It's been 13 years since Emma Campbell was first told she had breast cancer. In those years, she's had two further diagnoses, raised four children, suffered heartbreak and lost a number of loved ones, including her dear friend Dame Deborah James.
The mum has been on a terrifying journey but despite the fact that she's going to live with cancer and have chemotherapy treatment for the rest of her life, she claims she's lucky. On World Cancer Day, she explains in her own words what it's been like to live with the disease for so long and shares the changes she's experienced in her body that you shouldn't ignore.
How's life?
It's one of those throwaway questions, isn't it? A polite pleasantry, a casual exchange. But how often do we really give an honest answer? And for those of us living with cancer - we're all too aware that the answer can change in a moment.
I've been a cancer patient for nearly thirteen years. I'm a patient for life. I won't get to ring the bell or raise a glass to celebrate the end of treatment but I'm here, currently stable, on regular targeted chemotherapy and doing well. I'm one of the lucky ones.
I've had a fair amount of drama over the last decade or so. From an initial diagnosis back in 2010 (whilst navigating life as a newly single mum of triplets and their big brother) to being told I had secondary breast cancer at the end of 2014.
There have been months, even years at a time, when I didn't know whether I was coming or going - life was happening to me and I very rarely felt in charge of my own destiny.
One of the biggest life lessons I've learned over the last few years, as I've also navigated diagnosis number three, grieved the loss of dear friends and my own personal heartbreak - is that community and connection is everything. It's the difference between surviving, treading water and barely scraping through to finding a way to thrive, to truly live - despite the challenges we face.
They say it takes a village to raise a child (or in my case, a town to help raise triplets!) well, it takes a community to find a way of coming to terms with a cancer diagnosis.
It's the shared vocabulary, the emotional safety and the priceless gift of finding those who are able to hold you when you crumble, no words necessary, just gentle, steady holding. If we're lucky, the right friends and family members are able to offer that support but it's also okay to look beyond - there are so many of us who are also just putting one foot in front of the other each day, often tripping and stumbling but also striding and skipping too.
When I became aware that my cancer treatment would continue for life, I was terrified. Even looking at the hospital letter headed paper, storing the number in my phone, every connection with the building that seemed to represent death, felt like trauma. But those feelings have changed, slowly, drip by drip, over time. And yes, I can put a lot of that down to my own acceptance but a huge factor is the support, care, compassion and understanding that I’m shown with every interaction I have whilst at the hospital.
It really is the subtle things. A smile that reaches the eyes from the lady who offers tea or coffee, a mouthed 'how are you' as an overstretched nurse hurries by. A hand squeezed when the tears flow, upbeat chit-chat one day and simply listening the next.
Busy clinics, patients with much greater physical needs than mine but in those moments when I'm crumbling and my oncologist leans forward in his chair or his body language shifts ever so slightly, I know that I'm safe. Emotionally safe. He's giving me his time and focus and it's something that I never take for granted.
Surely, that should be the norm?
This year's World Cancer Day theme is 'Close the Care Gap' - coming together, celebrating progress in its many forms. Progress that enables more people to seek and receive the care they need and deserve. Everyone deserves the best treatment, the best chance of life but surely that shouldn’t be something they have to fight for?
I have a confession to make. In the months leading up to each devastating 'yes, it's cancer' moment - I've ignored symptoms. Actually, that's not true. I haven't ignored symptoms, I was acutely aware of changes in my breast and the lump under my armpit all those years ago, and then, the rash on my chest that led to my stage four diagnosis and the lumps and bumps that were finally diagnosed in 2019. I've prodded, poked, inspected my skin under bright lights and magnified mirrors, my gut telling me that something was wrong. But, each time, I did nothing. I was simply too scared. Too terrified to just pick up the phone and get checked out. And so, the weeks and months ticked by and the symptoms worsened, the lumps got bigger and the anxiety consumed every moment.
We all know the drill. We know to check our boobs, observe our bowel movements, the mole that has changed or the cough that still lingers. We know what to do but, doing it is a whole other matter.
So, if you're reading this right now and there's something that's just not feeling right and yet you're too scared to take action, I get it. Your fear is normal. You are not alone, however, isolated you might feel. Please make that call, book the appointment and whatever the outcome, you'll be so glad you did.
For me, it took a social media platform and seeing how others thrived that helped me so much. For you, it might be different. You might be reading this untouched by cancer and I really hope that's the case. But, if it's not, don’t suffer alone. Reach out. Don’t be too afraid of the terrifying stories to find the ones full of hope. They are out there, I promise. The stories of cure and long-term survival. That's all any of us want and it's definitely what we all deserve.
You can learn more about Emma's story on Instagram @limitless_em and on her podcast Open with Emma Campbell, which is available now on Apple and Spotify.
