Beatrice was sure a strange mark on her foot was only a verruca, but was it something more sinister?
Waking up, I felt sick as a dog yet again.
‘I’m sure
it’s twins,’ I called to my husband Paul from the bathroom.
I was only four weeks pregnant, but the morning sickness seemed extreme.
At the eight-week scan,
the sonographer confirmed
my suspicion.
Paul was knocked sideways, but we were happy.
At the start of my second trimester, my bump growing, I bent down to pull on my socks when I noticed something on my right foot, near the heel.
‘Do you think this is a verruca?’ I asked Paul.
‘Maybe,’ he replied. ‘It might be worth getting checked out.’
I decided to go to the chemist’s.
‘How do I safely treat it during pregnancy?’ I asked
the pharmacist.
‘If it’s not hurting you, it’ll probably go away on its
own,’ he replied.
Reassured, I put it to the back of my mind.
In time, I gave birth to our twins, Thomas and Alfred, and settled into family life.
One day, when they were
15 months old, I laced up my trainers and went for a jog.
I’d loved running before, and wanted to get back into it.
But when I got home, I saw the verruca was bleeding.
It must have rubbed against my trainers, I thought.
Then I noticed it was
double the size it used to
be. It had grown to the size
of a five-pence piece.
‘You should really get it checked out,’ Paul said.
‘It’s fine,’ I told him.
When I went for a pedicure,
I felt embarrassed to get my right foot out and gave the
nail technician a sheepish look.
‘Don’t worry, it’s
not a verruca,’ I said, not wanting to be turned away.
‘Yeah that’s
definitely not a verruca,’ she replied.
Her tone made me stop in my tracks.
I knew then I had to go to the GP.
He referred me to a dermatologist, who took a biopsy.
And while I waited for the results, I looked up my symptoms online.
A mark that grows
in size, is uneven in shape
and bleeds…
To my horror, I realised it had all the signs of melanoma, a form of skin cancer.
I was so overcome with anxiety, I went to speak to my GP about my mental health. But he dealt me a shocking blow.
‘I have the results of your biopsy here,’ he began. ‘I’m afraid it is melanoma.’
I burst into tears.
What if I’ve left it too late to be treated? I thought.
When I shakily left the GP’s surgery, I bumped into Paul and the boys.
‘It’s cancer,’ I whispered.
That night, I tossed and turned, worrying my boys would grow up without me.
A week later, I had a clinic appointment for surgery to remove the rest of the tumour.
Then I had more tests.
‘The good news is that it hasn’t spread to your organs,’ the oncologist explained. ‘But it has already spread to your lymph nodes.’
I was quickly put on a course of targeted therapy, with a combination of drugs
to take every day.
There was no guarantee it would work, and I was terrified I wouldn’t survive.
Thankfully, after a long year of treatment, my doctor gave
us the news we’d been
praying for.
‘The drugs have worked
well and you’re in remission,’ he said.
A huge weight was lifted from my shoulders.
Now it’s been 18 months since I finished treatment, and I’m doing well.
I’m one of the lucky ones, but I wish I’d got it checked sooner.
I want to tell anyone who is concerned about something unusual on their body to please see your GP.
It might be nothing
– but it could also
save your life.
By Beatrice Buckley, 40, of Reading, Berkshire