Guest blog 1

“He stuck his finger up your arse? seems unnecessary!”

I vividly remember the conversation following Liz’s initial hospital admission, how bemused we were by the whole situation and how we both concluded that low iron levels would surely be due to a small tear or internal haemorrhoids following child birth, “ I mean you’ve always been a bit anaemic haven’t you?”. The idea that it could be anything else honestly didn’t register.

Once Covid restrictions began to ease, myself and my husband, along with our 2 daughters escaped to the seaside and spent a week in Norfolk. It unfortunately coincided with the date Liz had been given for her Colonoscopy, but Liz assured me she’d let me know once the procedure was over and not to worry.

After a day on the beach and a fish & chip supper, we made our way back to our accommodation. It was then the text came through from my dad. ‘Bad news I’m afraid, they suspect its bowel cancer’.

In that moment my heart actually stopped beating. I couldn’t catch my breath, my head was spinning, for the first time in my life I think I experienced a panic attack. This surely can’t be real, she’s 32! I couldn’t make sense of anything.

My ever calm and level headed husband spent hours that evening, googling everything, reading out stats, giving me the best case scenarios, “she’s young”, “it’ll have been caught early”, “she probably won’t need any chemo.” I felt like I was underwater, completely helpless, useless, so far away from her and lacking the ability to articulate what I wanted to say to offer some comfort. I don’t remember the rest of the holiday.

Once our worst fears were confirmed, I felt like I was in free fall. I would flit between reading everything I could online. Losing hours researching treatments and absorbing the stories of bowel cancer survivors, then in the next moment hurling my phone across the room and doing anything to distract myself, easier said than done during a global pandemic.

I really struggled with being the older sister. I was gripped by guilt. Why isn’t this happening to me? It should be me. I’m the older one, the unfit one. I’m the protector, it’s my role to look after her and I can’t. I felt lost for a while and out of control, whilst on the surface trying to hold it together for Liz, my parents, Jamie and the girls. After a couple of days, something felt different, maybe it was my body offering up a coping strategy but I woke with a positive mind-set, a fierce unwavering sense that it’s going to be ok, Liz will get through this and by and large, I’ve maintained this positive mind-set ever since.

That’s not to say it hasn’t been bloody tough. It’s utterly heart breaking watching a loved one go through cancer treatment. The constant stream of scans, chemo, operations, blood tests, more scans, more tests. The toll it takes on them mentally and physically leaves you feeling helpless. That anxious sick feeling in the pit of your stomach as you clutch your phone for updates, the endless sleepless nights. The “Yeah I’m fine thanks, are you?” auto response at the school gates, when you’re doing everything not to cry.

There were times when the anger bubbled inside me, I’m a pretty relaxed and easy going person, but I felt myself wanting to scream when neighbours moaned about a dog barking or a deadline for a work project was fast approaching “It doesn’t f@*@ing matter, none of this matters!” I guess this is a completely normal reaction, but I tell you what helped, wine!

For advice on supporting a loved one going through cancer, click here.

Liz is the strongest person I know. I am and will forever be in absolute awe of her and am so thankful I get to be her sister. You’ve got this sis and I’ll be holding your hand at every step.

#bowelcanceruk #bowelcancerawareness #nobutts #nevertooyoung #bowelcancersupport