Before cancer I was a fairly active person. I would never describe myself as sporty, because I sucked at competitive sports, but I did have lots of active hobbies. I was a loyal and enthusiastic member of my local pole dancing class, I chilled out at my weekly yoga class and I endured a running hobby for its many benefits, even though I never really caught the "running bug".
I was able to keep up some of these hobbies during chemotherapy, but my participation became sporadic and my overall fitness took a massive hit over the treatment. One of the things I was most looking forward to, after treatment, was getting my fitness and strength back. I dreamed of picking up exactly where I left off but it soon became apparent that wasn't going to happen. Firstly, half way through chemo, the pole studio I have been attending for the last 15 years, closed my local class. Next, my favourite yoga class also closed. Finally, as I moved to my second type of chemo, my fitness plummeted and I became breathless at the slightest exertion. I wouldn't have a hope of keeping up with the school mums as I was already the slowest in the group, pre-treatment. The fitness goals I was dreaming of seemed unreachable and I was gutted.
I spent a bit of time mourning my fitness losses; the time with friends, the comforting familiarity of the routine, the sense of pride and achievement from making progress and the feeling of well being. Then, after a good cry, I decided to focus on what I could do, instead of what I couldn't. I walked a number of fun runs with friends, colleagues and family, including some fun obstacle races and the mum's race at my son's sports day. My shrunken world started to grow again.
Chemo finished in May and after a few weeks later I had my surgery. I felt infinitely better as the majority of chemo side effects had passed, but I had to wait for my 3 week post surgery check up before I could begin any new fitness routine. One sunny day in June, the day after my surgeon gave the green light, I downloaded the couch to 5km app and went for my first run. Despite running regularly before treatment I started on week 1, day 1. It was perfect, challenging, but not too challenging. I persuaded some fabulous friends, to join me for my next one, they were absolute and rather reluctant beginners and so the "hating running together" running group was born! We ran 3 times a week, for four weeks and I could feel myself getting stronger. My sense of belonging, fitness and friendship was returned. My world grew even more with these new experiences, but I still missed the unique challenge and achievement that I get from pole. I looked into some new studios that I might be able to join after treatment finished and I taught my friends a few basic moves at home just to get me back on the pole. I saw an advert online for flying trapeze lessons and decided to ask for one for my 40th birthday at the end of August! The last beginner lessons were scheduled for a month after my scheduled "active treatment" finish date; so it seemed a fitting goal to aim for.
The school summer holidays were approaching, the worst of the cancer treatment was behind me, my recovery plan was going well so far, I only had radiotherapy to go!
Then I had a phone call...
"Kat, we're not going ahead with tomorrow's herceptin injection, your routine heart scan has shown a reduction in heart function and your oncologist wants to discuss the implications at the team meeting"
My heart! My heart is damaged? Suddenly the breathlessness and dizziness that I experience when I run seem less innocent. Suddenly I'm not just a new runner, out of shape, I'm a a heart attack waiting to happen. I was scared to push myself and the dizzying, blazing heat of the summer heat wave didn't help. I stopped running. And the fear made my world shrink.
Radiotherapy came and went with little drama other than a return, towards the end, of whole body fatigue, familiar from chemo days. Then it finally arrived, without ceremony, the last radiotherapy session. My last "active cancer" treatment. There was no big goodbye, no life advice, no "all clear" from the consultant; just the same radiotherapy technician, showing me to the same door I walked out of every day for the last 3 weeks. I was suddenly there, at the end, but it didn't really feel like the end of anything. My next herceptin injection, my next heart scan, my next routine blood test, my next physiotherapy appointment, my next consultant appointment, were all in the diary. I was still very fatigued, still anxious of my "reduced heart function" status, still had tightness across my surgery scars, still had sore skin, damaged veins and a sensitive gut. My world was feeling smaller and I longed for the freedom, friendship and achievement that I get from fitness.
4 days after my last treatment, I celebrated my 40th birthday. I got my trapeze lesson voucher as requested and was determined to work hard at my physiotherapy and be well enough to do my lesson. The next heart scan was an improvement on the last one and I was now, just within the normal range. My range of movement in my arms also improved and my skin, although it got worse at first, did then start to get better again. The anxiety started to fade and I began to believe life was heading in the right direction.
My trapeze lesson was just a week away, when I walked to the hospital for an appointment and had an unexpected mild dizzy spell and heart palpitations. When I got to my appointment, I fainted during a routine blood test, something which isn't normal for me. I had my Herceptin injection and a few days later I had another mild dizzy spell with palpitations on another gentle walk. I won't lie, I was scared. I'm a risk adverse person and I felt the need to avoid all exertion with immediate effect. I wanted medical reassurance and a guarantee that I wasn't going to keel over. I phoned my breast cancer nurse helpline and left a message, I phoned my consultant and left a message. I was half expecting to be called back immediately and to be sent straight to A&E, but the response was utterly underwhelming. No one, except me, seemed especially concerned.
So I had my clear heart scan result and some mildly terrifying symptoms that no one seemed too concerned about... Do I do my trapeze lesson or do I cancel?
I decided to go.
I was very nervous, and I did get mild dizziness and a pounding heart early in my lesson, but I decided to ignore it! I exerted myself more and more, but much to my surprise, my symptoms didn't worsen. I rationalised that I had taken enough sensible precautions and that I didn't want health anxiety to take this experience away from me. So I climbed the ladder again and again and I flew; it was bloody terrifying, but amazing.
The trapeze lesson gave me a huge sense of achievement, but it also gave me much more than that. It gave me my "new normal". I now know that the heart palpitations and mild dizziness are normal for me; I can be aware of them without being afraid of them. Emboldened with my new knowledge, I started couch to 5km again today and with that, my world just got bigger again.
Health anxiety after cancer is real, but I am determined not to let it shrink my world.
