Sex life or no life

I’d fought for my life and won, but it came at a cost

Julie Morawaka, 55, Great Wakering

Like any other couple, me and Mike, 58, had been through our fair share of ups and downs over our five years together. But when it came to our love life, we’d never had any complaints.

So when I found myself traipsing back and forth to the doctor in December 2015, complaining of the constant need to wee and struggling to go, it was little more than a thorn in my side.

Diagnosed with a urine infection, I was given antibiotics and sent home.

But the symptoms didn’t clear – and in July 2016, I returned to the doctor with a dull ache in my back.

‘It’s keeping me up at night,’ I groaned.

He examined me and prescribed more antibiotics.

‘It’s another infection,’ he said.

When the antibiotics didn’t work, the GP reckoned I had kidney stones.

This time, I demanded a scan and went to the hospital for an ultrasound.

Though the radiologist was tight-lipped, she urged me to book an urgent follow-up.

Mike wanted to come with me two days later, but I didn’t want a fuss and told him I’d go on my own.

Walking into the doctor’s room alone, I quickly regretted refusing him.

‘You’ve got cancer,’ the doctor said.

I didn’t know whether to rant or cry.

All this time...all those symptoms were actually a large tumour in my bladder.

I drove home in a daze, repeatedly pulling over to sob.

When I got in, my daughter Sian, 24, and son Scott, 29, took one look at me and rushed over as I blurted out my terrible news.

When Mike and my son Danny, 19, returned home, we broke the news to them together. I wanted to be strong, protect my kids. But all I could do was hold them and cry.

A fortnight later, I was taken into theatre, where a doctor performed a TURBT (transurethral resection of bladder tumour). It’s an hour-long procedure to remove the tumour from my bladder, using an instrument pushed through the urethra.

Afterwards, the specialist called when I was out of recovery, Mike by my side.

‘We managed to remove most of it, but it’s spread into the bladder wall,’ the specialist said. ‘What does that mean?’ I asked. Nothing could have prepared me for what he said next. ‘If we don’t remove your bladder, you might not live more than a couple of years.’ Removing my bladder meant complications for life. ‘We have to go ahead,’ Mike said. ‘I can’t lose you.’ I knew he was right. But first, the doctors tried chemotherapy, hoping that if the remaining tumour shrank, the surgery necessary wouldn’t be so drastic. The treatment took its toll, leaving me weak and tired. I took weeks off work, the first time in years I’d taken sick leave. But after only two sessions, a

Nothing could have prepared me for what he said next

scan revealed that not only was the cancer failing to respond to chemotherapy...it was actually spreading.

There was no more time to waste.

Doctors stopped the treatment and, two weeks before Christmas, I was back in hospital.

As well as needing to remove my bladder, the surgeon told me he had to also take my womb, some lymph nodes and part of my vagina.

‘There might be some unpleasant side effects,’ he explained.

Because part of my vagina was being removed, nerve endings were being cut.

It meant intimacy with Mike could be affected.

I’d also need to wear a catheter, connected through a small incision by my belly button. But I didn’t have much of choice... It was my sex life, or my life itself.

I went ahead with the 12-hour op, and on Christmas Eve, I was allowed home.

The kids had decorated the house, but refused to turn the lights on till we walked in. It meant a lot. The 12-week recovery was tough, but Mike was supportive, as always.

The first time we were intimate, six months after the op, I was anxious, unsure what to expect.

Mike didn’t say much – he knew I was nervous and I put on a brave face.

But deep down, I knew he was afraid, too.

No-one wants to feel like

their partner isn’t enjoying sex.

I quickly realised I couldn’t feel a thing. Totally numb. Afterwards, the devastation set in.

We’d been together for five years and now, I’d never orgasm or enjoy that part of our relationship in the same way again.

Mike said, ‘I’d rather have you here like this than not at all. It’s a small price to pay.’

‘It’ll just take some getting used to,’ I replied.

There was good news, though. Really good.

Post-op scans showed I was cancer-free.

No more medication. No more chemo. It was such a relief. I don’t think bladder cancer is talked about enough.

People assume it’s only old men who get it, but it can happen to anyone.

I was told it was a urine infection for so long.

If it’d been caught sooner, maybe I wouldn’t have needed such major surgery.

Now, Mike and I still have a healthy relationship in the bedroom, even though I can’t feel anything.

It’s frustrating at times – but we remind ourselves I’m lucky to be alive.

I quickly realised I couldn’t feel a thing. Totally numb