News location:

Canberra Today 16°/18° | Friday, March 29, 2024 | Digital Edition | Crossword & Sudoku

Three times I felt lucky having breast cancer

Libby Hill… “I was given a pill for every side effect and each new pill came with a nasty, new side effect. My new goal in life was to be alive and off drugs.” Photo by Libby Hill

CANCER is vile and petrifying. I’ve spent 2017 dealing with it. So far it’s taken two surgeries – I’m waiting for the third – and six rounds of chemotherapy.

Treatment syphoned the joy out of life for a while. Foods tasted like fur. The poison came out in my tears and my lash-less eyes were stinging and blurry. My skin was covered in a burning rash and I have no words to describe the particular horror that is bone pain.

I was given a pill for every side effect and each new pill came with a nasty, new side effect. My new goal in life was to be alive and off drugs.

Through it all, there were moments. Moments that made me realise just how lucky I am. Lucky to have this treatment. To live here, in this world-class city with its top-notch facilities and excellent people.

1. Calvary Public Hospital

IT was a few days before Christmas when I was diagnosed and every surgeon in the area seemed to be at their holiday homes already.

My GP said my private health insurance was of no use, the waitlists to see a private surgeon were too long and I didn’t have time to spare.

One surgeon at Calvary Public Hospital made time to see me within 24 hours of diagnosis. I made some frantic calls to friends in the health sector and did a background check. People said good things.

When I arrived at his clinic he ran on time, explained everything calmly, drew diagrams and wrote notes for me to take away. I then met a breast-care nurse who seemed to know exactly what to say and when to say it as well as when I needed a cuddle. She told me I could text her any time with whatever little or big concern I had. I would be thousands of dollars out of pocket if I’d gone through the private system. Instead, I had free, around-the-clock access to excellent health professionals. Lucky me.

2. The Great Hall, Parliament House

IT was January 25, five days after my first surgery, and I’d made it out to the Australian of the Year Awards. Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull presented the Local Hero award to Vicki Jellie.

She described how her husband Peter had to travel 320 kilometres to access cancer treatment before he died. It’s a huge problem for regional Australians who need to travel to the city for regular treatment such as chemotherapy or radiotherapy. Not only is it costly but patients are away from the comfort of their homes, family and friends.

I had to travel six kilometres from Narrabundah to Garran for chemo and I could pick my daughter up from school in Red Hill on the way home. I could tuck my children into bed on chemo nights, although often they would tuck me in. We were together. I was in my own bed. My husband by my side. Lucky me.

3. Canberra Region Cancer Centre

IT was June and I was at a crossroads in my treatment plan.

My very aggressive tumour had been removed and chemotherapy was finished but that wasn’t enough to make sure I don’t get a recurrence. I was advised to follow up with seven weeks of radiotherapy. Or a bilateral mastectomy. It was a weighty decision and a very personal one.

My dream team at the Canberra Hospital included a medical oncologist, a radiation oncologist and a genetic counsellor – when I still had questions they Skyped in a genetics expert from Sydney for me to chat with for an hour.

I saw each of them separately, looked them in the eye and I asked them: “If you were aged 33, with a six-year-old and a four-year-old and you had grade 3, triple negative breast cancer, what would you do?”

Each one of them, behind the closed door, gave me an honest response. Not the standard recommended treatment protocol. The truthful opinion of a person with expert knowledge. To them, I wasn’t just one of hundreds of patients, I mattered. Lucky me.

A cancer diagnosis makes you re-evaluate your life. You suddenly see everything around you with a different perspective. I chose to go with one of gratitude. As my eyelashes grow back, I’m seeing Canberra with a fresh set of eyes and a whole new appreciation. Until the pollen count skyrockets, anyway!

My new Breast Friends

IF you’re unlucky enough to meet breast cancer, you’ll be given a showbag of brochures to peruse. I reckon, if you pick out these ones, you’ll be in good hands:

  • Bosom Buddies – they give you cushions and bags that you’re not really sure will be useful until you need them and then, my gosh they are useful!
  • BCNA – The “My Journey” kit is an invaluable resource and so much safer than Dr Google. I refer to it almost weekly.
  • The ACT Cancer Council Wig Service – I got a second-hand Rapunzel-style wig for $40 and my daughters loved it. Anything to make them smile.
  • The Cancer Support Group – Lorraine is the best. She helps with the things that can keep you awake at night with worry.
  • Heads Up – Sue makes you feel fantastic. I ignored one piece of her advice and regretted it badly. Listen to Sue.
  • Look Good Feel Better – You’ll leave with a bag full of free make-up and laugh more than you thought possible.

Who can be trusted?

In a world of spin and confusion, there’s never been a more important time to support independent journalism in Canberra.

If you trust our work online and want to enforce the power of independent voices, I invite you to make a small contribution.

Every dollar of support is invested back into our journalism to help keep citynews.com.au strong and free.

Become a supporter

Thank you,

Ian Meikle, editor

Share this

Leave a Reply

Related Posts

Follow us on Instagram @canberracitynews