I was in the cross country team in primary school but hated the runs, especially on a Saturday morning in a cold, wet park. To be honest, anybody could be in the team. The school were never going to say you couldn't join in.
In secondary school, I was not allowed to join the cross country team!
Every now and then I would join my dad on a 1.5 mile run round the park on a weekend morning but only to keep him company and it usually ended with me fainting at the end. So dad stopped letting me run.
And that's about the only exercise I ever had!
Last February, one of my best friends lost her daughter to cancer. She had battled for 4 years with Myeloma. She was my age. She discovered it when she broke her leg and the x-rays came back showing big shadows on the bones. The news that she had Myeloma came as a crushing blow, particularly when it was discovered that it was incurable.
Pat knocked at my door and cried her eyes out.
The family found it very hard when Nicola made the decision to skip chemo and rediation therapy, opting instead to have a complete change in diet and lifestyle. She did heaps of research, was flown out to Holland and the US, found an amazing doctor and a fantastic homoeopath, and through following a strict organic diet with no sugar and with dreadful raw vegetable smoothie drinks it looked hopeful that she was beating the cancer. Her protein levels returned to normal.
Nicola was so delighted with her results that she decided that she wanted to have a baby with her long-term partner. She knew that one day the cancer would get the better of her but she was on top of it for now and wanted to leave her partner with a part of her.
She conceived very quickly and had a good pregnancy.
Towards the end of the pregnancy she started suffering with back aches and pains in her ribs but knew that she couldn't hope to have no ill effects at all. However, in giving birth, she lost a lot of blood and when tested, it showed very high protein levels signalling that her cancer had indeed returned. Scans showed that her lower rib had been totally crushed and that several of her vertebrae had disintegrated. She had lost several inches in height. There were also shadows on her pelvis and her brain.
Unable to even really hold her daughter Harriet properly and wishing for a long, happy future with her, Nicola decided that she had to bite the bullet and not only follow a course of chemotherapy treatment but to also undergo a host stem cell transplant. She had done lots of research into this and when she had been at her peak before pregnancy had harvested her own stem cells. However, she knew that using her own stem cells, although safer, would only put off the cancer for a short while, whilst using host cells would be riskier but carried more long-term benefits. She was told that she was a good candidate and she proceeded.
Nicola kissed goodbye to Harriet and went to hospital, knowing that she would be unable to see her again until it was all over. As her immune system was going to be non-existent, there was no way she could risk contracting a cold or other childhood virus from her baby.
Following the transplant, Nicola made an amazing recovery. The treatment was working. Nicola was discharged from hospital way earlier than expected and was out and about very soon.
I remember her coming over to our house and showing us all her photos from hospital when she had had water retention and had blown up beyond recognition almost, and lost all her hair. She was very candid and laughed as she talked us through it, remembering her hallucinations and feeling drunk the whole time, her mouth ulcers, the unbearable itchiness of her skin.
It was a massive shock when Pat rang me at 8am and told me "Bev, we've lost her. We've lost Nicola...."
"No you haven't Pat," was all I could say in disbelief, "No you haven't."
Nicola had started fitting in the night whilst in bed next to her newly married husband. She was taken to hospital in an ambulance where they tried to resuscitate for an hour and a half with her family present. She died.
It hit me like a brick. I just could not believe it. And I feel awful saying that because, imagine how the family all feel. But it's true. I will never get over it.
The funeral was amazing. It was beautiful and awful all at once. With hundreds and hundreds turning up, from all ages, the tiny village of Rostherne was turned into a carpark. The stunning church was packed.
We walked past the family on the way in, not knowing at all what to say, only able to share tears and hand holding. The organ began, striking a massive pang in my chest. And the modest, simple but strikingly appropriate wicker coffin was brought in and laid at the front of the church.
I didn't hear most of the service as I struggled to fight back the tears and the massive lump in my throat, knowing that everyone else there was so much more justified than me to grieve. We left the church from the back entrance where we were struck by the magnificent mere lying underneath us. We hadn't known that it even existed but there it was, down the steep bank from the church, with a dewey mist lying peacefully on top.
The wake wasn't full of humour and wasn't an opportunity to catch up with family and friends. It was filled with tears and crying. I felt out of place and quite ridiculous for being there like it was none of my business. I showed my support to my amazing friend Pat and her family and then left, crying the whole way home, silently, with the kids in the back of the car, oblivious.
It didn't take long for me to work out that I needed to do something to make some kind of positivity come out of all of this. Nicola had spent her last few years raising money for Myeloma UK, despite herself. I realised that I needed to do the same. Even then, I feel ridiculous like it's not my place to do that, but I have to do something. I decided to set up a charity committee called 'Just Keep Walking' and started to tell people about it. Several people said they would join me and we decided to look for walking events. Next minute, we had enrolled for a 10km run!!!
My sister, Katie with my daughter Betty, Faye, my mum, me and Jack, Sefton Park
My sister, my friend Faye and I completed our first 10k run in July at an impressive 1hr 7mins and my mum walked it in 1hr 30mins. It was dreadful - I hated it. It was so hard and I walked most of it. But the atmosphere was incredible and we went home buzzing. Pat was at home with Harriet and Nicola's husband when we got back and she asked us to come in. We all exchanged hugs and tears and gave little Harriet our Race For Life Gerberas.
My mum, Faye, Pat & Harriet, me, Katie and Jack, Tatton Park
That night, we signed up for another. We completed the next 10k in 1hr 2mins non-stop this time, Pat and my mum walked it. We signed up that night for a 5k - the only remaining event that year. We were so looking forward to it, knowing it would be a synch compared to the difficult 10k runs we had completed.
I ran it with my sister and my friend, Debbie. Behind us walking were my mum and my awesome 6 year-old nephew, Jack.
The 5k was the hardest thing I have ever done, faced with gale force winds and horizontal rain! I kept it in my head the whole way round that I would be safe and sound in only half an hour, and I had to keep reminding myself of the struggle that Nicola had had, and the struggle that now Tina, my friend's mum was having with her breast cancer. If they could face their battles (and with a big smile on their faces usually) then so could I, most definitely.
My mum, me, my sister, Katie and Jack, Liverpool 5k
At the end, we were soaked and weather-beaten and exhausted. But the next night, we all joked about doing another. Up until then we had participated in Race For Life, women's only events but we were keen to enlist the boys to join us.
Sunday morning, I found myself watching a half-marathon on TV and finding myself interestingly inspired by it.... Monday morning I sent around a Facebook link to a half-marathon and after some deliberation, some banter and some joking, 4 of us signed up for the Liverpool half-marathon next March. Who the heck do I think I am????!!!!
I would love people to support us on the day by turning up and cheering us on. It's the crowds that get you round with their enthusiasm and their knowledge of what you are doing it for.
And if you wanted to also sponsor and give a donation to Myeloma UK, that would be appreciated too, no matter what the amount. One of the most touching donations I received was for £2.50, everything the donor could spare.
Thank you x
http://www.justgiving.com/BeverleyDPeterson
Myeloma is a rare form of cancer. There is little known about it and Myeloma UK is the only charity that wholly funds research into Myeloma. Myeloma sufferers are more and more looking forward to a brighter future but still, the statistics can be improved.
