Breast Cancer survivor Jane Granville shares part 2 of her moving story
How do you tell the people you love the news you know will devastate them?
After my diagnosis, my husband and I pulled up outside the house – my stomach was in knots as I faced the kids. How do I do this – what are the right words?
I had to take a minute to work out how I was going to tell them I had cancer.
Cancer is one of the scariest words in the world, as soon as you tell someone you have cancer, their faces change. I know this, because I have reacted the same when someone told me they had cancer – its instinct, the pity face is evident for anyone to see. Except from your kids, their faces – well they just have fear written all over them.
It had already been an extremely hard few months, especially as Ellie was with me when I found my LUMP, there wasn’t anything I could have sheltered them from, as I was going through all the tests.
I had to go in and be positive, if I wasn’t scared, they wouldn’t be scared, that was my logic. You have to understand, these 2 are my babies, these 2 kids are the reason I get up in the morning and smile, I waited all my life for these 2 humans, they were my everything, so I had to find a way to tell them without them panicking.
I walked through the door. “Come on Jane, you can do it, you have to be strong for them”, I told myself as I walked through the living room door. They were there in front of me, waiting already and I could see my planning was pointless. They were scared stiff, and I had to act quick – although as Richard and I sat down with them, I didn’t even get time to say anything.
Ellie said: “Mum do you have cancer?” I wasn’t prepared for this, I had it planned in my head, how I was going to say it, it was going to be ok, but at no point did I imagine her just asking the question. It took my breath away for a second, now there was no other answer but to say yes. The tears came, lots of tears, tears, from all of us now, because up until now it was somebody else telling me I had cancer, now they were my words to say.
“YES, I HAVE BREAST CANCER”
Once all the tears subsided, I sat down with them and told them exactly what was going to happen, that within 10 days I would be in the hospital, and the consultant was convinced he would not need to remove my breast. I am not convinced this made any difference to them,I mean, it was hard for me to take in, we just had to take things one day at a time.
I think for them, I had cancer, there were no positives, and I think I understand that more today than I did then. The next massive hurdle was to tell my parents. After telling the kids I had cancer, I suppose in truth nothing was ever going to feel as bad as that did, but of course they were also scared. My biggest struggle all the way through this was always admitting I had cancer, as I said it is a word everyone in the world is frightened of, and that included me. Mum and Dad listened while I also explained to them what the next couple of weeks would hold. I never asked them were they ok, they only knew what I had told them, I was exhausted at this point. I didn’t want questions – I was still reeling and I just wanted a chance now to take it in myself.
I’d brought all the booklets home from the hospital, in fact, a whole bag full, with good intentions to read – but the first thing I did after telling the kids was to put the books in the cupboard.
I didn’t want to read any of them, I didn’t want to know anything, I just wanted to put it as far back in my mind as possible.
I didn’t want this to take over my life, I just wanted this to be a blip, I could cope with a blip – I couldn’t have coped with knowing anything about what type of cancer it was, that was the doctors job, all I needed to do was put all my faith in them.
Telling the world – via social media
At the time of my diagnosis, I was working in One Stop in North Cornelly/ Tesco Express, meaning I worked within the community. I knew that in the village that I lived, this was eventually going to get out, and the one thing I was dreading more than anything was the pity face. There genuinely was no way I was going to be able to keep this a secret. Maybe if the kids hadn’t known, maybe I could have done things differently, not that I think that would have been me, so there was only one thing to do, and that was to just get it out there. I didn’t want people walking the other side of the road, I didn’t want people to feel obligated when they saw me in the shop to ask how I was, I didn’t want people to ignore me or talk behind my back.
So – I made the decision to put it out on social media.
Looking back now, it was definitely the right decision for me and my family. It was out there now, and again I feel it was all too due to what I wrote, after my diagnosis we never carried on referring it to cancer, I referred to it as my ‘DODGY TIT (excuse the language), it was easier to speak about it like that, and in fact it worked, because it didn’t just lighten the situation for me, it lightened it for family and friends t0o. It was such a sense of relief, because now that most people that knew me knew I had cancer and I didn’t have to tell them all individually. This now gave me the opportunity to come to terms with it myself and to prepare myself for the next step. My surgery.
