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Calmness Through Cancer with Sue, Bawtry (2026)

06/10/2026

I still see lots of posts on Facebook from people going through cancer treatment.
The weird thing is, that although I’ve finished my own “hard core” treatments now, I’m still interested in how other people are doing.

Yes, I want to “move on,” but when you’ve had a cancer diagnosis, you’re never 100% sure it won’t come back and as I’ll be on cancer drugs for another few years, it’s as if you just want to keep a toe in that murky water, because it’s been your life for months on end.

One lady I follow, called Claire, posted this yesterday and it resonated with me so much, I wanted to share it on this page.

I know that a lot of my followers here are still going through the thick of it, whilst others, like me are coming out the other end.
So wherever you are in your own cancer journey, I hope her words put into perspective, that there is no right or wrong way to feel, wherever you are in your cancer pathway…

There is no single cancer experience.

Every person’s journey can look completely different, from the type and stage of their diagnosis, to the treatments they receive, surgeries they may have, side effects they experience, and the amount of time it takes to recover.

Some people may have chemotherapy, radiotherapy, surgery, hormone therapy, targeted treatments, or a combination of different approaches. Some may have a relatively straightforward treatment journey, while others face months or even years of appointments, procedures, uncertainty and change.

And it’s not just the physical experience that is different. The emotional journey can be completely different too. Fear, anger, sadness, hope, exhaustion, relief and everything in between can all be part of it.

So if your journey looks different from someone else’s, that doesn’t make your experience any less valid. There is no “right” way to feel, cope or recover.

04/10/2026

🎀 October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month 🎀

And if you’ve just been diagnosed with cancer, I want you to understand something…

EVERY SINGLE PERSON hearing the words “you have cancer” for the first time, feels frightened, angry, numb, a weird calmness, overwhelmed, confused, tearful, out of control - or all of those things at once.

The fear of the unknown actually feels worse than the reality. One minute your mind goes blank, then you have a hundred questions, then you wonder what caused it, will you need surgery, chemo, radiotherapy, has it spread… and before you know it, you’re looking too far ahead and imagine everything that might happen.

But let me tell you from my own experience, you don’t have to have all the answers at the beginning.
Initially, they are unable to give you all the answers because there are so many different types, grades, stages of cancer, that means weeks of tests and scans.

With each result & appointment comes a little more knowledge. With each conversation, things start to make a little more sense. And, eventually, as your treatment plan is explained, you begin to feel that tiny bit more in control.

And remember, there are thousands of people who have been exactly where you are now. People who understand the fear, the waiting, the uncertainty and the emotional rollercoaster and who can offer support, reassurance and advice if and when you need it.

So, if you’ve just heard the words “you have breast cancer”, please don’t feel that you need all the answers and have to deal with everything at once.

Take it one appointment, one conversation and one day at a time. 🩷

Don’t look too far ahead if it feels overwhelming. Just concentrate on the next appointment, the next few weeks and the small, manageable blocks in front of you.

You don’t need to know how you’re going to get through the whole journey today.

You only need to deal with today. 🩷

And if you’re reading this because you’ve just been diagnosed, please know that you are not alone.

27/09/2026

When I set this page up in June, I was in the throes of scans, chemo & hospital visits.
I wanted to share my journey to help others going through the same thing.

Now I’ve completed chemo and radiotherapy and am on “maintenance” medication.
I have more telephone appointments, rather than face to face and my two or three appointments a week have turned into two or three a month.

So anyone who’s just been diagnosed with cancer, may find it more helpful to look back at my earlier posts (four months ago), to see how I navigated my diagnosis and treatment.

So now, I’m at the stage of sharing whether I felt prepared for life after cancer treatment…

This morning, I came across a post from another cancer survivor (Jessica, who had neck cancer) and I couldn’t have written this better myself.
So I’d like to share what she wrote…

Question from Mike:
Did they Prep You for after treatment life

Answer:
Not really.

