Sheryl’s Story

My 3 Amigos

Thirteen years ago, the battle language of cancer became part of my everyday vocabulary when I was diagnosed with early breast cancer. After my first chemo session I explained to friends and family ‘I’m very aware that a war is raging inside of me.’ Words such as ‘battle’, ‘fight’, ‘win’ and ‘enemy’ became spoken and heard during my cancer episode.

When you first hear the words, ‘It’s cancer’ it’s not long before you want ‘it’ out, feel betrayed by your body, and ask what caused this threat to develop in you. The battle begins to eliminate the enemy.

The fight against the cancer that waged a war inside of me was successfully treated; life resumed a more peaceful existence. Like all cancer ‘survivors’ you carry battle scars both physically and emotionally, but I learnt from it and moved on. The clear and present danger had been neutralised.

Early in 2021, I noticed I was becoming short of breath during walks that a couple of weeks prior caused no issue. The shortness of breath then became more apparent whilst performing small household tasks. Never once did I think that the enemy was on the move again. A month after those first signs of breathlessness, I was in hospital and told the breast cancer had returned and moved to invade my lung, rib and spine.

Because the three tumour sites were from the original breast cancer, it meant this new assault was metastatic. Stage four. Terminal.

So all those years ago, I had won the battle, but not the war.

With this new siege raging, I noticed something in me had changed. The battle cries didn’t quite fit anymore. The cancer was going to win. I had trouble reconciling that I would ultimately lose. I’ve never seen myself as a loser or a victim. That mindset, that vocabulary, no longer adequately explained how I was going to approach this diagnosis.

Metastatic breast cancer can be managed. If you respond well to treatment, life can continue for quite a few years with some degree of normality. It is a life-shortening disease that you learn to live with. Therefore, rather than treating my tumours as the enemy, we had to learn to live with each other.

A new mindset was forming. I decided to refer to my tumours as my three amigos, and as long as they behaved themselves, we would live together as landlord and tenants. Hopefully, they remain quiet tenants for a long time. I’ll do my bit, along with my medical team, to keep them happy in their current residential areas for as long as medically possible.

Having accepted their permanent presence, a calm developed along with an acceptance of the reality of the condition. For me, this has helped clarify so many aspects of life and death. Instead of investing time and energy into battle cries, I have freed myself to live in peace with my three residents. I wish they weren’t there, but they are, and I’m not wasting precious time wishing for things that aren’t going to happen. Instead, I prefer to spend that time enjoying the things that can happen.

This doesn’t mean I won’t do everything I can to squeeze as much time as humanly and medically possible to extend my life. I have deliberately chosen to live that time with joy, not angst; with hope, not fear; with dignity, not shame; with humour, not sadness; at peace, not war.