Facing my fears and going for treatment
Wednesday the 10th of May 2017, we made our way down to Neath Port talbot hospital, I had to be there for 7.30 in the morning, I was only due to be in for the day, as quick as that home in the same day. Nil by mouth , to those that know me this wasn’t going to be a good day, I love my food, but it was only a day , couldn’t hurt could it?
I was allocated my bed, right by the window over looking the carpark to the hospital, at least I could just look out the window and watch the world go by. A nurse came around and told me I was 3rd on the list I should be going down around 11.30 – that was ok, the sooner the better as far as I was concerned. There were around 6 of us on the ward, not all us having the same operation, which was good in a way, it can be very overwhelming actually knowing you are all there for the same reason, it just goes to show how cruel life can be, when a lady of 80+ was in the bed opposite and having the same treatment as me. I thought how cruel she had reached this amazing age, and she was going through this too.
I changed into my glamorous operation gown – no makeup, which is rare for me but at least my hair looked nice, phew. The consultant was the first one to come around, with a few students.
‘Here we go’, I thought. The consultant asked me if I was ok with the students being there, what could I say, these will become the doctors of the future. Next question was could they examine my lump. One by one they came around and examined the lump and the surrounding area.
I later found out Richard found this very hard to witness, he never said much but this had made him sad, my attitude has always been the only way people learn is by doing the job of the consultant. Did I like it? Of course not it’s not nice having a few people feel an area that is very personal to you, but I certainly wasn’t going to make a fuss, because don’t forget, this man was hopefully the answer to all my prayers, when I was down in that theatre.
The consultant then proceeded to mark out the area he needed to cut, 2 incisions one to the left of my breast, the other under my arm as they had to take some of the lymph nodes out too. They didn’t know at the time how many would need to be removed, but they have to remove some, to see if there was any cancer in them. So, with a black marker he drew out the area he was going to operate on.
The next person to arrive was the anaesthetist, now I had no idea what he was talking about until he said “we now need you to sign these papers for you to agree to this surgery”. What is anyone supposed to do! This was me saying, ok I consent, and if I don’t come out of it, its ok because I signed a piece of paper.
It was only then that everything hit me, realising what was in front of me – and that was the unknown.
The anaesthetist also told me that later that morning, I would be taken to another part of the hospital, and I would be injected with a blue dye – I thought “ok, that’s random, why a blue dye?
So it turns out this blue dye was a substance that luminates the lymph nodes, and this subsequently allows them to see if there is cancer in any of these nodes – what the little shit didn’t tell me was, this would be directly injected into my breast, and omg it was bloody nasty. The funny thing was though, it turned out there were a number of us going down for the same treatment. We were scattered into different wards, but when it was time they marched us all down one by one to have this injection, you had to see it to believe it, it was like going on a regimental march, a group of women following each other in our surgery gowns, dressing gowns and slippers, god knows what people must have thought.
After having my injection, the lovely lady who had just injected me with this blue dye explained that I should be prepared in case after I woke up from my operation, I may well have a blue tinge.
“Oh great”, I thought, “now I am going to wake up looking like a bloody smurf -that’s all I need!”
In the grand scheme of things this was nothing, I was hoping when all this came to an end my recovery would be due to the plan they had put together – and if it meant being a smurf for a few hours I could live with that. However, the next few hours dragged by, I was getting hungry and my surgery was delayed – apparently another patient needed to stay longer in theatre.
I was due to come out the same day, but I was worried I couldn’t if my surgery was being delayed.
Going to theatre
So eventually at around 3 in the afternoon, about an hour after having my pre-med, it was my turn.
Here came the porters with the trolley, and I was switched from one bed to the other.
Richard held my hand and walked with me as close to theatre as they would let him. And then there was that final kiss, the fear that this could possibly be our final kiss.
I looked into his eyes, for the first time I saw he was scared, you know, we had been married a long time, I knew he was scared, I was scared, but he was there by my side.
And then it was time, I could only do this on my own, the doors opened, Richard had to leave, the consultant was waiting, mask on my face, the countdown was on. 10, 9,8,7,6,5, I didn’t get past 5 I could see the lights above me flashing, and then I was gone, into a world of darkness, and now in the hands of my Doctors.
To be Continued.
