‘It was strange to leave not for a nice holiday but for extensive cancer treatment’

05 April, 2022 | By Ingrid Fuchs

Yesterday I had my MRI and I found it really hard. I’m a bit claustrophobic but did not expect I was going to react that badly. Within minutes of lying there very still on my tummy I couldn’t contain myself. I was crying. My colleague and friend was with me trying to support me. It’s really hard to lie very still for 30 minutes, I felt vulnerable. There was some music, but the noise was so loud, I couldn’t hear anything.

A few times I wanted to press the panic button. I kept counting and breathing slow and deep to try to relax. I felt even worse when they said that there was movement on the scan and that they wanted to repeat some pictures. At the end they said that they were hoping that the MRI was good enough because of the movement during the procedure.

I didn’t realise that moving meant me moving my chest with deep breathing. Anyway, next time I will ask them to communicate more with me and tell me exactly how many sets of pictures and minutes of me lying there are left, perhaps count down with me. I also will get diazepam to try to relax a bit more. I have never had as much mail as I have now. Every day I get about three or four letters, either appointments or summary letters.

I had my CT scan too, it was so easy compared to the MRI. Only five minutes and the machine told me when I had to hold my breath and when I could breathe. The CT scanner is more open than the MRI scanner and I didn’t feel claustrophobic at all. The day after, one of my colleagues, a consultant radiologist, came into the office and told me the results. All organs are clear, which is great news, there were a few prominent lymph nodes, very likely reacting to the recent flu jab or Covid-19 booster, but she wanted to have a second look with ultrasound and biopsy them, just to make sure.

It was my last day at work too. My colleague went to the multidisciplinary team and I did most of the assessment clinics and saw the patients after the biopsies. It was a nice day. It was busy, which was great for me because I was distracted. It was strange to leave not for a nice holiday but for extensive cancer treatment. I was very grateful that not too many colleagues came and hugged me goodbye. They know me well, and knew that I otherwise would get emotional and tearful.

I did my last run before the start of the chemotherapy and I passed a gym instructor with his partner, I used to do classes with him, and he asked me casually how I was. I told him my diagnosis and treatment plan. Afterwards I realised how shocked he must have been, probably just expecting me to say: yeah, everything is fine.

I have been binge-reading everything about triple-negative breast cancer. What I read is quite depressing and I wonder if my life will pan out completely different from what I was expecting. Yesterday I told my family about the diagnosis. I painted a positive picture as I didn’t want them to be too worried, maybe I can be positive? Let’s see.

I had to tell my dad and brother the diagnosis over FaceTime as my family lives in the Netherlands. For the older generation it will be hard to understand as cancer means death to them.

This blog was originally published in the Nursing Times. Many thanks to them for sharing Ingrid's story.