I was given information about side effects, follow-up appointments, scans, things to watch for and some of what my body might go through after treatment. But I don't think anything could have prepared me for what life after treatment would actually feel like.

Nobody really explained how strange it would be to go from having appointments almost every day to suddenly being sent home to recover.

Nobody prepared me for how long recovery could take. For the fatigue that can linger long after treatment ends. For the physical changes that may improve slowly, or sometimes never completely go away.

And I definitely wasn't prepared for the mental side of it.

The anxiety before scans. Checking my neck. Wondering whether every new pain or symptom means something. The memories that can come rushing back from something as small as a hospital bracelet, a waiting room or even a smell.

What I also wasn't prepared for was how complicated "being done" would feel.

I thought the end of treatment would feel more like getting something back. Instead, I was still figuring out what my body could do now, what had changed, what might improve and what I might have to learn to live with.

There was relief, of course. But there was also this strange realization that I had crossed the finish line everyone had been pointing me toward, and I still didn't feel finished.

Cancer treatment had ended.

The effects of it hadn't.

I think the medical system does a much better job preparing us to survive treatment than it does preparing us for survivorship.

And maybe some of this simply cannot be taught beforehand. I don't know if I would have fully understood it until I lived it.

But I do think patients deserve to hear more than, "Treatment is over. We'll see you at your next scan."

Life after cancer treatment is its own part of the cancer experience.

And I wish we talked about that part much sooner.

19/09/2026

I saw a fellow cancer sufferer post this and I just wanted to share, because I’ve been told over and over that I looked so well, even when I was really going through it…

THE STRANGEST PART OF CANCER? SOMETIMES, NOTHING LOOKS WRONG. ❤️

You can laugh with your family.
Make dinner.
Answer a message.
Go shopping.
Take a picture.
Have a completely ordinary moment.

And nobody would know that, underneath it all, you’re carrying something enormous.

Cancer doesn’t always look like tears.
It doesn’t always look like a hospital bed.
It doesn’t always look like treatment.

Sometimes it looks like you trying desperately to have a normal day.

A day without thinking about the next scan.
The next appointment.
The next treatment.
The next result.

Those ordinary moments can become precious.

Because when your life is interrupted by cancer, normal becomes something you miss.

So if you see someone living their life and think, “They look fine…”

Remember:

You may only be seeing the part they’re able to show you.

Be gentle.

You never know what someone is carrying quietly. ❤️

18/09/2026

Today is World Menopause and Cancer Awareness Day.

It’s quite ironic that these two “conditions” share the same day.

For women who have an oestrogen and/or progesterone positive breast cancer, it’s literally a double whammy. And my thoughts are especially with younger women (pre-menopause) who are not only struggling with cancer treatment, but are also thrown into a medically induced menopause.

It doesn’t take years, gradually… there’s no peri-menopause… it’s just straight into the thick of it in a matter of days.

Now I’m also on these hormone blockers, having an oestrogen count of 8 out of 8 – the highest score there is. But I’m post-menopausal and, although I’m now getting hot flushes and brain fog again, I’m 69 and don’t have a young family.

So to all the younger cancer patients with children, I just wanted to say that you are amazing.

And if you’re on hormone blockers as well, please know that you’re dealing with another layer of change on top of everything else that cancer has already thrown at you.

You might not recognise yourself for a while. You might be exhausted, emotional, forgetful, hot, cold, uncomfortable and wondering what on earth has happened to your body.

And that’s not you “not coping”.

Your body is going through an enormous amount of change.

Please talk about it. Ask for help. Don’t just assume that because it’s a side effect of treatment, you have to put up with it in silence. There is support available, and more awareness is desperately needed.

Cancer treatment doesn’t stop affecting you when the last chemo drip comes down or the last radiotherapy session is over.

Sometimes there are things going on inside your body that nobody else can see.

And menopause after cancer is one of them. ❤️

So today, I’m thinking of every woman navigating both at the same time.

