TRAVELLER'S REST

Rachel Lynne was diagnosed with breast cancer at just 27. For the past two years Rachel has had to put aside her backpack and rest her traveller’s feet; she is now focused on her journey back to health. Natural therapy with mistletoe has helped to set her on the road to recovery.

“I’d just graduated from the University of East Anglia in 2004 with a degree in International Development, and was enjoying working in my favourite café bar whilst applying for jobs when life dealt me a card I wasn’t expecting. I discovered a small lump on the side of my left breast whilst on holiday in Italy with friends; we were celebrating the end of our finals. The position of the lump made it easy to feel. I count my lucky stars, because if it had been more central in the breast I might not have discovered it. I had not been advised to check my breasts regularly and at my age mammography was not standard! Everyone reassured me that it would be nothing.

Back in the UK I went to my GP who reassured me that it was most likely benign. My age and the absence of any family history of breast cancer made me an unlikely candidate. I was referred for further tests and in October went for a needle biopsy and waited for my results. I wasn’t worried and carried on as normal. I was busy moving house and had just celebrated my 27th birthday. Two weeks later I’d heard nothing, and hoped no news was good news. I contacted the hospital to find out if they’d got my results and they told me I was booked in to see the consultant in a couple of hours’ time! The letter confirming my appointment had accidentally been sent to my old address.

So I cycled over to the hospital, totally unprepared. When three consultants greeted me, I knew something must be up and I remember feeling a surge in my stomach. What were they going to tell me?

Breast cancer! It was such a shock. So much to take in. My world stood still and I felt a numbed nothingness. I tried calling my mother but she was at work. I was in a total fog for several hours. I decided to go straight to my boyfriend Dan’s house. Quite how I got myself there I do not know. I remember I fell through his door and he caught me. It was then that it hit me and I just cried and cried as he held me tight. I cried for days.

When I told my mother she reassured me and mentioned Park Attwood straight away. She said she’d help me sort things out, and she came and collected me. A week later having given up my job and student life in Norwich I found myself back at my mother’s in Gloucestershire and in hospital. I had a lumpectomy and a sample of lymph node taken, and went home to recover, with the prospect of six months of chemotherapy, radiotherapy and five years of Tamoxifen treatment.

My mother had previously been a patient at Park Attwood and had had a positive experience there, and joined their Patient Plan to cover the cost of any future care for her and her family. The Clinic also helped me apply for a couple of bursaries from charitable Trusts, because I had large student debts, and I was able to obtain funding for my stay.

When my mother had stayed at Park Attwood, she’d met some patients who had tried mistletoe, so thanks to her recommendation I went along to find out more. Because I was only in my twenties and had not yet had children, I was very concerned about the potential effects on my fertility of the various cancer treatments.

My whole world had fallen apart, and my previously carefree student lifestyle had been turned into chaos. My career plans were now unrealistic: travel was out of the question. I had slipped into a black hole, stumbling from one hospital appointment to another, with all sorts of well-meant but often confusing advice. For the first time in my life I was confronting my own mortality, and it was scary.

As soon as I arrived at Park Attwood it felt the right place for me. I was immediately struck by the beautiful surrounding countryside. When I walked through the door on a blustery November day I was greeted by a lovely dog and a crackling fire. It was homely and felt safe. I was able to relax a little at last. For the first three days I just slept. The trauma of diagnosis and surgery had really taken their toll.

I then had my first lot of mistletoe injections and felt that I was doing something positive to rebuild my immune system. I also found art therapy beneficial: the veil painting was very soothing and comforting. In the sculpture therapy sessions I did an abstract exercise modelling shapes in clay to represent different feelings or emotions. They were quite symbolic. I remember working on each one individually and thinking through how I was feeling, and coming to terms with my situation as I considered each one. When I put all the shapes together I realised that this little assembly was actually quite beautiful. It softened my feelings and was quite reassuring. I remember taking a photograph of the group and feeling I had achieved something significant.

