When doctors told Megan she was cancer-free, she was so relieved. But then a bombshell was dropped...
Sinking back into the sofa, I was relaxing at my dad's when I scratched my arm.
As I turned my head to look at it, something caught my attention.
I had a mole on my upper right arm — it wasn’t new, but it had started becoming itchy recently.
Now, worryingly, I could see it had grown.
Knowing that a mole which changes shape or itches should be checked out by a doctor, I booked an appointment to see my GP.
A few days later, the doctor looked at my mole, and referred me for a dermatology review at Chelsea and Westminster Hospital for further examination.
There, a dermatologist took a biopsy of my mole so they could find out whether or not it was cancerous.
After a week, I was called in
to the hospital to receive my results, and I asked my dad to come with me.
‘Megan,’ a consultant said. ‘You have melanoma. It’s a form of skin cancer.’
The world felt like it had stopped spinning, and instantly
I felt shocked and worried.
I was pale and had lots of freckles, but I’d always been careful in the sun.
Why is this happening to me?
I thought.
I was only 29.
Dad squeezed my hand to show that he was there for me.
As he and I went home, I felt a heavy cloud of worry hanging over my head.
‘We’ll get through this together,’ said Dad.
When I told my family and friends about my bad news, they all rallied behind me.
A few weeks later, I went to
my first appointment at the specialist cancer unit at The Royal Marsden Hospital.
A consultant told me the sample that had been taken previously at the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital had been reviewed again at their cancer unit. He confirmed it was melanoma.
He explained that I would require surgery to remove the cancer, and immunotherapy to try to stop the cancer returning in the future.
‘There’s a chance the treatment will affect your fertility,’ the consultant added.
Though I wasn’t thinking about kids, I did want to be a mum at some point.
So, without hesitation, I said I’d opt to undergo treatment to preserve my fertility.
I only had a week to get my head around everything, then it was the day of my operation.
I underwent a 2cm-wide excision of tissue to remove the cancer and the surrounding area.
After surgery, recovery was
painful and I was left with a long line of stitches covering my arm.
I was also unable to do my job as a theatrical make-up artist.
But there was no time to waste, and within the next few weeks, I started the process to freeze
my eggs.
I underwent an uncomfortable surgical procedure to retrieve my eggs.
Still, I was happy when I was told
they had successfully frozen 11 of them.
However, there was no denying the skin cancer diagnosis had affected me mentally.
I’d never suffered with any form of depression or anxiety before, but once I’d been diagnosed, I felt myself
changing.
'We'll get through this together'
As I started immunotherapy, I also had to manage the physical side effects of treatment, too.
I felt nauseous most days, and rashes appeared over my body.
During the nine cycles I had to undergo, lockdown came into effect, which meant I couldn’t have any visitors when I was in hospital.
Thankfully, my amazing family and friends were always at the end of the phone or ready to go on FaceTime when I needed support.
Covid lockdowns prevented me from working in the theatre, so I moved back up north to live with family, but completed the rest of my treatment at The Royal Marsden Hospital.
Finally, after a year, I finished my last cycle of immunotherapy.
Then came great news.
‘You’re cancer-free,’ a doctor confirmed.
It was worth all the pain and sacrifice.
I was told I would need to have CT and MRI scans every three months to check the cancer hadn’t come back.
And because I’d moved, it made sense to transfer my care to a hospital nearer to where I was living, so I didn’t have to travel back to London for scans.
So, 18 months after I was first diagnosed, I attended my first check-up at a hospital in Leeds, and took my dad along.
I was in the waiting area with him when a doctor called me in.
‘Bring your dad too,’ he said.
My eyes met Dad’s. Immediately, I felt worried.
Had they found something? Had the cancer come back?
We sat down and, at first, the doctor used a lot of medical jargon I didn’t really understand.
‘What are you talking about?’
I interrupted.
Then he put it in simpler
terms.
‘There’s been lots of testing behind the scenes,’ he said. ‘You’ve been misdiagnosed.’
He explained that his team disagreed with The Royal Marsden so had sent my sample off to be tested somewhere else — and they agreed with him.
My biopsy results had been misreported.
The silence that passed between us seemed to last forever as slowly the penny dropped.
‘So… I never had cancer?’ I asked.
‘That’s correct,’ the doctor said.
I wanted to feel relief, but I didn’t.
Instead, I felt confused.
I called all my closest friends and family to tell them my unbelievable news as Dad drove us home from Leeds.
‘That’s great news,’ some of my friends said.
But I didn’t feel that way. It was the strangest day.
Over the coming weeks, I struggled to come to terms with what had happened.
I felt only anger
and frustration, and thoughts were swirling around my head.
'So...I never had cancer?
I’d spent two years believing
I had cancer, and undergoing gruelling treatment, only to be told there had been no cancer
at all.
Had I not moved away, I would still believe I was in remission and live with the worry of the cancer returning.
Even though some of my eggs had been preserved for the future, I’d been told my fertility could be affected for up to five years after the treatment.
Because of all that, a few weeks later, I sought legal advice.
An independent pathologist again confirmed that the samples showed
no cancer.
Last year, I won an out-of-court settlement from the two NHS trusts involved, and they issued separate apologies in the media.
However, no amount of money could ever be enough to compensate for the emotional and physical pain I went through.
Still, to this day, I’ve not had an explanation as to how and why it happened.
For a while, I wasn’t in a great place but, over time, I learnt not to hold on to any anger and have moved on.
Now I understand what a relief it is, just as my family and friends said. But at the time, I couldn’t see it.
Whenever I tell people what happened to me, they struggle to get their head around it.
It was an unfortunate episode but I refuse to let it rule my happiness.
I feel great now and am currently on a world tour with the theatre cast of The Sound of Music.
I’m incredibly grateful to be happy and healthy.
Megan Royle, 34, Beverley, East Yorkshire