple.

Over the last 10 and a half years I have had several scares thinking the cancer had returned. This paranoia is hard to overcome. My very patient Oncologist has supported me through self diagnosed tonsil cancer (that was actually just tonsil stones), a fatty lump in my buttock (harmless), unexplained vaginal bleeding (also turned out to be harmless) and lesions on my ribs which proved to be benign and will need monitoring. 

An arterial thrombosis 4 years ago was my bodies second real attempt at killing me. This could have been caused by my cancer meds but was most likely triggered by trauma courtesy of my wicked birth family who I am thankfully estranged from. I’m sure it must have irked them deeply that I survived haha. I now take lifelong blood thinners to prevent further clots and reduce the risk of a stroke. Sometimes I think I’m like a cat with 9 lives but my heart tells me it’s our Angel baby Pablo watching over me.

What this journey has taught me is how fragile and precious life is. I know that sounds twee but it’s true! I have done many  wreckless and silly things in my youth and I wish I’d known then, what I know now. I wish I’d respected my body more. Treated it more more kindly. Made smarter decisions. I wish I’d rid myself of toxic people sooner and held those who loved me, closer. These are all lessons I will teach my sons. 

What this journey has also taught me is that I’m a bad ass warrior. That I look to the future even though my body has been ravaged, my identity challenged. I have absolutely no idea if cancer will come knocking again. I’ve researched the data but as my Oncologist said ‘you are not a statistic’.

He’s right. What I am, is a brave, good person. I am loved. I feel pride and satisfaction that I made it through my cancer treatment and can say goodbye to Tamoxibollocks some 10 and a half years post diagnosis.

This blog is dedicated to Nick, Leo and Henry for keeping me alive and still thinking I am beautiful, scars and all xxx