Alison McDougall

Part of our Patient Stories Series

Introducing the latest installment in our 'patient stories' blog series, we bring you Alison McDougall's courageous journey through her battle with cancer. Alison's narrative sheds light on the unexpected twists and turns of her diagnosis and treatment, providing a raw and honest account of her experiences. From the initial shock of discovery to navigating the complexities of treatment, Alison's resilience shines through every step of the way.

Realising the Unexpected

My sister survived teenage cancer 40 years ago. I lost my Dad to cancer 27 years ago. My brother has his own cancer journey which he has been fighting the last 6 years. The last thing I expected was to be told I had cancer. I found a lump in my left breast when bathing. A really noticeable lump that seemed to arrive from nowhere. I did check myself ‘regularly’ but perhaps not regularly enough.

My GP saw me the next day and 20 days later I had an assessment, a mammogram, an ultrasound scan and biopsy and was told immediately that they were pretty sure it was cancer. The biopsy would tell more and I would be invited back in to meet a Surgical Consultant and an appointment would be set up with an Oncologist. I would also be introduced to a Breast Care Nurse who would be there throughout all of my treatment.

That was a day I won’t forget. It’s true what people say. I went a bit numb and my brain froze so I didn’t ask many questions. When I left the hospital, I called my best friend; I just to tell someone. I guess it’s shock, but I didn’t feel doomed. I just thought ‘ah well, here’s another thing to deal with’.

The full results came in seven days later. That was a tough 7 days. I had to keep reminding myself that breast cancer is not the worst cancer you can have. But it’s the unknown that invades your headspace. I took my best friend with me to the next appointment with the Surgical Consultant to hear the details. Grade 3 Invasive Ductal Carcinoma, Triple Negative. Less common. Fast-growing. Not the words you want to hear.

I hadn’t thought of the questions I might ask. But my friend had. She asked dozens of questions including asking the Doctor to explain again what that means, or how does that affect the treatment, or how long does the treatment last. It was so useful to have someone there who was not going to get overly emotional at the news, and could assimilate the information and (importantly for me) remember everything that we were told.

I waited until I told others. I didn’t want them to worry until the full facts were known. Telling them not to worry would have been pointless. I had to tell my brother and sister, and friends. That was really difficult to do without getting emotional. They were shocked and some cried. “It’s okay”, I said, “I’m strong”.

Navigating the Unknown

I am self-employed. I had to advise my work contacts that I may need some time away. I live on my own. I needed to think that through too along with what it means for my personal finances and what happens if I get ill through this treatment.

Another 18 days passed before I met the Oncologist. Again, I took my best friend with me. The Oncologist has a job to do. He didn’t shy away from telling it as it was. Facts about the possible treatment programme need to be understood particularly because it can be very intense. Side effects could also be a problem and there is no way of knowing which, if any, side effects will be a problem for me.

I assumed I would be fine. Strong body and all that! The plan going forward was outlined. Initially, 24 weeks of treatment comprising of 8 cycles. The first 4 cycles would be weekly visits. Week 1, a mix of chemotherapy and immunotherapy, followed by weeks 2 and 3 of chemo only. Copy, paste, repeat. 12 weeks in all. Then all being well, Cycles 5 - 8 would be changed to treatment every 3 weeks. BUT, he said, this depends entirely on what happens during the first few weeks and how the body copes.

We set up a WhatsApp group with friends for drivers to deliver and collect me from my appointments. BHOC is a nightmare for parking. I had more volunteers than I could use. I also started a blog so I could share my progress - and not have to respond to emails; telephone calls, etc. I knew it would also help me process my own thoughts with regard the treatment. Take a look if you are interested. it’s not always been easy.

The Rollercoaster of Cancer

Despite my age, I was relatively fit (albeit carrying a little extra weight); could still run on a treadmill and attended the gym three times per week and played golf a few times per week too (my happy place). I was not on any medication. My heart and blood pressure and cholesterol were good. I decided that I am going to tackle it all head-on, whatever it throws at me. And boy, has it thrown some unwanted stuff at me.

If I am honest, I thought I had gotten away with it over the first 3-4 weeks. I struggled with nausea and some diarrhoea but the tablets helped stabilise those side effects pretty quickly. I lost my hair after 20 days. That was more traumatic than I thought it would be and I am glad I had my hair cut short before it started falling out. I still felt relatively good; went out for walks, managed at home, cooked meals. Lived as before.

After about 3 weeks I started getting minor dizzy spells, then breathlessness and fatigue. It was something to watch. At the end of Cycle 2 (6 weeks) I was getting increased dizzy spells and noticeably more breathless. I made a visit to give bloods, and felt so dizzy the nurses referred me to the emergency daycare unit. Bloods were run quickly and showed a massive spike in my thyroid readings - a known side effect.

I was having palpitations and tremors and sweats. I was put on a mix of steroids for my thyroid and tablets for the palpitations, and had to return the next day to collect my prescriptions. I did return but my dizziness returned and hit me hard and I was whisked back to the emergency day care unit. This was not only uncomfortable but frightening and in the midst of the dizziness and breathlessness, I had a full-blown panic attack.

