Horsham-based cancer specialist personal trainer, Becky, reflects on her own cancer journey as another anniversary passes…
Seven years ago last week, I had surgery to remove a Desmoid tumour, a form of sarcoma. It’s a privilege to be able to say that I am fully physically recovered, though it’s been a journey to get here! I wouldn’t have imagined – with or without the tumour experience – that I’d be where I am today, and I wanted to reflect on recovery and anniversaries, as they can be sensitive topics.
Cancer journey: diagnosis to recovery
Sarcoma is a catch-all term for a large number of soft tissue tumours. They can occur anywhere in the body – mine was in my abdominal wall, so surgery involved removal of the tumour, plus half of my six-pack muscle (which was reconstructed by using mesh – similar to a very large hernia repair).
When I was diagnosed, aged 31, my prognosis was pretty good. Desmoids are known for being aggressive, and the chance of early recurrence is fairly high but, when you get beyond the first couple of years and there aren’t any additional complications, prospects are normally good.
It was a huge shock to be diagnosed with a tumour, I hadn’t expected it at all, partly because I’d dedicated the year prior to my diagnosis to getting fitter and healthier – typical! However, my fitness journey was embedded enough that it served me well: my priority was to be able to return to my newest love of strength training, plus my long-term love, horse riding, and the focus meant that I took care of myself and appropriately pushed myself.
Cancer recovery isn’t easy
All of that said, I’m compressing the story big time! I’ve struggled with mental health issues since childhood, and receiving this kind of diagnosis tends to exacerbate that. I was incredibly anxious, and felt desperate at times, wondering whether I’d ever feel happy or safe again. I had to learn how to adapt certain movements as my body had changed significantly, and it was a case of trusting the new anatomy, as well as strengthening it.
Cancer anniversaries
One of the reasons it was on my mind to write this is because, for the first time since I qualified as a cancer specialist personal trainer in 2021, someone I know was diagnosed with cancer this summer. I’m surprised – with the odds as they are – that it has taken this long. I’ve heard about many diagnoses in my wider circle, but this is the first time it’s happened to someone I’d directly refer to as a friend, and it felt different.
The news settled in, and the person who’s been diagnosed has also been in for personal training sessions for me – it felt good to be able to use my skills to help. And then, we found out when they’d be having surgery: 9th October – my own surgery anniversary. Interestingly, as soon as I heard, I felt positive, and it showed me that I’ve hit a new stage.
When the first few anniversaries occurred, I felt differently. In fact, on the first one, I went away on holiday by myself and, on the day itself, took myself to a park and sat and cried. Fortunately, things improved from there (not that crying is a bad thing – it was a cathartic experience). My experience is also coloured by the fact that treatment has been successful – had my surgery not been a success, I might feel less positively about sharing an anniversary, but as it stands, it seemed like a good vibe to me.
How to handle cancer anniversaries
One of the problems with cancer is that a lot of it happens in a hurry. For many of us, once the biopsy results are in and the dreaded C word is first used, things then happen at warp speed. It’s tests and treatment plans and your entire life put on hold. It’s people offering their support and sending little packages and going here there and everywhere for appointments, all in the name of saving your life.
And then it stops. As the wise Carolyn Garritt puts it – the circus leaves town. And you, the patient, have to clean up their mess. Suddenly, you’re alone again, but the landscape is so very different, and you have no idea where to start. I think that this is one of the reasons it’s all such a challenge – you’re all at once faced with actually processing what’s happened to you, as well as having to get on with it.
Anniversaries are laden with memories, and stuff you perhaps didn’t notice the first time around hits you in the face. I chose to apply patience. I knew that the anniversaries might be hard, and so I factored for it. Slowed down. Worked with what I had available, and gave myself grace. Because I had the sense that it wouldn’t be forever, if I just let myself be.
I still wouldn’t have guessed that I would get to this point with it all. It sucks that someone I know is walking the path I’ve trodden (or anyone I don’t know), but it has made me look back at it and realise that, for me, the grass has grown back, and I’m at a new stage.