Neeley Wadsworth

Part of our Patient Stories Series

In 2022, Neeley Wadsworth faced an unexpected challenge when she discovered a lump in her left breast. Her story is one of strength, resilience, and the support of her loved ones. Follow Neeley's journey from that moment to her remarkable recovery. This candid account sheds light on her experiences, the importance of a strong support network, and the outstanding care provided by the Bristol Haematology and Oncology Centre. It's a story of hope, survival, and the power of community.

Finding a Lump

I first found the lump in my left breast at the end of March 2022. I went straight to the GP, but she had trouble finding it without me showing her where it was. Once she felt it she referred me to the breast care centre and two weeks later I was sat in the waiting room.

Again the nurse had trouble finding the lump, she examined me and saw no obvious symptoms, but the nurse who conducted my ultrasound knew something wasn’t right. She did a biopsy there and then and I asked her if I had anything to worry about - her response was, “I can’t be 100% sure”. She took three samples to biopsy. For 2 weeks I knew deep down it was cancer. I didn’t tell anyone my fears, I had convinced myself it was a cyst that would need draining.

Diagnosis

On 28th April 2022 I went to the breast care centre. My appointment was 4.30pm and I was alone. The words, “I’m sorry Neeley you have breast cancer” were said and I broke down. I was flying to Rhodes a few weeks later and getting married. I have a 7-year-old daughter. How is this happening to me. I was reassured that it was early-stage breast cancer so I had a very good prognosis, but I would have to have chemo and a date for my oncology appointment was booked. Stage 2, grade 3 triple negative breast cancer was my exact diagnosis.

I had to ring my husband-to-be from a bench outside the breast care centre to tell him the news. I also had to watch my parents crumble in front of my eyes telling them I had cancer. This is not something I ever want to experience again.

Further Tests

The next few weeks were a blur. I had to have genetic blood tests, MRI scans, mammograms, you name it. Family and friends all agreed I was not to attend any appointments by myself because it was too much to take in so I always had a second pair of ears and a comfort too. Thankfully I tested negative for the BRACA gene so my daughter would not have to go through any testing.

I was very honest with my daughter. I told her I had a lump in my breast was called cancer and I would have to have some very strong medicine called chemo to kill it. It would make me sick, very tired and my hair would fall out. Her response was that’s ok mummy I can look after you and we can get you a wig! I held back the tears.

I told her about my MRI experience which she thought was hilarious. I told her I was led on an ironing board with 2 holes in, one for each breast. I needed to be positive and funny mummy about it all, because deep down I was crying every evening and every time I had a shower so no one could see how scared I actually was.

Two days before we flew I was sat in an oncologist's office signing consent forms with my mum and husband-to-be for chemotherapy and immunotherapy and reading pages and pages of things that could happen to my body with the treatment. 24 weeks of treatment I had to have before the operation to remove the lump. My consultant was very positive and explained I would be part of the immunotherapy trial. I explained to my daughter after this appointment that I would have something called a PICC line fitted. I said this would be where my medicine would be put and it would later be called my robot arm by my nephew.

The Wedding

We flew to Rhodes knowing everything that was going to happen when I returned and we lived in a bubble for two weeks. That is until my wedding day and my Mum couldn’t do my dress up properly because the lump was now golf ball size and the position of it made it uncomfortable. Only I could tell, but looking back now on the pictures it’s all I see!

Treatment

Once we returned I cut my hair to prepare myself for chemo so it wouldn’t be such a shock to everyone when it did start falling out. Chemo started on the 16th June and due to COVID restrictions, I had to go alone. I was in a way glad because I didn’t want anyone to see me upset or nervous as it was the fear of the unknown at this point. The nurses were amazing and explained everything to me so well that I instantly felt at ease.

My dad was allowed to attend with me - he was visibly uncomfortable but stayed with me, that is until he was told the side effects that could happen during the treatment and I knew he would be too upset to witness that so he quickly went back to work.

My brother came and it was the complete polar opposite to my dad. The nurse shot a syringe of my blood across the room and that lightened the mood a bit! With each week I was gaining more confidence and going alone, although I did have company most weeks.

My sister in law came with me and passed out causing the whole chemo unit to panic and sound the alarms. My mum came and made fun of me and asked the nurses questions that I knew the answers too, but apparently they know more so she wanted their answers. My grandad came to pick me up one day, walked straight in, sat next to me in a chair for a patient and didn’t realise he wasn’t supposed to sit there as it had just been sanitised! Sometimes it was just easier to go alone!

I was becoming more confident talking to the nurses about my treatment and also talking to other patients about their experiences. I would take my iPad with films downloaded, my comfy slippers mums friend had bought me and a hat she had knitted me to keep my head warm in the shape of a strawberry, a blanket and a picnic to keep me occupied for 3 hours.

I had 3 different types of chemo and the immunotherapy. The Red Devil chemo was the worst and this made me very sick whereas the other two, I was just very tired.

Somewhere in between Chemo sessions I had an emergency blood transfusion die to becoming anaemic. You read about all of these things that can happen, but you don’t actually think you will have to experience it.

I had my PICC line removed as a clot was forming around it so I had the remaining three chemo and immunotherapy through a cannular - not something I recommend as it took 45 minutes some days to find a vein, but my mental health had improved greatly by it being removed as I couldn’t even hug my daughter or husband properly, pick up my baby niece or do tik tok dances with my eldest niece - something we have done since lockdown!

Once all Chemo was finished I had the lumpectomy and was given the all-clear in January. No signs of cancer in my lymph nodes and the surgeon took away 6 centimetres of tissue to biopsy, which was also all clear. I had radiotherapy throughout February and March 2023 and completed immunotherapy in May 2023.

I haven’t been signed off of oncology yet as the side effects I am dealing with include neuropathy, inflamed lungs and extreme fatigue. I have to have regular appointments at the BRI still, but compared to the outcome I could have had I really can’t complain.

Today

Going through cancer is the worst, but it helps to have a great set of cheerleaders around you which I definitely had and still have to this day.

There are lots of things that happen to your body once you are getting back to normal that you don’t read about - like the pain in your legs when your leg hair is growing back or ‘chemo brain’, like baby brain, but worse I think!

I documented my entire journey on my social media to raise awareness of this horrible disease and to keep family and friends updated on everything, so that if I saw them in Asda with my bald head looking absolutely hanging I wouldn’t have to explain why every time.

I owe everything to the amazing doctors and nurses at the BRI and can never repay them for giving me my life.

We hope that Neeley's courageous journey serves as a source of inspiration and support for those currently navigating or about to embark on a similar path. Her story reminds us that, in times of adversity, the human spirit can shine brightest. We're immensely grateful to Neeley for sharing her journey with us, and we extend an open invitation to anyone else who wishes to share their story.

Your experiences can offer comfort and hope to others facing similar challenges. Please don't hesitate to get in touch if you'd like to join us in this collective journey of strength, resilience, and triumph.

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.