Adrienne’s Story

“It’s still hard to put this story into written words.

Even though I knew I wasn’t 100% well and there was something going on for me, not in my wildest dreams did I believe I would get a cancer diagnosis.

Looking back my symptoms probably started in 2020 when I had two miscarriages.

After three beautiful, healthy pregnancies and deliveries these were devastating events. The following year I became pregnant with our 4th son, during this pregnancy I had diarrhoea every day, I eventually went to the doctor and was diagnosed with Giardia, then when symptoms persisted I visited the GP a month later, and was told I had picked up e-coli.

A couple of weeks later I gave birth, he was overdue, induced and ended with an emergency c-section – it was horrible! And so far from my other natural home births.

My symptoms – mainly diarrhoea and fatigue persisted throughout the following year but I explained these away, being a mum to now four young children (and two teenagers, no longer living at home).

14 months post-partum I went back to the doctors having self-diagnosed with IBS, testing begun and my doctor referred me for a colonoscopy, believing the referral may not get accepted as I was ‘too young’.

The colonoscopy… what an experience. The prep, the process – horrible!

I don’t remember much of the actual procedure as I was heavily sedated. Afterwards my husband and I were ushered into a little doctor’s office. I’ll never forget the room. The doc sat down, and a nurse also sat in the room and shut the door “do you remember what happened in the room” he asked. “no, not really” I replied.

He lay a piece of paper in front of us with 5 photos. “We found a tumour low in your rectum, we couldn’t get past it, so we aren’t sure what else may be there. It’s cancer.”

It felt like the world stopped.

I could feel blood rushing through my head. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t ask. I looked at my husband, this big, strong, beautiful man with tears rushing down his face.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“You will need surgery, they’ll cut the tumour out, best case scenario you will have a bag, for the rest of your life.”

I don’t know how long we sat in that room crying.

The next month was a blur of scans, appointments, waiting for results, crying, hibernating.

I had huge overwhelming feelings of guilt and fear.

Guilt that I hadn’t sorted my insurances. If I died my family would be in be in real financial stress, I had absolutely failed them in this sense.

Guilt that I hadn’t lived a healthier life to prevent this occurring.

Fear that I would die and not get to raise my younger children, that I wouldn’t be able to see them become adults or meet their children. That I wouldn’t be there to take care of them in those moments where they just need their mum.

Fear of all of the medical procedures I would need to endure, and fear of death.

Since those darkest few months things have got better, we have answers now, we have met amazing medical professionals who have assured us of their confidence in my recovery.

Treatment which started on my 40th birthday, radiation and chemo were unpleasant, but every new day was a day closer to being cancer free. I really just lived in survival mode through those months, day to day just one step in front of the other.

Life is still as busy as ever with a young family and everything that comes with that, alongside treatment. In some ways I have found it easy to accept all of the treatment as I will do anything they ask me to do I can’t afford to take risks as my children need me and I need them – they fuel my recovery everyday.

Towards the end of my chemo treatment, on Christmas eve actually my bowel completely packed in and stopped working. I ended up in emergency surgery on boxing day and left the hospital four days later with a stoma bag.

In the following three months I had 3 more surgeries, the remaining cancer was removed and the bag was eventually reversed. These months have flown by in a blur and it feels like I have spent more time on Ward 10 of Nelson Hospital than at home.

I write this as I am at home recovering from my final surgery.

I have a way to go before I can resume ‘normal’ life but it feels so close to the end, and the fog is starting to lift. We can now begin to talk about the future again, what an absolute blessing!

I can’t speak highly enough of my surgeons, and medical teams, nurses that have taken care of me and our whānau along the way. They have spent so much time reassuring us that we are on course and things will get better. I am truly forever grateful. They have given me my life back, and our kids will have a māmā for a while longer.

My husband has been my rock, he has wiped away my tears on countless occasions and shouldered so much on his own over the past year. I can’t imagine this journey without him, and I feel such compassion for the journey our caregivers have to go on sometimes in isolation.

We have had incredible support from our wider families and communities with whānau chipping in to take care of our kids, to bring us meals and drop us off groceries, sending care packages, financial support, visits to boost our mood, so many messages of support. We feel so loved and supported.

I have had some of my darkest moments over this past year, but also some amazing moments feeling so loved and supported, and immensely grateful for my family, friends and community.

I know it’s always easier to learn from our own experiences than others but if I can offer any advice, it would be to sort your insurances young; just medical and life, so anything that comes up is not a financial strain, and you can avoid the guilt.

Also just be healthier, avoid processed foods and alcohol whenever you can. If you know you’ve done the most you can your Hinengaro (mental wellbeing) won’t take such a hit. First round of chemo 40th birthday, photo got during chemo”