Clare Calderwood
August 2024 - You have invasive breast cancer!
How could that be possible? Just weeks earlier, I’d had a full medical and was told I was fitter, healthier, stronger than I was two years ago and that my biological age was younger than my actual age. I was so proud of that!
But the mammogram and ultrasound told a different story.
Life was turned into a rollercoaster of appointments, disappointments, good news (no chemotherapy needed, it hasn’t spread to the lymph nodes or right breast) and bad news (you’ve got cancer!). Scans, tests, plans for surgery and reconstruction, changes to plans, different options, another change of plans. A first surgery, the cancerous area is larger than expected, another surgery, hormone therapy, radiotherapy, fatigue, drug side effects, scar issues and a new targeted therapy drug. That’s just in the first 8 months. Another surgery lies ahead in 2026.
For the first 6 months after-diagnosis I existed in a treatment bubble. I didn’t have time to process what was happening or what it meant for my life moving forward. It was pure survival mode—fight or flight.
And what no one tells you—and maybe it’s best they don’t—is how difficult the post-active treatment phase can be. For me, the drug side effects have been brutal. It’s like menopause turned up to 100%, bone and joint aches, insomnia, and soul-sapping fatigue.
Whilst I may look normal on the outside, inside I am far from normal both physically and mentally.
I thought returning to work would help reclaim some semblance of normality. I missed my job and the sense of purpose it gave me. I missed being part of a team. But I’m not the same person I was before cancer. And I haven’t yet achieved the normality I so desperately seek.
Throughout treatment I kept saying “I don’t want the cancer to beat me”. I had big plans and dreams I wanted to achieve. But for now, I need to have smaller plans and to face forwards into each day. To be grateful to my husband and four children, who have stood by me, lifted me when I’ve fallen, dried my tears, and held space for both my strength and my vulnerability. Breast cancer hasn’t beaten me, but I’m not ready to say I’ve won either.
Working with Paul, Ruth and Mary on this exhibition has given me a new focus during my treatment and it has made me appreciate that something amazing can come out of so much pain and sadness.