From the age of 19 I’d travelled extensively in India and south east Asia, followed by a year in Australia. During my travels I picked up a series of tummy bugs, and had suffered both diarrhoea and Giardia which made it difficult for me to absorb crucial nutrients from my food. I’d been prescribed strong courses of antibiotics, and my immune system was severely compromised. Years of food allergies and sensitivities followed and it is only now that I feel my digestive system is back on track.

The food at Park Attwood was mostly organic and vegetarian. It was a relief to find that they could cater well for my individual dietary needs and preferences. They even gave me my freshly squeezed carrot juice three times a day! A lot of attention to detail goes into the menu and the smell of baking and home-cooking wafts through the house – it’s so nice to find a clinic that isn’t clinical!

I responded well to the mistletoe, and felt that it was reviving my immune system. The first few fevers put me into an almost delirious state which was a little disconcerting but I was closely monitored. Looking back I see it was a really powerful experience, and strangely energising. With hindsight I can appreciate that this was a valuable turning point. I was taught to self-administer a weekly dose of mistletoe. I do get a little redness and inflammation at the site of the injection, and a slight feeling of fatigue, but both are bearable and I just make this day my rest day. I missed my treatment one week, and I realised what a difference it was making to my overall sense of wellbeing. I felt completely out of sorts and a bit tearful without it. Apart from the physical benefits, the mistletoe keeps me together, and grounds me emotionally.

Once the initial crisis and the frenzied activity of immediate survival had passed, I had to face the daunting prospect of staying well. In March this year I felt at a low ebb, and had to adjust to finding a steady way forward though the post-traumatic period. I feel I have a responsibility to keep well. It is hard work sometimes and can be lonely as I have not been able to work much and my social life is restricted by my limited energy levels. But it is also a joy to know that I am living my life in the healthiest possible way. I focus on wellbeing: eating well, juicing, exercising, resting, and being as faithful as possible to my own evolving process.

After extensive research and deliberation I decided to compromise on the conventional treatment and opted for a combined hormone suppressing regime of Zoladex and Tamoxifen. The side-effects are debilitating however: hot sweats, night sweats and resulting sleeplessness, dizziness and occasional nausea, lack of vitality and energy and low mood. I recently stopped the Zoladex and am hopeful that the side-effects will soon abate.

When I was applying for jobs I had hoped to find an internship with a NGO, charity or agency overseas. When I was travelling I saw a lot of poverty and malnutrition, and the idea of getting actively involved with aid has always appealed. I’ve had to postpone this plan for the time being because I need to be in a country with good healthcare, good nutrition and sanitised water. I am not yet strong enough to withstand any other health problems. So I’ve had to rethink what I want to do as a career.

Having breast cancer has made me increasingly aware of what I put into and onto my body, and organic natural living is now a fundamental part of my life. Being ill has been the biggest challenge of my life so far, but it has also taught me a lot. Beneath the challenge to live after cancer is a golden thread that keeps me connected to a longing and lust for life. Never before have I wanted life as much as I do now. That is a beautiful thing. My eyes feel somehow wider, the sun somehow brighter, the trees greener and the skies bluer. I had a clear mammogram this year. As the time passes and my two year milestone approaches, I feel increasingly safer and less afraid. I am also determined that I have fought this thing. I won’t let it come back!

My boyfriend Dan has just moved to Gloucestershire to live with me, which is wonderful. Although we’d been friends for three years at university, it was only after graduation and a month before my diagnosis that we started dating. Amazingly he stood by me and although the last few years have been incredibly tough, we’ve both come a long way and now look forward to the future. It’s been quite a journey for both of us!

Dan is an ecologist, and an interest in nature is something that we share. This autumn I’m going to Greece to work on an organic farm and am really looking forward to it. It will be the first time I’ve travelled on my own for a couple of years, working independently. It’s an important step for me. I‘m looking forward to planting and harvesting, and working in the fresh air. Dan is coming out to join me for a couple of weeks’ holiday at the end of my trip. It will be great to go off on my travels once again.”