I always wanted to have finished having my children before I turned 40. My youngest son, John, was due to be born a few days after my 40th birthday. He arrived without intervention two hours and twenty minutes before the stroke of midnight on the day before my 40th. Of course, I take full credit for this. His birth certificate says that maternal age is 39. I know that it is actually 39 years, 364 days, 21 hours and 40 minutes but my goal was achieved!
I tell you this because it helps to understand how in control I like to be and how, for me, work was a saviour.
I found the breast lump three days after John's first birthday. Being a medical practitioner, I convinced my conscious self that it was probably just a blocked duct. Subconsciously however, I am sure that I was aware of what I was dealing with. I made an urgent appointment with my GP in the middle of the day. I never schedule GP appointments in the middle of the working day! She had a pretty definitive XRay diagnosis within an hour of my appointment with her, and the pathology was available within 18 hours.
I work two jobs - four days a week I work in an office environment and a half a day a week I work in a clinical setting. I was scheduled to work a clinical shift the day that I was diagnosed. I am embarrassed to say that I had to tell one of my bosses of my diagnosis before I told my husband. I had to explain to my boss why I was in no condition to drive across town to work the session. My initial denial had meant that I hadn't told my husband about the breast lump.
Over the years I had accumulated a great deal of leave. Nevertheless, I chose to return to work as soon as I was physically able to following surgery. I worked through 12 courses of chemotherapy and then through radiotherapy. There were days when I felt like dying but I still got out of bed, showered, dressed, put on make up, put on my head scarves and went to work.
The employers at my office based work were extremely tolerant, allowing me to work shorter days when I was tired. Towards the end of the chemotherapy, I was asked whether I would be willing to fill in as CEO in an acting capacity. In retrospect, I see the madness of agreeing to this.
Why did I go to work? There were a variety of reasons. I have always worked so it is a way of life. I even took in work during my two periods of maternity leave. I like the structure of going to work and the sense of purpose it gives me. If I am to be honest, it was also about trying to maintain some level of control when my body had failed me and the treatment was brutal. To be fatalistic, it was also about trying to maintain some distance so my children would not become overly dependent on me.
For me, work was therapeutic. It was a welcome distraction from my negative thoughts. My colleagues were absolutely amazing. They were genuinely interested but respectful. They allowed me to hide in my office during the days that I felt really unwell. They asked me how I was and listened when I told them. I was disappointed to find that a number of close friends did not know how to deal with my diagnosis and became very distant during treatment. As I reach the end of treatment, I realise how lonely I would have been without the company at work.
I am lucky. I was able to go to work because of the additional help that was available. I was able to take sick leave from my clinical job to lessen the load. My parents were an enormous help, particularly with caring for my children and with what I affectionately call "meals on wheels". We also hired a gem of a cleaning lady who also happens to iron and we ordered take out when we weren't up to cooking and tried to ignore the things that were not done.
I understand that working while being treated for breast cancer is not for everyone. For many of us, the treatment is brutal, and it is difficult to keep in focus that the ultimate aim of treatment for early breast cancer is cure. For me however, working helped me get through it all, with my sanity, perspective and humour largely intact.
--Joanne
