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This article was in a newspaper today....
Trisha speaks out about battle with cancer
30 November 2008
Norwich presenter Trisha Goddard has spoken out about her journey in tackling breast cancer.
Speaking to the Mail on Sunday, Mrs Goddard said: “The irony is that if I had not gone for a scan to improve my fitness I would never have found out about the disease that could have killed me.
“My first inkling that something might not be right was in March this year when I went to a private hospital in Norwich for a scan on a running injury.
“I was asked when I had last had a mammogram and realised it was seven years ago, so they booked me in to have one there and then.
“I was a bit startled when the woman doing the scan asked me if I'd noticed any lumps in my left breast before. I hadn't, but had had lumps in the right one investigated before and they were nothing to worry about.
“The scan had shown a lump, so the next step was a biopsy, which I had immediately.
“It's vile. Apparently I was vicious and fired off so many questions that the doctor doing the biopsy gave me far more information than he needed to.
“He finally told me I probably had breast cancer.
“That was a terrible blow. It just so happened that I had an appointment with my psychotherapist later that day and I remember walking in looking like a dazed beast and telling him my news.
“But I didn't tell my husband Peter and my girls, Billie, 18, and Madison, 13. I wanted to wait until I knew for sure - what if it was nothing? But my therapist convinced me I should tell Peter, and I did.
“He had his tears, of course. But he is a rock, emotionally.
“Peter came with me to see the surgeon a few days later. I remember us driving there on a nice sunny day and I had the top down on my Jaguar XK8 convertible.
“We were at traffic lights, the stereo was on and we were getting envious looks from other drivers as usual. I saw all these people looking at me and thinking, 'lucky cow'.
“And I remember feeling really good but suddenly realising: 'Trisha, you are never going to feel like this again.'
“In his consulting room the surgeon told me I had breast cancer, and I cried for about five seconds. Then it was a case of wiping my eyes and saying, 'Right, what are we going to do about this?'
“He told me I would need an operation but didn't know if it would be a lumpectomy or a mastectomy. Obviously, I wanted to get on with it as soon as possible and I was booked in for the next morning.
“That night we told the girls. Billie was very tearful. She's far more emotional, like I used to be when I was younger.
Madi is very intellectual and fired questions at us. What would happen? When would we know more?
“But I made it clear they shouldn't treat me any differently - I don't do victim - and they never have.
“I told them to be pain-in-the-a*** teenagers, but they kept any worries they might have had to themselves. The only difference was that from then on Madi started running with me, which was a big change.
“By 7.30am the next day I was in the nuclear oncology department at the Norfolk and Norwich NHS hospital, having dye injected into my breasts. And that was pretty bloody awful.
“Not the hospital itself, but it was a grim experience with some of the other patients gawping and calling 'Trisha'. They were clearly wondering what I was doing there with a patient's gown on.
“When I came round from the operation I didn't know what I was going to find - one breast, two breasts or none at all.
“But I was lucky. They had caught the cancer early and it was only a lumpectomy - the removal of breast tissue for testing.
“But a few days later I had to have a second operation because they had discovered a cancerous cell in my lymph nodes and I had to have them removed.
“This time I was in far more pain. Unfortunately, I picked up an infection and had to have the wounds under my arms drained. That kept me confined to bed for five days - definitely not my idea of fun.
“I resented my 50-year-old body then. Where is the fairness in it all, I wondered?
“I couldn't help thinking about why it had happened to me, especially when I saw obese people standing outside the hospital smoking.
“I now realise that whatever comes your way, you've got to deal with it.
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“The hospital nurses were just great but I did have days where I was really down because I couldn't go out running.
“But Peter would come in and we did laps walking around the hospital. The nurses used to laugh at us and thought I was joking when I said: 'Bring me Brad Pitt and my running shoes.'
“And running is what I tried to do as soon as I got out of hospital. I started power-walking in the snow near my Norfolk home, and then slowly but surely started running again - up to six miles.
“My greatest inspiration when I was running in the rain and felt like curling up in the nettles and vomiting was the late Jane Tomlinson, the cancer campaigner, who ran so many marathons.
“My doctors informed me that I shouldn't exercise like this but I was determined to prove them wrong. And I did. I ran every day.
“The medical profession is very good at telling you what you can't do. But the biggest buzz I got during my recovery was when a very senior surgeon told me he'd learnt something from watching me.
“Next came an 18-week course of chemotherapy, where powerful drugs, administered by injection, and in tablet form, destroy cancer cells.
“It was afterwards that I discovered what a difficult time I had.
“My surgeon told me I hold his record, and maybe the hospital's, for the most drainage of a wound. I had an infection the size of a tennis ball under my arm, but I was still doing my television show every day.
“I had some very low moments during chemotherapy. How can I describe the pain? It's similar to chronic arthritis and you feel as if you're 103 years old.
“Every connective tissue is screaming out and, one day, I could not stand up. I started panicking.
“But then I remember being told how it helps to breathe deeply and slowly through pain. I was sceptical but I did breathing exercises for about ten minutes and then, thankfully, it started to work.
