"You have cancer."
This is the one sentence we all dread to hear but yet somehow think it will never happen to us. This is how my journey into the biggest operation a person can have began.
In early August of 2023, I went into my local hospital - East Surrey Hospital - for what was going to be removal of an ovarian cyst which had been discovered during an ultrasound scan.
My CA125 level was slightly raised but nothing that caused alarm bells. My CT Scan showed there was some inflammation on my appendix, so I was advised while they were taking a 17cm cyst out they would also be teaming up with a bowel surgeon so he can take my appendix.
When I met with my gynecology team, they said my levels could be raised due to many things. The cyst or endometriosis could cause the inflammation so I wasn't worried even after losing my mother two years ago to bowel cancer.
I had full confidence heading into my surgery. It was just a cyst, right? They were removing it (a laparotomy) and after a night's rest, I'd be out the next day, recover, and my life would continue pain-free! But something deep inside always feared the big C was coming for me.
On August 8, 2023, will forever be known as "Diagnosis Day" - the day my life changed forever.
Laying in the room after my operation, I was feeling proud I made it. I'd been afraid because this was my first operation I ever had in my life, along with being put under general anesthetic. When you go under, you can't help but wonder, "Will I be ok? Will I wake up?" It all clouds your mind.
One of the nurses came into the room and asked me when my partner was arriving. "Soon," I said. "He is just getting ready now. Why? What's wrong?" She immediate responded, "Oh nothing, just your consultant wants to come and discuss the operation with you and how it went, etc." I said ok and felt relieved.
My partner arrived, and ten minutes later my consultants walked in with a nurse and a lady from a cancer support group called Macmillian.
My consultant sat next to my bedside and said, "It's great to see you smiling again!" Little did I know she was about to wipe that smile from my face and change my life with the news I was about to hear.
She explained the operation went well and the cyst was removed and was fluid-filled and showed no malignant features at all.
Then came the however line.
"However, we couldn't take your appendix out." I looked at her with confusion and asked why not. She replied, "I'm very sorry Faye, we found a cancer." As soon as I heard those words, my body felt numb. My instant question was where did they find cancer!? My biggest fearing they would say my bowel, just like my mother.
She replied "On your appendix."
Huh? Appendix?
The consultant said "Yes, it's a tumour on your appendix. It's been there a while and it's slow growing."
I could not believe what I was hearing! In all honesty, it felt like I was watching someone else's life unfold in front of me, like an April Fool's trick or a joke. But it wasn't. It was my reality! My partner was crying, but I was too numb to even shed a tear. Directly in front in my hospital room was a mirror. I looked at myself and said to my partner, "Here we go, I'm gonna die. I'm gonna be like mum, I'm gonna die. I'm not gonna survive this."
My consultant then left the room.
The Macmillian nurse finally explained to me the cancer was slow growing and there were some deposits on my small bowel, but just on the outside. They had taken a biopsy which would come back in two weeks time then we would know what we are dealing with for sure. I asked her to please be honest if this was going to kill me. She said, "Noooo, don't be silly! It will be another operation called a right hemicolectomy. We will take the tumour and the few deposits out and that's it. Then some chemotherapy as a safety net."
Of course, I asked "Chemotherapy?! Will I lose my hair?"
She said no, it wasn't that kind of chemotherapy.
Then she left me and my partner alone, and together, we faced the reality that I have cancer at 38. The room felt like someone had just put a massive dark cloud over my head and I just couldn't process anything. I just laid there, numb.
I was discharged later that day and arrived home, not knowing what my future looked like anymore, or even if I had a future.
I saw my two year pup Neville, who I got after losing mum and thought, I'm so sorry I won't get to see you grow old.
"I'm so sorry!" I said to my partner. "I'm so sorry that we won't grow old together and my time will soon be done here. Five years maybe, if I'm lucky, just like mum."
I just couldn't see any hope for me and the next days felt dark. I laid in bed crying mostly all day and night, trying to Google things without even knowing the type of cancer I actually had. At this point, I just Googled appendix cancer and saw results with horror stories and Audrey Hepburn come up.
I remained in bed for weeks on end, looking at funeral plans, not wanting to be a financial burden on my partner. I felt all of this was my fault. I asked myself why my partner should pay for my funeral and be left with that problem? So I looked at plans and started mapping out what music I wanted and everything. He told me, "Stop this now, stop it! We don't know the biopsy results yet!"
Every Tuesday, the teams would meet for an MDT, and every Tuesday, I would get a call with the same line: "I'm sorry, we haven't been able to discuss you yet. We don't have your biopsy back." This went on like for five weeks and it made me spiral so fast I threw my phone against the wall after one call and sat screaming, "No! Why are you messing with my life?"
I was so frustrated knowning this cancer could be killing me and all the time they told me it wasn't doing anything at present! How did they know!? Like that's meant to make you feel better when you know you have a disease inside you that could kill you!
In the end, we had to file a complaint and the results came back a week later. Did the complaint push things along? Maybe. Either way, little did I know this was the catalyst of what was to come. And what a long, strange trip it's been.
Faye Louise is a frequent contributor to the Fighting Pretty blog. Faye is from West Sussex, England and was diagnosed with a rare type of Appendix Cancer after having cramps from what she thought was her menstral cycle. Faye has been Fighting Pretty through her experience and shares story to provide hope and strength to all women diagnosed with cancer. As a model, flight dispatcher and fierce fighter, Faye is truly a bright light in this world.
To learn more and continue to be inspired by Faye, follower her on Instagram at: @faye.louiseuk