Victoria Derbyshire journalist, was getting ready for work one morning in July 2015 when she quickly typed the words ‘inverted nipple’ into Google.
Two months later, she was being wheeled into surgery for a mastectomy.That simple, hurried Google search prompted the respected BBC broadcaster to see a doctor, who diagnosed her with breast cancer.In her new book Dear Cancer, Love Victoria, Derbyshire - a Manchester-born mother of two - candidly documents the significant moments of her cancer experience.
Not long after her diagnosis, the 48-year-old broke the news to her two young sons, telling them there was “something funny going on” with her breasts.
Not long after her diagnosis, the 48-year-old broke the news to her two young sons, telling them there was “something funny going on” with her breasts.
“It soon evolves into a fabulously ‘boysy’ conversation about the many different euphemisms for the word ‘breast’,” Derbyshire writes in an excerpt, published by The Mirror.
“There is nothing as hilarious to them as an odd-sounding rude word … as a result, neither child expresses any concern or anxiety.”
In the lead-up to her mastectomy, Derbyshire penned a letter to each of her sons telling them how much she loved them.“It’s surreal and distressing putting into words how special they are, thinking they will read this if I don’t wake up after surgery,” she admits.
In the lead-up to her mastectomy, Derbyshire penned a letter to each of her sons telling them how much she loved them.“It’s surreal and distressing putting into words how special they are, thinking they will read this if I don’t wake up after surgery,” she admits.
Thankfully, the procedure was a success, and Derbyshire began chemotherapy a month later. One side-effect that particularly concerned her was the possibility of hair loss.
“I’m considering wearing the cold cap – the thing that looks like a jockey’s hat that freezes your head while you’re having chemo in order to help preserve your hair,” she wrote before she began chemo.
Weeks later, it was evident the cap hadn’t entirely saved her hair; Derbyshire noticed strands of it coming out in the bathroom sink. “I look like Mr Rochester’s wild wife from Jane Eyre – hair sticking out, uncontrollable,” she writes.
“I consider how much hair is falling out after just two chemo cycles, while wearing the cold cap. It’s depressing.”In December 2015, Derbyshire returned to work with mixed feelings. Though she felt fine physically, she felt anxious about wearing a wig in front of her friends and colleagues, and her TV audience.
“I’m considering wearing the cold cap – the thing that looks like a jockey’s hat that freezes your head while you’re having chemo in order to help preserve your hair,” she wrote before she began chemo.
Weeks later, it was evident the cap hadn’t entirely saved her hair; Derbyshire noticed strands of it coming out in the bathroom sink. “I look like Mr Rochester’s wild wife from Jane Eyre – hair sticking out, uncontrollable,” she writes.
“I consider how much hair is falling out after just two chemo cycles, while wearing the cold cap. It’s depressing.”In December 2015, Derbyshire returned to work with mixed feelings. Though she felt fine physically, she felt anxious about wearing a wig in front of her friends and colleagues, and her TV audience.
In all, the journalist underwent six chemotherapy sessions, 30 radiotherapy sessions, and will continue taking the drug tamoxifen.
Doctors have told her there is no evidence of remaining cancer, but that there is an 11 per cent chance of recurrence.
Doctors have told her there is no evidence of remaining cancer, but that there is an 11 per cent chance of recurrence.
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