“My physical symptoms included chronic diarrhoea and mouth and throat ulcers. My hair and eyelashes fell out and sometimes I'd be doing a piece to camera in my show and a producer would point out that my false eyelash had fallen off.
“As for food, some days I'd just eat pretzels because I was too nauseous to eat anything else. My eyes got infected and very often there'd be tears streaming down my face.
“But I'm sure the fact that I was fit before my cancer and continued to exercise helped me through it.
“I couldn't find anyone approaching chemo and radiotherapy in the same way as me until I was contacted by someone from an American group called the Cancer Thrivers.
“They said they supported people working out through chemo and radiotherapy and that I was doing the right thing.
“I found a physiotherapist who helped me with an exercise programme. He advised me to cut back a bit and I reduced my runs to three miles and the amount of weights I was working out with.
“But I still found the best cure for nausea was to do sit-up crunches with a 5kg weight on my chest. I knew exercise stimulates endorphins, and they in turn reduced my pain.
“In the end I spent more time with my personal trainer and with my psychotherapist than all the medical professionals put together. I couldn't have beaten cancer without them.
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There is a significant proportion of women in this country who are not being inspired by cancer charities. Women tell me they don't want to sit in support groups talking about headscarves. They don't want aromatherapy.
“After my radiotherapy - which involves projecting high-energy X-rays on to the tumour or surgically inserting a radioactive substance close to it with the aim of destroying it - ended two months ago, we went to New York.
“My husband and I were running in Central Park at a big charity event for breast cancer. I suddenly burst into floods of tears when Peter and I went into the Survivors' Tent.
“I was thrilled to see they were selling running gear. I met people like me who ran daily, also going through chemotherapy and radiotherapy.
“The incredible thing was, you couldn't tell who had breast cancer and who hadn't. I much prefer the American approach to cancer, where sufferers help tackle cancer by striding out, getting fresh air and exercise. All of those things are great for low-grade depression, pain and nausea.
“Even during chemotherapy I enjoyed going to work. But I did have to stop for two weeks when I was having the radiotherapy because the treatment was every morning and I couldn't do both.
“That was the worst time imaginable. I'm the kind of person who really needs work as a release from everything else in life. I don't do slowing down. It's just not who I am.
“Cancer has changed my attitude to life. I've stopped saving stuff for best. I found myself becoming more assertive and not sweating over the small things.
“My family were at the cinema last week and children were talking during the film. The old me would have just huffed and puffed.
“But I turned round and said to them: 'Will you be talking throughout the whole film or will you be coming up for air anytime soon?' I thought, where did that come from?
“Despite the physical pain I have endured I never felt as if I was going to slip back over the edge mentally, as I did when I had my breakdown in 1994 and spent four months in a psychiatric ward.
“One thing this cancer experience has shown me is how sane I am. If I did have a bad night, I'd take half a sleeping tablet because I know that lack of sleep is a big contributor to any mental problems.
“Earlier this month I went back to my surgeon and I have been given the all-clear. I must have six monthly scans, but for now the cancer has gone.
“Now I am going to take one day at a time and I know just how lucky I am to be with my loving family.”
~~~~~~~~~ I hope this inspires others to fight back in whatever way they can, our Lynn, Daff, Vicky, Caz and many others here are wonderful examples.
Lizx
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Trisha doesn't inspire me I'm afraid. I could barely walk when I had a particularly aggressive type of chemotherapy for my bc, and I don't think it helps others who are going through it to feel they are coping OK when she keeps rattling on about her running, weight lifting and working. I bet she had someone in to do all her domestic chores!
And you never get the "all clear" from cancer! The most you ever get is NED (no evidence of disease). Anybody who has had it gets no guarantees that the disease won't return, and it's not easy coming to terms with that.
Cancer and it's treatment are barbaric. Yes, a lot of us get through it, but none of us come out the other end unscathed.
I'm grateful to still be on the planet, but my life has changed forever, I am physically scarred, permanently numb from surgery, have peripheral neuropathy from the chemo and lymphoedema. My life will probably be shortened because of this disgusting disease, and I would rather people like Trisha would stop glorifying it.
Please don't think I am an ungrateful misery! Those on here who know me, also know that I have stayed cheerful and optimistic throughout, but it hasn't been a walk (or should I say run) in the park, I can tell you!
Dee
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Dee, I salute you and many others, who are fighting back but just want to show a different take on the fight. Trisha didn't have so much taken away as some but found her way to cope and yes, I am sure she has help at home, and her husband is a good bloke, a mental health worker here in Norwich, and very active in supporting many m.h. issues but also incredibly supportive at home.
It may well be that this is her way of coping and inside she is scared it will come back.
I know that cancer affects people in many different ways and depending on the degree of their illness and their personal circumstances too.
I wish you many years with us yet and hope you can continue to find the strength to cope with all you have to live with.
Lizx
if this thread offends others, I will delete it but won't be back on till much later today.
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