Fleur Peacock's Cancer Journey

I can’t believe it’s been 8 months since my husband and I moved to Berlin, business is going great, life is so amazing, after the year of stress, relocation and rebuild of my business everything seems to be finally coming together. Waking up every morning feeling excited for the day, hearing the world wake up but no longer with the sea but the hustle and bustle of Berlin. I swapped seagulls for well…crows.  I’d just secured a job where I was hosting mindset sessions on a fitness retreat. See, retreats are my favourite place to be and after hosting myself in Spain and the UK, to be invited by someone else to be their mindset coach – a dream come true.  “That’s weird, there’s this lump on the top of my boob, am I tripping out or is that a lump?” Hi, I’m Fleur and this is my cancer journey.  A few years ago I had a lump in my armpit and with cancer in the family it was concerning, I wasn’t sure but it was good to get it checked out. I was told nothing to worry about, I just had dense breast tissue. So, I’m sure this is just the same right? I’ve got one of my proudest joboffers to date, being invited to speak, me, I can’t think about that now, I have to nail this retreat.  The retreat was amazing but I returned home with what felt like an even bigger pebble sitting at the top of my breast. I booked the gynaecologist for my smear and thought she can check that out too. I was referred and referred again. They moved quickly and with each appointment each nurse gave me little Hansel and Gretel clues which led me to the confirmation on December 18th 2023 – “I’m sorry it is a cancer diagnosis”.  In that moment, I felt in acceptance. Was I expecting this? Did this feel that this was supposed to be my path? In a way yes. Family history, statistics, I would be lying if it hadn’t crossed my mind that maybe one day it would be me. Then the impact of fertility, losing my hair, my freedom, not being able to fly home, everything else dropped into place and I broke down.  Making the decision to stay in Germany was a no brainer for me, staying next to my husband and animals, plus the healthcare had already shown incredible speed, trust and friendliness. I had an army behind me, distance didn’t seem so far away.  I was due to be flying home to see my Mum and Dad who couldn’t travel straight after Christmas, but they were getting me moving with treatment straight away, I just wanted to squeeze them and hold them tight but I had to wait.  A side note of fun that was happening alongside was, thank you to Brexit (!) as part of my visa of moving to Germany I had to integrate into German society as I wasn’t in German employment. Fabulous idea, terrible timing. I had to attend German school to learn the language 4 times a week, 4 hours a day plus homework for 9 months with no allowed time off (!!), we were only a month in after diagnosis. I could have stopped but if life was changing anyway, I might as well carry on. Although let me tell you German plus Chemotherapy, I’ve had cuter relationships let’s put it that way.  Fast forward a month after scans, blood test after blood test, fertility treatment of freezing my eggs, the first week of treatment was here (liquid sunshine). I knew I wasn’t going to let cancer (Clive as I called it – please no disrespect to any Clive’s out there, I needed to change the loaded language), steal my sunshine. I’m ready to step into this, I am ready to take this on with whatever it needed, strength, power, sunshine and everything else in between. After a moment of fear of wondering whether this was the beginning of the end, I knew I couldn’t let my brain go down that path. I am having immune supressing medications; I need my personality, mindset, years of self-work, learning and tools more than ever and that’s withspreading big sunshine energy of course along the way.  Sure, I questioned what on earth was happening with my life as I was lying in big machines topless in a middle of a German hospital or while hooked up to an IV, this isn’t meant for me? This stuff doesn’t happen to me. But it does.  The bubble of invincibility has been popped. It’s like finding out the Santa Claus of life isn’t real. I was desperately searching online for that “hack” for liquid sunshine (chemotherapy), information to let me know what to expect, what I should do/use throughout the process but all it was quite honestly was unconscious self-torturing. After my first round of chemotherapy, losing 10kg in 2 days, every symptom there was to get, feeling lifeless sitting in a chair, having to be lying down every minute, I knew there was no secret hack or even a huge amount of information. Yes possibilities of symptoms or things to consider but nothing specific. Every experience, reaction, coping strategy, environment, body, cancer and beyond is different.  I guess you can’t really bring much articulation to it’s going to be sh*t, strap in. Nothing prepares you, nothing can.  Despite choosing to give myself a buzz cut before the medication took all my hair and my hair style starting to look like I had ordered a leopard print hat from Wish, who was this staring back at me?  Shoulders rounded, pale skin, black eyes, weak, not a rosy cheek in sight. The women lifting weights, dancing around the kitchen, laughing until she was crying with friends, where is she? Where is she? WHERE IS SHE?  Staring into the abyss, turning up to German school, hearing the words but they aren’t being absorbed, I say I don’t know, I smile, desperately trying to connect with something, anything, please, but no.  It’s hard to sit in trust of a medicine to make you feel better that makes you feel so awful. You can feel it whirling and swirling round your body like an ink drop into water. The colours dancing round your body, reaching every part of you slowly weakening and absorbing your energy, but you must trust. Trust it to be right.  After having to move apartments halfway through, prepare for German exams and keeping running my business of course, the final treatment day of chemotherapy came.  Two days before I had an ultrasound at the doctors, the treatment was working, the tumour had drastically reduced. It was bloody working.  