The medics were wonderful. They provided the reassurance I needed and took further tests. They spoke at length with the on-call Endocrinologist who then arranged for me to go under his care, and have a scan, and other specific tests for the thyroid. Then my cortisol took a nose dive which meant my adrenal gland was also playing up. Further tests needed there too. Same Endocrinologist doctor took over.

I have to report at this stage, I lost my sense of humour and was ready to run away! But I gave myself a good talking to and again re-focussed on the end results. In the meantime, the immunotherapy treatment was put on hold temporarily and I continued with chemo only.

Facing the Unthinkable

Three weeks later my thyroid readings hit a massive low and a scan showed my thyroid gland to be inflamed and leaking. Again, treatment was quick and kindly, but I felt absolutely awful. Fatigue beyond anything I could imagine; sometimes barely able to lift my body out of my bed. Still dizzy, still breathless. In addition, the thyroid was effectively inactive so the steroids I was taking had a massive effect on my weight. I was gaining kilos every day and felt it - and could see it in my face and my belly.

It’s likely my thyroid will never recover. I will be on Levothyroxin for evermore but I am not concerned about that. At the time of writing the thyroid treatment and tablets are definitely working. I thought that would be it and so did the medics. I was back on the immunotherapy and chemo mix - albeit at reduced potency.

But alas no. I am one of the unlucky ones (my doctors words, not mine) whose body clearly does not like this treatment. My thyroid settled buy my cortisol levels continued to spike and my haemoglobin dropped. I was back in hospital for 3 days after Christmas; more tests and then a blood transfusion which gave me an instant burst of energy. And I felt good - for 3 or 4 days. Happy New Year! Now let’s get the party started.

But no! Nausea has been a consistent and constant problem. It sits in the background every day so the medics have been trying numerous anti-sickness potions. You get used to it but it doesn’t make for a happy life. You can still eat but it’s fuel...not something to look forward to. My taste buds have gone awol too! Then my saliva glands dried up. That is a problem. Swallowing food is a necessity and it’s hard to do without saliva. This caused me some significant difficulties. Then the diarrhoea arrived and the dizziness and breathlessness returned.

The thing about this treatment is that you don’t feel great one day and awful the next. It’s step by step. I know from some of the people I have treatment alongside that not everyone struggles. Some get away with very little in terms of side effects. Mine started after week 4 and just never gave up. As the medics resolved one issue, another arrived.

This culminated, 7 days after Cycle 8 of my treatment, with my white blood cells (neutrophils) dropping to such an extent that I was opened up to all sorts of infections and I got them. Neutropenic Sepsis put me in hospital via A&E for 8 days with a colon and bowel infection and a spiked temperature. Along with the Sepsis was iron deficiency anaemia and my potassium and magnesium crashed, possibly because of my severe dehydration.

Finding Light in the Darkness

I don’t write this to scare the reader (although it was scary). I was looked after 24/7. At no time did I feel that I wasn’t the most important person in the room. The treatment was around the clock; expertly delivered with compassion and care and when I left hospital I felt like a new person.

There was a lesson to be learnt for me though. I live alone. I did not realise I was so poorly and although friends arrived every day it was my decision as to whether I thought I was poorly enough that I should go to hospital. That was wrong. I did not have the cognitive ability to make that decision myself. That is why I ended up in A&E. My friends now have access to my emergency card for BHOC and can veto my opinion. Hopefully they won’t ever need to. For now there is no more chemo or immunotherapy My 24 weeks of stage one treatment has finished. Surgery is imminent. My breast lump has reduced in size (but not disappeared) as a result of the treatment so it has worked to an extent. Pathology will tell us more 3 weeks after surgery but I am confident.

After surgery I have further planned treatment which could mean immunotherapy or more chemotherapy but definitely radiation therapy. Given how many side effects I have had to endure, that is going a to be a frank discussion between the Oncologist and me.

I feel that 6 months in, I am over the worst of it. Surgery is a little scary but I will deal with it. I have been surrounded by love, care and compassion through this journey - and to be fair, a great deal of humour which I have loved. Not just from family and friends but all the medics working at BHOC, BRI and Southmead and I am deeply grateful. Despite the diagnosis, the awful side effects and the sometimes scary moments I do feel lucky. Today is another good day. That is all I need to continue this fight.

In the Face of Adversity: Alison's Inspiring Story

Alison's journey offers a raw and honest perspective on the ups and downs of battling cancer. Her willingness to share her experiences reminds us that behind every diagnosis is a person with a unique story. In a world where facing illness can feel isolating, her openness encourages others to speak up, seek support, and find solace in knowing they're not alone. Sharing our stories, however difficult, can spark connections, empathy, and hope in unexpected ways. If you'd like to share your own journey, please feel free to get in touch.

The Friends of BHOC blog shares personal stories from patients to provide support and inspiration. These stories are unique and not representative of all patients’ experiences. The content is for information and not a substitute for professional medical advice. Stories are shared with consent and, whilst we aim to be as accurate as possible, medical information and practice can evolve and change over time. Third-party links are for convenience and not endorsed. By reading, you accept this disclaimer and can contact friendsbhoc@uhbw.nhs.uk with concerns.