Olwyn’s cancer story  starting 11 June 2025 is etched into her family psyche. Three phone calls and a cosmic shift in circumstances: Call one was a zoom call for my partner Steve where he learnt that his public service job of 20 years would be disestablished, the same change process would also take our daughter’s job. Call two was my manager giving me similar news, my position in DIA would be affected by a forthcoming change process, and I would need to apply for new opportunities.

The third call was the big one (as if three impending redundancies could not easily be trumped) it was from the Gastroenterologist and the news was to confirm the finding of oesophageal cancer from a Gastroscopy I’d had the proceeding week. Sadly the lotto ticket we bought that night didn’t deliver the good news we really needed! The news was not entirely surprising, but the reality of what was ahead started to set in. I’d had a quite sudden weight loss and increasing difficulty keeping food down, I’d been on soups and soft food for some weeks. What had started out as a diagnosis of reflux in March was raising alarm bells with my GP (and me) as eating became painful and I was experiencing increasing bouts off vomiting on attempting to eat.

The Gastroscopy was ordered and when it was established I had surgical cover on my health insurance, I was fast tracked. The preliminary report showed a pretty messed up area in my lower esophagus adjoining my stomach and the serious demeanour of the lovely gastroenterologist betrayed her fears, later confirmed as adenocarcinoma - oesophageal cancer. Further tests were ordered (blood tests and CT scan) ahead of an appointment with an Oncologist within a fortnight. All of this was made super quick due to the privilege of health insurance - something I’d taken out a few years earlier through work and had recently thought about discontinuing due to the cost! The seven weeks saved in waiting times in the public system seems fundamentally unfair and I am grateful to have been afforded this privilege. The initial oncologist meeting was pretty confronting. The CT scan had shown my lungs were covered in lesions as well as a number of lymph nodes. This indicated metastatic disease - stage 4 cancer in lay terms and the initial prognosis was 1 to 2 years. Not easy news to digest and not at all what we wanted to hear. One final test would confirm this, a PET scan, which would rule out any other lung conditions (a slight possibility). While waiting for this it was proposed I started chemotherapy- Folfox- effectively a palliative regime aimed to help alleviate symptoms by attacking the primary tumor. If that was not effective then a shunt was mentioned as a possibility to assist with swallowing.

Some sleepless nights followed. It was a lot to take in and I was planning how to get the most out of the time I had while trying to stay hopeful that the small chance could be me. That said I planned my funeral in the night and shed a few tears for the life I’d miss. Still being in pain, losing weight and not yet managing my symptoms fully did not help. I squeezed in a few days in Lyttleton with our daughter ahead of the first treatment starting and this was a lovely time, a welcome distraction from the things that I knew were coming. The first chemotherapy round also involved getting a PICC line inserted (Peripheral Central Catheter) it would remain in place for the planned six rounds of chemo. Meanwhile we settled into the fortnightly visits to Bowen hospital and the ‘take out’ infusion delivered via the PICC. I met the local community cancer nurse, Liz, a wonderful breezy woman who would be a regular visitor to us, changing dressings, taking bloods and providing counsel and support.

The PET scan was a game changer. In simple terms it glows up cancer and things that are not cancer don’t glow. My lungs did not glow! That small possibility of the spots on the lungs being ‘something else’ became reality. I have another, coincidental, rare, condition called sarcoid. It creates calcified granulomas on the affected organ, in this case the lungs and a selection of lymph nodes. It is rare, treatable and is the best news we could imagine! While there was still a chance of metastatic disease it most likely not being in my lungs meant that surgery for oesophageal cancer and a curative pathway were on the table. I had more tests ahead to confirm…a colonoscopy to check out a possible cancer in my large intestine (all clear) and a laparoscopy to look at my oesophagus and lymph nodes from within the abdominal cavity. By this time I had been kept so busy with these procedures I was feeling completely overwhelmed and had not really had time to let myself hope or even take a beat to process all the possibilities! I met my surgeon, Ahmed, who inspired total confidence and was endlessly patient with all of my questions. He gave me a good idea of what surgery meant, that it would be major, life changing, and not guaranteed to cure but clearly my best shot at survival. On one level it was the best news but as a devoted foodie and cook it seemed like a lot of change was ahead!

My chemotherapy stepped up to FLOT for the remaining four rounds, a much harsher regime that has brought hair loss and a host of nasty side affects including loss of taste and streaming eyes and well as peripheral neuropathy in my fingers and toes (I’m still dealing with this one). I gladly accepted all of this as it was all leaning towards surgery in early October. I met the wig lady and got fitted out with replacement hair, one for work and one to party! I was still working through this period (mostly from home as I had a very understanding boss and the flexibility to do most of my job remotely). I knew I’d need my save sick leave post surgery and I’m endlessly appreciative of my colleagues who kept their colds and sniffles at home on my in office days! Meanwhile I was working through the change process at work as was Steve at his - layers of stress we didn’t need but somehow also a secondary focus away from the oesophageal cancer.

To prepare for surgery I tried to get fit and stay as active as possible within the constraints of the fortnightly chemo. I saw a local cancer physio, Jo, who recommended a six week Pilates course funded by Pinc and Steel (https://www.pincandsteel.com/) This was fantastic, it was pitched just right for my needs and built confidence that I could get through the surgery and get strong again. There is more Pilates in my future for sure!

Our adult children, Caitlin and Liam, arrived home as support crew in the month preceding surgery. This was the first time we’d lived together as a family in a number of years and it was wonderful! Having the right support at the right time is immeasurably helpful. Both were willing and able to put their own lives on hold for a period to help us out and it was just the best thing. We got a family tattoo to celebrate!

October 9 Surgery day. A 5.30 am start to Wakefield hospital, 9 hours in theatre, two senior surgeons, Ahmed and James (flown up from Dunedin) and a wonderful anesthetist, Dan, all focused on my Ivor Lewis, 2 stage oesophagectomy. This is a laparoscopic procedure and still not widely performed in this way but it’s a real game changer. The main impact is a reduction in trauma and faster recovery which I can attest to. I spent two nights in the ICU, and a further week in hospital in all. I was up walking after the first day on ward and by all accounts made it through pretty well. My breathing was the main issue, recovering from the collapse of a lung as part of the surgery was not helped by my sarcoid. To be honest this is my main ongoing issue.

The nursing staff were phenomenal and I can’t thank this team enough for their excellent care and attention to my (many) needs. The pathology shows my cancer is grade 3, with some indications of 2 or more lymph nodes indicated.

I am currently officially in remission, with all the visible cancer having been removed. I'm on four more rounds of FLOT as an insurance policy - there is a 10 to 20 percent chance of it returning in the short term and the additional chemo is to improve these odds. I’ve only now been able to take a breath and reflect on the last 5 months. It’s been so full on with endless appointments, procedures and a real roller coaster of diagnostic shifts. I think I’ve tried to stay positive and that makes a difference, certainly the support of my communities has been essential. I have included a wide range of friends, old and new, in a WhatsApp update group and the messages of support, visits, gifts of books, beanies, flowers and food have been amazing.

I have loved that I’ve reconnected with some old friends and really appreciated the Raumati South local support, especially for Steve and my two beautiful children Caitlin and Liam.

Roll on 2026 and hopefully a return to the new normal, but cancer free.