You’d expect elevation, huge pressure release but for me it didn’t really feel that way, I felt relief of course, but it just felt like reaching the base of another mountain. Operation, radiotherapy, IV with antibodies for another year. I don’t know if I can do this, I want it overbut, it is far from over. Plus the next day we had to put my beloved cat down, I couldn’t connect to happiness, he was my boy. My shadow, by my side always, sleeping on my chest (he was fuming when my hair disappeared as he couldn’t snuggle in as well!). He also had cancer out of nowhere, it was too aggressive. It felt like he’d taken it from me, taken all the baddies to the rainbow bridge. I miss him every day.  Being pushed down a dark corridor through a German hospital, eyes are blurry as my glasses have been taken away, people asking me questions in German, seeing the surgical lights, breathe, calm it’s okay, the beeping, masked faced and eyes at all angels, reaching over me,everyone looks the same, where am I? What is this tool used for, it all looks too medical, just breathe, slow and steady just brea…The next minute I wake, still off my head, crying with my doctor because she is telling me that the tumour had gone.  It…has…gone.  17th June 1pm, the long German document gets handed to me and in the same room, same doctor, just like that, the last 7 months become the biggest blur. “It’s the best news we could get, there was no trace of cancer from the biopsy, you are in remission”.  We did it, we bloody did it!!!!  I cried, I cried some again, I cried even more.  But see, this was the hard bit, I could not have been happier, but there was a cloud. A storm cloud that meant I couldn’t fully see the sunshine. My Dad was very unwell, he had returned after a long stint in hospital back to the care home and it was decided he wouldn’t go back to hospital again if needed, he was too weak.As I was celebrating that my cancer had gone and my life was continuing, I was preparing for my Dads ending.  How is this fair? Feels like another punch. Can I really withstand anymore? Eyes puffy, bags heavy, I stare back at myself putting my moisturiser on, as I wake up the next day, getting ready for another routine outlined day. Dog walk, school, clients, dog walk, dinner, work, bed. The cycle continues, everything must continue. It’s fine though, you’re in remission, ‘normality is back’, right? I stare back and feel numbness an emptiness. My mind is quiet, but I can feel it in my body. Is this the emotional regulation and intelligence I wanted to reach? My heads empty there are no thoughts, my body feels full like a cloud just before it releases rain. My brain feels like a fluffy ball of cotton wool. Navigating my way through what grief is again. Back to this place but this time it’s worse, longing to hear the words “Hi Fleurty, it’s Daddy”.  I am desperately in my mind searching for the cupboards to just compartmentalise until school and radiotherapy has finished so I can be with my family, but they’re all full. Running up and down opening every cupboard and drawer but there’s no space. It’s filled with trauma I can’t access yet. I’ve felt when I’ve needed to feel in the moment but the deep deep sadness is buried, I need more space, why is there no space? I remember sitting on the underground, music loud in my ears taking me to that europhic release as everyone steps on and off, I see the reflection of each station in the window in frontof me. My eyes fixed, blank, seeing the small dots of the lights in the underground appear and disappear in seconds as the train moves between stations. It all feels an accurate reflection of this year. I need it to stop, but I can’t stand up, my feet are planted; it’s pulling me back. Speed picks up, onto the next station. My destination isn’t here, or the next one, or the next one.  Then I remember, breathe for those who can’t and it gives me the only power boost I need. Dad is with me, I’m going to do all the things he was always so excited to hear about. Doing all the things he gave me the confidence to do, the lessons, the mentorship, the love. Grief and trauma, what an explosive rollercoaster to feel. Moving through tears rolling down my face to power, grit and joy within seconds. I know things are different now but I am not sure why or how. Cancer has taken and changed me and I am on that path to figure out who I am now.  I’m finding it hard to connect. Connect to my path. Connect to me. Who is me now? People are looking at me through the old lens, but it’s through a new lens now but it’s like a kaleidoscope. Mesmerising, colourful, magical but unclear, no real picture, no real meaning. So here I am, so grateful for the speed and amazing nature of this journey. I don’t wish cancer on anyone but the connection, pride and beauty I see my body and myself in now is incredible.  Hearing my heartbeat for the first time on the scans almost made me cry. Why was I ever getting cross about my stomach in an outfit, or a spot on my chin when my heart is beating,and my body is doing magical things day in and day out.  The colour in my cheeks, the strength to dance to my favourite songs, the life and sparkle in my eyes, the creativity, the adventurer, she’s coming back but evolved, more beautiful and powerful than ever.  Yes, this part might seem scary now knowing how to live in this new chapter with the badge close to my heart, but as my hair starts to take form and grow back it’s time to lift the world up and spread even more sunshine energy. You think if you haven’t gone something like this through this that you would crumble if you did but when it is, your energy shifts. Despite the hard days, you’re in survival mode, taking one tick of the clock at a time. I’ve met and continue to meet the most vibrant, beautiful, incredible women and men. Pockets of joy, love and connection are everywhere, it’s just about opening your eyes and truly seeing.  Yes I had the best doctors, medication and healthcare but it was love that got me through this.It’s now time for me to continue my healing, learning, and spreading my sunshine energy. x