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Melanoma Patients Australia

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Ann's Story

My first blue lump appeared on my wrist in early September 2008.  My GP referred me on to a physiotherapist, believing it to be some sort of repetitive strain injury.  The physio set some exercises and I dutifully completed them all.

In October, I went on holiday believing that all was well.  Within days, I started to get pain in my underarms and around my breasts but I put it down to muscular strain as I had been swimming every day after weeks of inactivity. 

I also noted how tired and irritable I was but these I attributed to menopause, my full time work load, my part time study and my two sons.  So I was not unduly concerned until the appearance of blue lump number 2. I grew a lump per day and returned to Melbourne for a biopsy.

You just know something is wrong when a medical specialist calls you; “Ann, it’s John, can we have a chat?”

He doesn’t mess about; it’s stage IV melanoma with metastases in my brain, lungs and lymph nodes located under my arms.  The blue lumps that appeared on my body now have a name- they’re secondaries but they can’t find a primary site.  

I make appointments to see oncologists later that week and return to work.  I know I can’t go back to life as it was, I know I have to take this news on board and go forward.  A wise friend uses the word “transcend”.  She says I need to enfold this into my previous experience and transcend but I don’t know how to enfold.  Another wise friend notes that I have two choices; I can believe that this illness is random or pre ordained.  Either way, I need to decide if I believe I am cursed or believe that I am blessed.

Three days later, I see the first oncologist who suggests chemotherapy.  I also see a second oncologist who tells me to enjoy this Christmas as it may be my last.   I decide to go with the first oncologist; he is hopeful and caring.  Anxious and fearful, I start chemo, three weeks before Christmas 2008.  I remember a line in poem about fog that creeps in on little cat’s feet- panic is a lot like fog.

It’s now almost September 2009. I’m not dead yet and I will see another Christmas. Months of chemotherapy has worked; the tumour in my brain has shrunk from 21mm to 7mm, the one in my lung is now down to 10mm.  I resigned from my hectic job and am enjoying life at a slower pace.  I spend more time with friends and family. I’ve holidayed in Hong Kong with my sons, set up a small consultancy practice and returned to university.

I still have cancer, I still have far to go but I have learned to transcend.