ANNA Wakefield, 43, a health and safety officer, lives in Norwich.
“Waking up in the tent, I realized my pajamas were wet – I had wet myself during the night.
I was doing the 84-mile charity walk along Hadrian’s Wall with three friends, but luckily we were all sleeping in our own tents.
I made the excuse that I was so exhausted I didn’t get up to go to the bathroom.
However, when I got home from my five-day challenge in May 2012, I made an appointment with my doctor and was referred to a urologist.
I was diagnosed with urinary incontinence, but it didn’t make any sense to me – I’m 33, single and childless, so I have no reason to have weak pelvic floor.
Over the next nine months, my symptoms got worse and worse.
While working as a health and safety officer for an insurance company, I had to go through three of the thickest pads a day, until I started leaking through my pads and clothes. .
It will happen continuously, but especially if I sneeze or move suddenly.
Thankfully, no one noticed except for my mother Eileen, 71, who once asked me if I sat in something wet at the pub.
Although it doesn’t affect my confidence, I try to hide it, I worry often because I’m sure something is wrong.
But I felt I had to trust the doctors. Until my smear test in January 2013, the nurse revealed that she could see nodules on my cervix.
I’m not too worried because I’ve had abnormal results every year since my first test at 22, but they were never abnormal. This time, however, I was called to my GP a week later and I was horrified to hear from my doctor that I had cancer.
I was taken for an x-ray, the results confirmed that I had a 7cm long tumor on my cervix pressing on my bladder, causing the fistula. Subsequent tests revealed that the cancer had now spread to my lymph nodes.
It felt like the floor disappeared under my feet. The doctor reassured me that it was stage 1 cancer and that I had an 80-85% chance of 5-year survival if it was treated with a 6-week course of chemotherapy, radiation, and targeted internal radiation. is called neurotherapy.
When I got home, I informed my father, Mr. Stuart, 70 years old. He was speechless, and just uttered my nickname ‘Oh, Treasure’ as he hugged me and hugged me.
Then I called my sisters Helen, 45, and Laura, 40, before telling my mother Eileen when she got home from shopping. She went straight into practice mode and said, ‘Okay, let’s sort this out.’
Two months later, I started chemotherapy. It made me feel so nauseous that I couldn’t eat and was only able to sit in a wheelchair.
But the tumor had shrunk, which thankfully prevented the incontinence. After the treatment was over, I went back to work and started my life again.
But when I went for a 6-month check-up in June 2014, the oncologist informed me that the cancer had spread to my lungs, and now it’s stage 4, which means I only have 5% chance of survival.
This time Mother is a whirlwind of grit and determination. “We’ll get through this,” she swore, squeezing me tightly. The first time I had treatment, I don’t remember any laughs.
But when I went through five months of chemotherapy, I laughed at silly things, like how many times I had to go to the doctor.
My hair fell a lot and my face was puffy from steroids, but my mother’s words made me come home and I was determined to stay positive. When I had my scan six months later, the doctor told me the cancer was gone and I was in remission.
It’s been more than two years now since I had a clear five in November 2019. I took a new job as a health and safety consultant at a university and have overhauled my body, working out. with a personal trainer to take. near Friday, from 4lb day 16 to 7lb day 10, so I’m probably in the best shape to take on anything.
When the tumor disappeared, I was no longer wet, but I had date anxiety. The hardest thing to deal with was that my treatment made me infertile.
But I remind myself that it is a matter of life or death. And I console myself that my nieces will most likely never have to go through what I have, thanks to girls who have received the highly effective HPV vaccine. ”
Cervical Cancer Week takes place January 17-23, 2022 with the Jo’s Certified Cancer Trust.
Join the campaign using #Cerwomancancer Preventionweek.
One in 142 women in the UK will be diagnosed with cervical cancer in their lifetime. *
Source: * Cancer Research UK
https://www.thesun.ie/fabulous/8213116/cervical-cancer-wetting-myself/ I started wetting myself at 33 and went through three pads a day