Fliss

Fliss is one tough chick.

If cancer is a roller-coast, Fliss has done more loop-da-loops than any person should ever have to. To be honest, it’s enough to make you never want to look at a theme park again. And for this reason, I am beyond proud that she trusted me to tell her story.

At age 28, Fliss was diagnosed with breast cancer. She went on to undergo surgery that involved a complete lymph node clear-out on her right side and right latissimus dorsi reconstruction. Essentially take your back muscle and pull it around to make up part of your pectoral muscle. No easy feat. In fact, the surgery caused massive complications, major internal bleeding and kept Fliss on the high-dependency unit for a week.

Along with the surgery came five years of endocrine treatment. Hormones that aim to inhibit the growth of breast cancer cells. And it worked. Until it didn’t. In 2014 Fliss began experiencing pain in her shoulder which progressed down into her arm and hand. Then came the news that every cancer patient dreads. “It’s come back.” That in itself sends shivers down my spine and makes my toes curl. It’s come back.

In January of 2015, Fliss began what would be seven cycles of chemotherapy. And it all seemed worth it when, at the end of the chemo, she was told that the doctor’s could not really see any more cancer. She was put on a new regime of endocrine treatment, which kept things at bay for a further two years.

By the end of 2017 though, things were not as they should have been. Fliss was having trouble catching her breath just walking up stairs and by January 2018, she was back on chemotherapy. Like the hellish-rollercoaster that cancer is, she was in the midst of yet another loop. On top of the chemo, fluid had gathered around her lung and so, for three months, Fliss had a chest drain.

“The district nurses came regularly to drain the fluid away and after a couple of rounds of chemo the fluid stopped coming back.”

After finishing those six cycles of chemo, a scan revealed that there were still small lesions on Fliss’ lungs and she was put back on the original endocrine treatment to hopefully keep them under control. If only things were that straight-forward.

Fliss developed a cough that she just couldn’t shake and by January 2019, when everyone else was deep into their New Year’s Resolutions, Fliss was told that she had developed masses on her lungs. More chemo. This time of the oral variety.

When asked about the emotions that come with an ordeal such as this, Fliss uses words so often used by the tough women I have interviewed. Anger. Guilt. Shame. Fear. She goes on though, putting into words the emotions that swirl within her.

“Uncertainty of never knowing when the bomb will explode. Knowing that you are not going to make old age and that you are going to break people’s hearts when the disease finally wins.”

Always thinking of others.

Fliss explains that there is nothing that has helped her come to terms with the situation she finds herself in. Instead, she has learned practicality and to compartmentalise so that she can go on with her life.

“People ask if I am all better now and I have to explain that secondary cancer is something that you cannot recover from. It will never be gone, it will never be beaten. It is just a case of management for as long as possible.”

Through all of what Fliss has endured, you would expect that onlookers would have been nothing but supportive. I mean, how could you not support a woman who has been through so much? While she is lucky to have her husband and her parents, unfortunately not everyone has been kind with their words.

“I remember someone once said to me that that maybe the reason that it came back is because I didn’t believe that it wouldn’t enough…yeah thanks, put the blame on me. Anything that makes us feel like it is our fault, we weren’t positive enough, we didn’t fight hard enough.”

Fliss’ situation is, for want of a better word, crap. And she simply wants others to acknowledge that. Fliss doesn’t want to be told to stay positive. Or to be told that she will get better. She simply wants people to acknowledge the reality that she faces day in and day out.

“I just want people to be honest about the realism of my situation, I have to face it everyday and I can’t deal with protecting the feelings of others. The situation sucks but it is what it is.”

And it’s not just onlookers. It seems that family and friends, in Fliss’ words, “get tired of dealing with the illness.” She has lost friends and has given up the fight of protecting others’ feelings. Nine years is a long time to feel guilty. To feel like you need to justify yourself.

“People quite often don’t realise I am sick because I don’t look sick. Sometimes I feel like I have to justify my tiredness or lack of energy.”

While Fliss goes on with treatment, she knows her life will never be as she planned.

“I always used to dream of being a mum and having a family but that will never happen. I cannot have children and I am not allowed to adopt as I am too high risk. That broke and still breaks my heart. I don’t feel like my life is mine anymore.”

As for advice, for anyone going through difficult times, Fliss is understanding and well-rounded in her answer. She recommends keeping a gratitude journal on one hand, but undertaking counselling on the other. At the end of the day, Fliss knows, as we all should, that when shit goes wrong, we all just need to find what works for us.

The most incredible part of Fliss’ story, I think, is that she has more good days than bad. There are still bad days where despair takes over and sucks Fliss into a black hole of hurt. But there are also good days where she finds laughter and joy and things that make her smile. And that, is something to celebrate. Because if Fliss is finding joy and gratitude in her life, then we should all be taking a leaf out of her book and doing the damn same. What a woman.

P.S. Fuck you cancer.

Update: Fliss passed away on 10th September 2019 as the ultimate tough chick. I’m so blessed to have told her story.