Blogging has never really appealed to me, however someone suggested it might be helpful to write things down – as and when I feel them. Now, and in the tricky months that potentially lie ahead.

The story so far is this. In October 2014, when I was 26 years old, I had a mole that ended up being stage 2 melanoma removed from my back. I had two surgeries, followed by an optional course of a newly approved immunotherapy drug called Interferon. The Interferon was optional because as far as the doctors were concerned, the cancer had been removed from my body via the surgery. The treatment consisted of daily infusions over a course of 4 weeks, designed to re-boot my immune system and fight off any stray cells that may have been lurking.

I suffered quite seriously with side effects. They included nausea, headaches and next level fatigue – I was pretty much semi conscious for about 2 weeks of the treatment. However, when it was finished I resumed normal life quickly, and carried on as though not much had happened. I did have a couple of follow up scans, which were clear, and 5 years of 3 monthly skin checks, which were also clear. Which brings us to today. 

On the 11th June, I had a routine MRI for pain in my abdomen after a gall bladder removal in 2015. They didn’t find anything wrong with my bile duct or liver, as anticipated, however they did stumble across 2 round masses in my left lung which is presumed haematological spread (via the blood) of my previous melanoma.

I was told about this during a dermatology appointment exactly one week ago. It was a huge shock and I’m still really struggling to get my head around the whole thing. I’m now 31 years old, I got married in December 2018 to the most incredible man, and we have a little boy called Nate. Nate actually turned two on Sunday, a few days after being told the news, and I won’t ever be able to explain how difficult that day was. A complete mixture of desperately trying to have a fun time on my little boy’s big day, with fearing the worst and torturing myself with the possibility that this may be the last birthday of his that I get to be at.

It’s a few days later now, and I’m in the position where I’m awaiting a CT scan to see where else the melanoma has spread to. I’ll then get a treatment plan to hopefully rid me of this (what feels like) immediate death sentence. In reality, it isn’t an immediate death sentence. I’m so fortunate to live in the era that I do, the melanoma treatments are developing so quickly, and they’re actually working. Not for everyone, but for some. This gives me hope, and a tangible reason to carry on today and tomorrow with my life as it is – getting Nate up and dressed, going to work etc.

I worry about the people around me the most. My husband, Richard, and my mum and dad are the strongest and most supportive people I know. I’m so lucky to have them. However, I feel guilty that they are having to go through this with me. It’s not just my life which is currently being put on hold, I see people changing plans and giving up things important to them, so that they can be on hand in the unpredictable months to come.