While running my own company since 1987, I have continued to study and succeeded in gaining an M.A. and PhD in Philosophy; Philosophy being an interest since my undergraduate years. This intensive study period ended in late 2017.
Through the years, I had kept myself reasonably fit, playing squash and going to the gym. I had the good fortune of rarely getting sick, so visits to the doctor were infrequent.
In October 2021, I began to feel what I thought was an irritation or sensitivity in my nipples. At that time, not being aware that breast cancer was something men could get, I put it down to an infection of some kind. After a week or so, I mentioned it to my wife, Olive, who said I should get it checked. Believing, as I did, in my ability to get over most medical issues, combined with my powers of self-healing, I left going to see the doctor for another week or so. One night, I woke up and there was blood flowing from my left nipple. I knew then that something serious was happening.
My G.P. examined me, was unsure, but said to err on the side of caution, it would be better to have it checked at the local hospital in Limerick City. An appointment was made with the breast cancer center in the hospital. The people at the center were surprised to see a man, and as it was during Covid, I had to attend on my own. They examined me and asked various questions about my lifestyle, how much alcohol I drank, etc. Most of my answers were negative to an indulgent lifestyle.
A mammogram and other tests were ordered, and while what those tests were is a bit vague now, they were sufficient for them to be able to diagnose that I had Breast Cancer on my left side. A few of the doctors and nurses came to talk to me and told me the news. I remember being kind of numb with disbelief, or maybe it was fear. I sat there for a while, not knowing what to say or do. I phoned my wife, who had been waiting near the hospital, and I went to meet her. I told her that I had cancer, and like me, she was shocked. We talked a little on the way home.
In the weeks that followed, there were upper body scans to see how my organs were and full bone scans to make sure it had not spread to the bones. Some of these scans could be done locally, but some I had to travel for. A plan was drawn up with the specialist surgeon that I would have surgery, chemo, and radiation treatment, and a date was set for the surgery.
One day I got a call to say a spot had become available earlier for surgery due to a person having contracted Covid. I took that earlier option and was dropped off at the hospital by my wife, who, again, due to restrictions, could not come in. I had no experience with surgery, so all this hospital protocol was new. I made my way to pre-op, saw some junior doctors and nurses who took details and spoke about the operation.
I was gowned and prepared for surgery by 10 am, but did not make it into the theatre until around 4 pm. The waiting was difficult, though I tried to keep my anxieties at bay. I remember being wheeled down a corridor and past other operating theatres where surgeons, rather young surgeons, were gathered outside and chatting and laughing. I also remember thinking how normal that was, and it helped reduce serious, rather solemn thoughts that I was having.
I woke up later that evening in recovery and was moved to a private room for the night. Next morning, I had breakfast, got up and dressed while coping with a drip that was attached under my arm and draining into a small plastic balloon. The doctor came to see me and revealed the operation. She said she had to take some of my lymph nodes that had also been infected. She said I could be discharged as everything had gone well. As I walked up and down the corridors, I felt strangely strong in my body. On reflection, it was probably the strength of the drugs they gave me. I arrived home to a new reality to a new and different experience of my place in it.
In the weeks that followed, there were visits to the clinic for checks and to have my drain removed. Christmas came and went, and a few weeks later, I was called to see the oncologist. The treatment was explained, and the possible side effects were outlined: losing my hair, feeling sick, etc.
A few weeks later, I began chemo sitting around a circular table with a few other people. In the beginning, the days were short, going in in the morning and out by lunch, but the second part of the treatment was nearly all day from morning to late afternoon. Before going for the actual treatment, I had to go to the hospital the day before to have my bloods done and to make sure my body could take the treatment. As the Chemo progressed, it was a bit more impactful, but apart from losing my hair, I did not have huge side effects. I should mention that a nurse came to see us and showed us how to administer an anti-nausea drug through injection into the stomach. My wife took on the task of doing that each time after chemo.
While going through chemo, I painted a lot, at least one painting a day. I became a member of the Irish School of Landscape Painting and dedicated a great part of the day to painting through online instruction. When chemo ended, I walked next door, thank God the radiation center was so close, as in prior years it was only available in Dublin, a journey of 200miles. I told them my chemo had finished.
A meeting with the radiologist followed, and the treatment was outlined. Radiation therapy, which began some weeks later, was pretty uneventful, but I remember feeling tired after. When the radiation was finished, I met with the Oncologist again, who prescribed Tamoxifen for me to take and outlined that some of the effects would be similar to menopause. Night sweats, feeling emotional, leg cramps, headaches, weight gain, and many more, all of the aforementioned I have had and continue to have. I have a new understanding and appreciation for what women go through as a natural rather than an induced experience.
Since then, until now, I have had regular visits to the Breast Clinic for mammograms every six months in the beginning, extending to once a year. My next scan will be in October, and after a review in February 2026, which will be five years since my journey began.
In the middle of the journey, I decided to collect poems I had written throughout the years and publish them as a book. When you get a cancer diagnosis, it kind of focuses you on doing the things you have always thought about doing. Thus, I launched my book, News from Inside, in 2023, and used some of my paintings to separate the various sections of the book.
The book spans many experiences in my life, from teenage experiences to reflections on artists who have inspired me, both poets and painters, to a section on the Irish Famine, which, given events in the world, seems relevant again. Also included are poems for the marriages of my children and the birth of grandchildren. The book ends by describing some of the endings that have been in my life.
The book sold well, and I decided to sell 50 copies for breast cancer research and raised $700. This was a small way for me to repay the kindness with which I was treated throughout my journey. I still have some books left, and if anyone is interested in purchasing, they are available from me greg.carey44@gmail.com for $15 plus shipping.
That is how things unfolded for me over the last four years. I continue to paint and write and hope to have a new book out in October this year. I still go to the gym and take long walks, and am also semi-involved in the company, which my two sons and one of my daughters now run.