And especially those doing it while bringing up children, working, running a home and trying to somehow carry on as normal.

You deserve support too. ❤️

14/09/2026

I was pretty lucky, in as much as my breast cancer was a “common” type and the treatment plan was straightforward.

But for some people, it’s not straightforward.
I wanted to share this post for anyone who is not on the “normal” cancer pathway, where there are still a lot of unknowns.
However the overriding advice is just the same …

“Before cancer, I thought getting diagnosed meant getting answers.

I thought you found out what kind of cancer you had, the doctors figured out how to treat it, you followed the plan and eventually you reached the other side.

I had no idea how much UNKNOWN lived between those steps.

No one prepares you for that part.

No one prepares you for walking into surgery with one understanding of your cancer and potentially waking up to another.

No one prepares you for waiting on pathology that could change your entire treatment plan.

No one prepares you for hearing, “We need to see how you respond.”

Or realizing that sometimes a treatment doesn’t do exactly what everyone hoped it would.

Plans change.

More tests happen.

More questions appear.

And sometimes the doctors can only tell you what comes next because they’re waiting for answers too.

Meanwhile, your brain is still stuck on the very first question you had when you heard the word cancer…

Am I going to survive this?

I remember trying to understand staging, treatment, surgery, chemo, radiation, scans and everything that could possibly happen when emotionally I hadn’t even processed the fact that I had cancer yet.

How do you comprehend something that big?

How do you continue making lunches, answering texts, taking care of your family and living an ordinary Tuesday when suddenly your own mortality has entered the conversation?

You don’t learn how to carry all of it at once.

You learn how to carry today.

Then tomorrow.

Then the next appointment.

Then the next result.

Looking back, I understand why this journey came to me one piece at a time.

The whole thing would have been too heavy to carry at once.

And maybe that’s one of the biggest lessons cancer has taught me.

You don’t always need to see the entire road to keep moving forward.

Sometimes you just need to see the next step. 🎀💗”

11/09/2026

Yesterday she felt really good.

Today she feels exhausted.

And that’s cancer recovery for you. One day you can feel like you’re finally getting stronger, and the next you wake up feeling like you’ve hit a wall.

I’ve always said “take one day at a time” - especially when you’re at the beginning of your cancer journey - but since finishing my cancer treatments (surgery, chemo & radiotherapy), I’ve learnt that I actually find it easier to measure my progress by the week rather than the day.

I can only talk about my own experience, but looking back at how much stronger I feel today compared with this time last week helps me see the progress I might otherwise miss.

Because I still have days when I need a nap. Days when I feel anxious. Days when I don’t feel like I’m making much progress at all.

But for me, it is a week today since I had a nosebleed (yayyy 🙏🏻)

Last Friday I had no eyelashes and no eyebrows, but this week I have lots of new hair stubble coming through 🙌

Yesterday I finished the ironing pile that’s been sat in the dining room for weeks. 😂

I’m off for my 3-weekly Herceptin injection this afternoon and I’ve decided I’m going to do a live makeup video in my Feel Good Factor group before I go.

I used to do live videos several times a week before BC hijacked my life and dented my confidence.

So I’m feeling a bit stronger, a bit more confident, week by week.

And I think that’s the important bit.

Don’t be too hard on yourself if today is a “hit the wall” kind of day.

It doesn’t mean you’ve gone backwards.

Sometimes recovery is two steps forward, one step sideways… and occasionally one step towards the biscuit cupboard. 😂

My advice?
If you’ve recently been diagnosed or still going through treatment, take each day at a time…

If you’re in recovery - Just look back a week. 🫶🏼

06/09/2026

A strong person is not someone who doesn’t worry, feel fear or cry.

A strong person is the one who worries, feels fear, cries… and still finds a way to carry on. ❤️

Because strength isn’t about having it all together.

It isn’t about being positive every day.

And it certainly isn’t about pretending you’re okay when you’re not.

