An honest, funny look at surviving breast cancer treatment
After being diagnosed with breast cancer in 2018, Lorraine TV producer Helen Addis started a blog, The Titty Gritty, chronicling her treatment and its impact on her family and outlook. Here is her story....
‘On a work day, my morning routine was nailed to an 11-minute turnaround. Alarm was set for 5am, car booked for 10 past.
My clothes were laid out ready so I could shower, towel dry while brushing teeth, put on a massive dollop of moisturiser for my whole body, starting from my face. (I know, I know – body lotion on face is a mahoosive no-no, apparently. Can it really be that bad? How does a cream know what part of your body it’s moisturising?).
Anyway, then I’d get dressed, brush my hair and put my mascara on in the car. But, things didn’t go to plan on Thursday 15 March 2018.
The alarm went off and the 11-minute whirlwind kicked in until the moisturiser went down my body and hit my right boob. I stopped in my tracks. The lump was sitting smugly about two inches below my right nipple and was the size and shape of a chickpea.
That was the start of my breast cancer journey 18 months ago. Looking back, I can tell you that some of the hardest parts are not the things you dread, such as surgery, chemotherapy and radiotherapy.
One of my drugs, Tamoxifen, has hurled me straight into the menopause. So, having spent the best part of nine months in chemo trying not to lose my hair, I’m now desperately trying not to grow a beard! Oh and I’ve turned into a prize bitch at times....
It really has been a roller coaster. I now sport a short crop hairdo, which I’ve discovered I bloody love. On the other hand, having initially lost all the hair on the rest of my body I’m back to spending sh*tloads on waxing again, while my nose hair is still taking its sweet time to grow back. Who knew the importance of nose hair? At any moment my nose runs without any warning and the goods are firmly on my top lip before I’ve known anything about it. Appreciate your nose hair people – it does wonders.
I’ve got one 40-year-old (sad-looking) boob and one shiny new fake (almost finished) boob. Still just one nipple (which my six-year-old told the Amazon delivery man about recently) but I will be getting another tattooed soon.
Something nobody talks about is the boredom factor. I am so ‘ bored’ by cancer.
When I was on targeted therapy, which had me in hospital all day, every three weeks and knocked my stomach sideways, I felt like I was on baby number three and the attention fatigue has kicked in. For those of you
insane enough to have more than two kids you’ll know what I mean. The love and attention levels start to wane. It’s like everyone around me thinks ‘Oh she’s alright, she’s an old hat at this lark now’ and ‘ baby number one (chemo) was the hardest, she’ll breeze with the third.’ It’s not true.
An eternal plus is I have made new friendships that I’ll cherish for life.
Take Sally, who contacted me on Instagram because she saw one of my Change And Check stickers [a campaign to encourage people to check their bodies for signs of breast cancer when trying on clothes in shop changing rooms]. She found a lump in her armpit and has just been diagnosed with grade three triple negative breast cancer. It’s a tough diagnosis, but I’m thankful she caught it early.
My long-term relationships, especially those with my husband and three kids, have built a whole new layer of love in my heart. I’ve had days and weeks where I was sick/ dog tired/sick again/mouth sores/muscle spasms… the list goes on, but my outlook has changed as much as my body. My mind has had a mastectomy of its own and I’m slowly reconstructing a new me.
I’ve never before been so acutely interested in making a den in the lounge with the kids, or said yes to eating pizza in front of the TV. Never before have I asked the kids what they dreamed about last night and then turned it into a song. These little things have been brought to me by my cancer treatment.
Being so debilitated and made to feel so wretched has only allowed me to do small things with the kids, but I can see the benefit of it in their eyes and mood.
It’s like I’ve gone back to basics. Sometimes I was only able to lie down or sit, but I could read stories, talk, watch, listen, and to my three nutters that’s everything.
Cancer has brought me mammograms, biopsies, MRI scans, radioactive injections and surgery – but it has also brought me perspective.
Now I wake up and look out of the window. I haven’t rushed anywhere. In fact I’ve slowed right down and savoured every step while holding the hands of those closest to me. It’s made me realise it’s OK to spend an hour seeing how many Barbie outfits one can make out of kitchen roll (quite a few if you’ve got the robust stuff) and it’s OK to do the floss at high speed in tandem with your kids while waiting to pay for said kitchen roll.
I can’t help but feel some gratitude that my eyes have been opened to life and to love in a new, shiny way. Meanwhile, I’ve told cancer not to bother calling in to see any of my family and friends. I hope anyone who reads this will hold everyone they care for a little closer, do the floss dance if they desire and CHECK THEIR BREASTS.
Cancer has shown me that my life is ace. But now it can shove off. I’m on a mission to get the nation to feel their boobs. There has to be a reason why I’m going through all this.’
l Change and Check has been supported by celebrities including Naomi Campbell, Sheryl Crow, Madonna and breast cancer charity Future Dreams. Visit futuredreams.org.uk