Daily Mirror (Northern Ireland)
NOLANS STARS
AS sisters, they have always been there for each other. And when it came to fighting cancer it was no different.
Anne Nolan was first diagnosed with breast cancer in 2000 and comforted her sister, Linda when she suffered the same fate in 2006. But on the very same day last March, the sisters were both told that their illnesses had returned.
Linda, 62, had been fighting secondary breast cancer since 2017, and was told last March that she had incurable cancer that had spread to her liver. Anne, 70, was told her breast cancer had returned.
Now, in the second part of our exclusive extracts from their new book Stronger Together, Anne tells how they supported each other through treatment and how she overcame the gruelling side-effects of chemotherapy to ring the hospital bell announcing that she was cancer-free.
When Maureen called to say Linda and I could have our chemotherapy treatment together, I cried with relief. We’ve shared every emotion – the highs and the lows – and we are stronger together because of it.
Two decades earlier when I had my chemo the first time, I could go out and do things. But because of the lockdowns and restrictions, I was having to shield.
If you get Covid, there is a higher chance you can die because of what the treatments have done to your immune system. It’s been like living in a nightmare really. It was horrendous.
I was joined by Linda in my second chemotherapy session. Having her with me helped a lot. She brought magazines in and we’d look at them together and natter. She was two metres from me, but we could still hear each other speak, and it was nice having a loved one nearby.
She passed me sweets and she’d bring scones and we would swap food with each other like kids in school, depending on what our sisters Denise and Maureen had conjured up for our lunchboxes.
Linda was the one who labelled us the Chemo Sisters and I love that moniker.
She just made life much easier. Linda had similar side-effects, and we would talk our symptoms through, as well as our coping mechanisms, and it made me feel better knowing I wasn’t alone.
We chatted about day-to-day things too, be it some celebrity or what to watch on Netflix. But sometimes I would nod off. I’m sure I snored too.
The second chemo session was when catastrophe struck. I was sitting there, only about four or five minutes into the treatment, chatting and joking about things, when I started to get horrendous pain in my lower back and legs, and my heart was racing. Palpitations. I thought, “My God, something’s happening.” And I shouted to the nurses, “HELP!”
My face felt on fire – it turned purple like a blueberry and within seconds a team was around me, taking the intravenous needle out then pumping other stuff into the cannula to counteract it.
Within a minute, the reaction started to go away and I was feeling normal.
When those scary incidents happen you worry about it happening again, and I nearly said no more treatment, but my oncologist put me on another drug.
However, I had a reaction again. This time it was worse. I noticed flashing lights in front of my eyes, and I shouted,
CARING Maureen and Anne Nolan
“Reaction happening again!” My heart rate was racing then started to fall.
I wondered whether I was allergic to all chemotherapy, but my oncologist mixed a new prescription.
Side-effects of chemo aren’t pleasant and sometimes a sense of humour is required to get through it. My reactions included constipation and then I had diarrhoea really bad. Then I had constipation again. So, I was taking medication for that too. My poor intestines. It wasn’t an experience I’m in a hurry to repeat.
Incontinence is another lovely side effect that no amount of pelvic floor exercises will remedy. I had to concede and ask Maureen to pick up some Tena Ladies protective pads for me. The sideeffects of chemo are not just losing your hair; they are lots of other squeamish things. On my third session, because I’d