Cancer has taught me that you can be incredibly strong and still have moments when you feel completely overwhelmed.

You can be grateful for your life and still be frightened.

You can be positive and still have a really bad day.

You can laugh with your family in the morning and panic when you’re on your own in the afternoon.

None of those things make you weak.

They make you human.

Perhaps real strength is not fighting against every difficult emotion, but allowing it to be there without letting it take over your entire world.

Feel the fear.

Have the wobble.

Cry if you need to.

Then breathe.

Come back to the present moment.

And remind yourself:

“I don’t have to know how I’m going to cope with everything. I only need to cope with what is in front of me right now.”

One appointment.

One treatment.

One day.

One breath at a time. 🌿

And sometimes, that is the bravest thing we can do.

Strength doesn’t always look strong.
Sometimes it looks like simply not giving up. ❤️

04/09/2026

I follow a few other cancer patients’ journeys and I know that hearing what other people say, helps me know that I’m not alone in my own.

I just read this and wanted to share, because I couldn’t have written it better myself….

I think one of the hardest things about cancer is realizing that everyone else eventually gets to go back to their normal life… while you’re still trying to figure out what yours looks like now.

During treatment, there’s always something you’re working toward.

Just get through this surgery.
Just get through this chemo.
Just make it through radiation.
Just make it to the next appointment.

You tell yourself, “Once I get through this, things will start getting back to normal.”

But then you get there.

And you realise recovery has its own timeline.

Your body has been through SO much. There can still be pain, weakness, exhaustion, medications, side effects, scans and appointments. Then there’s the mental part nobody can see…the fear, the anxiety and trying to process everything you’ve survived.

Meanwhile, the world keeps moving.

I am SO thankful to be getting further away from treatment. I know what a blessing that is.

But I also want people to understand that someone finishing cancer treatment doesn’t mean they suddenly stop needing support.

Please keep checking on them.

Even months later.

Even when their hair starts growing back.

Even when they look healthy in pictures.

Even when they’re laughing and posting and trying to live their life again.

Because sometimes “getting better” and “completely back to normal” are two very different things. 💗

02/09/2026

Well I went for my heart scan today. (This is because I’m on immunotherapy injections for HER2 positive breast cancer).

The drug is called Herceptin and given with chemotherapy, decreases the chances of the BC returning. However, it can have an adverse effect on the heart, so your heart is monitored every few months.

The thing I didn’t realise when being diagnosed with cancer, was the number of side effects caused by all the different treatments.
I simply thought chemo made you sick and your hair might fall out.

Turns out, I was never sick, but my hair did fall out, along with my lashes and brows..

But, how little I knew!

There’s the fatigue, the aches and pains, the strange sensations, the sleep disturbances, the hot flushes, the blood tests, the scans, the medications to deal with the side effects of the medications… and then the side effects of THOSE medications! 🤦‍♀️

And just when you think you’ve finished one treatment, along comes another one.

But today I found myself thinking about things differently.

A few weeks ago I was having chemotherapy every week, then radiotherapy every day, and now I’m having my heart checked so I can continue with the treatment that is helping to reduce the chances of this bloody disease coming back.

That’s actually a pretty positive place to be.

My body has been through an awful lot this year — and it’s still here, still fighting, still healing and getting stronger.

So I’m choosing to see today’s heart scan not as another reminder of cancer, but as another step towards getting through it safely.

And if my heart passes its MOT, I’ll be absolutely delighted. 😂❤️

One day at a time…
One scan at a time…
One result at a time…
One injection at a time…

I am so so grateful for the NHS and its incredible Cancer Services.
Being grateful for the scans and treatments actually makes it less difficult to deal with, because let’s face it, what’s the alternative?!

Calmness Through Cancer with Sue

06/10/2026

04/10/2026

27/09/2026

19/09/2026

18/09/2026

14/09/2026

11/09/2026

06/09/2026

04/09/2026

02/09/2026

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