In honour of a wonderful woman, Nina Joy

Today's post is in honour of a wonderful woman, Nina Joy, who sadly passed away this week. Nina was a huge supporter of Yes to Life and tackled her relationship with cancer with great humour and grace. We have selected one of her early blogs which reflects her wonderful, upbeat personality. We are really going to miss you, Nina.

Me and my breasts have always had a pretty good relationship. Maybe a bit smaller and perter would have been nice… but that was not my destiny. Think of Marilyn Monroe morphed with Jordan (not the fake tan or pink legwarmers though!) and that would be me then. I was always happy to be a voluptuous girly girl….. because that’s just me. So when they didn’t look quite right, I knew instinctively that something was obviously very wrong………… this was real cause for concern.

So – off I set on the round of appointments and referrals. Of course you always hope that it will be one ot those “95% of lumps turn out to be benign” situations. But because of the change to my nipple, I didn’t think that was the case for me. The GP said to me – “I think you will be fine, cancer does not normally present like this”. I didn’t really believe that to be so. Not because I’m a pessimist – the exact opposite in fact! But just because I did.

When I went to the breast clinic for the first time, I had lots of offers to come with me. No I said….. thinking it would be long and tedious which it was and that I wouldn’t find anything out until I came back for the results, at which time I would ask someone to come with me. How wrong could I be!

I had been in with the consultant about 10 mins max before he pronounced “ooh yes – this is definitely cancer”. When he did the biopsy – taking 6 or 7 samples from the tumour in my very sore and tender right breast – he held the samples up to the light saying “yes – this is definitely tumour”. Gulp. How life can change in a heartbeat.

When I went for my results, with my sister with me for moral support, it all seemed quite academic. I knew it was bad – a large tumour in my right breast which had spread to the lymph glands. This would mean a likely mastectomy, or if the chemo (over the next 5 mths) shrunk it enough, possibly a lumpectomy. Then radiotherapy perhaps. And then 5 years on Tamoxifen.

Deep joy. I had very strong feelings against chemo anyway, and the thought of being butchered and burned (how I see surgery and radiotherapy) well – what can I say. I was devastated by the prospect.

On the other hand – if this is what would cure me, then so be it. I knew that many women before me had got through it and survived and even thrived. If they had, I could.

I needed to get rid of my many negative feelings about chemo – and I began to reframe my thoughts around this. I even had my hair cut really short in preparation for chemo. I thought it would be helpful to be less attached to my blonde locks. My friends and family rallied around me, offering practical and emotional support, all ready for the chemo and getting me through that. This is the path that so many cancer patients take, it’s known, it’s understood. We all know someone who has come through it, and this end justifies the means. Or does it? Deep down I wasn’t particularly convinced, but I didn’t really have many options did I?