It happened to me I might never see my girls grow up
Despite a devastating diagnosis, Janine Brook explains why she won’t let cancer overshadow her life
There’s a box at my home filled with all the sweet things my children have ever made for me. I keep it in our conservatory, next to a comfy chair, where I can sit all afternoon and rummage through. But there’s more in there than mother’s Day cards and school paintings. It’s filled with handmade get-well cards, poems and notes in bright pink writing. ‘when I’m older I want to be just like you, mummy’, says one. ‘I love you so much,’ reads another, next to a painting of a huge sunflower. on a down day, I only need to look at these precious notes to give me the strength I need to carry on fighting...
Perfect family
When I discovered I was pregnant in October 2008, my husband Paul, 40, and I were thrilled. Already parents to Sophia, then two, we couldn’t wait to give her a brother or sister to play with.
Rosie was born the following June, and cradling her in my arms, I couldn’t stop smiling. And when my mum brought Sophia to the hospital to meet her baby sister, my heart swelled as she placed a toy fairy beside her.
Back home, while Paul went to his marketing job, Sophia would help me with feeds, toddling off to get baby bibs while chattering away about all the fun games they could play together. I’d look at them and think how lucky I was.
But in January 2010, I was sitting on the sofa with Paul when I felt a pain in my rib. Reaching up inside my pyjama top, my hand brushed over a small lump just under my right breast.
Assuming it was hormonal changes from pregnancy, I wasn’t worried, but Paul thought I should get it checked out,
so I made an appointment with my GP. Only, as I was referred to a specialist clinic for a mammogram, ultrasound and a biopsy, I began to worry it was something more serious. A week later, our worst fears were confirmed. A 5cm tumour had been discovered. I had breast cancer – and it was aggressive.
Paul gripped my hand as we listened to the doctor explain I needed to have a mastectomy, lymph node removal, chemo and radiotherapy. At only 32, with no family history of cancer, it didn’t make sense. But while I was terrified, I was also confident – there was a plan of action, I’d be able to beat this.
With the girls too young to understand, we told them that Mummy was poorly. Then, in March 2010, I went into hospital for the mastectomy. As I recovered, Paul brought Sophia, then three, and Rosie, nine months, in to see me. They’d made me the most beautiful cards – covered with glitter and hearts. And with ‘Get well soon, Mummy’ emblazoned across the front, I vowed that I would.
Life-saving treatment
Over the next five months, I endured an exhausting cycle of chemo and then radiotherapy. My blond hair fell out, my body ached and sometimes I just wanted to tell the doctors to stop. But, each time I returned home from appointments, I was showered in kisses, cuddles and more cards from my girls. Every picture, every word gave me that extra push to carry on.
Finally, in August 2011, with the treatment complete, life went back to normal. I cherished the simple things, like taking the girls swimming or to the park. But that happiness didn’t last. The cancer crept back, and this time it was incurable.
That November I started a drug trial to try and stop the cancer from spreading, but in January 2014, tests showed the disease had spread to my lungs. This time we couldn’t hold back the tears. Why us?
I needed more chemo and with the girls now a little older, Sophia was seven and Rosie was four, I wanted them to know what was happening. Paul and I explained that I had cancer and that I might not get better.
It was so much for the girls to take on, but they were very brave. And every time I went to the hospital, they would make me a card, each one more intricate than the last, detailing all the reasons they loved me. ‘The best Mummy ever is you,’ read one. ‘You are the most buitifull laddy in the hole world, I want to skwees you tite,’ said another. Sometimes it took me a while to figure out what they were trying to say, but that made me smile even more.
By September 2016, I was told that my body wasn’t responding to the targeted treatment, my only option now was to try more treatments to help prolong my life. While many people would have started making a bucket list, or given up all hope, all I wanted was to live a normal life with my family, reading stories with Rosie or listening to Sophia singing. It might not sound like much but those precious moments are what kept me fighting. And, after doing some more research online, I realised I could get private treatment – only it would cost £1,800 every three weeks. So I set up a fundraising page and website called Boobie Date to raise money for treatment while informing others about the symptoms of breast cancer, encouraging men and women to check their breasts monthly.
Determined to help, this year Sophia, now 11, and Rosie, seven, held a bake sale and trampoline-athon. As I watched them jumping up and down with grins on their faces, I felt so proud. Despite everything, we were all still smiling.
My first round of treatment starts soon, and while I know that I won’t be able to fight the inevitable forever and that there are things I will miss out on, like seeing my girls go to university and start families of their own, I’m just concentrating on the now. And I’m savouring every moment with my precious family. After all, they have taught me that no matter what, life is still ‘buitifull’. ✱ To make a donation towards Janine’s treatment visit boobie date.org.uk. Janine also fundraises for breast cancercare.org.uk and futuredreams.org.uk and has helped raise over £1m
‘I will never stop fighting’