My Cancer Story – Julie 

I was diagnosed with cancer on the 5th of December 2023. At first, I didn’t realise how serious it was — I thought I’d just pulled a muscle in my shoulder after being knocked about during a storm the night before. I couldn’t lie down without pain, so I went to Boggabri Hospital, where I was living at the time. 

My lovely doctor there decided to do an X-ray on my lung, then a scan, and she didn’t like what she saw. I was sent to a lung specialist in Tamworth, and from there to Newcastle for a PET scan. That’s when I learned the truth — little red spots all over my body. Red spots mean cancer. 

When I got back, my doctor held my hands and said, “Julie, I’m sorry, but you have stage four mutated cancer.” She explained it wasn’t like it started in one place and spread — it had just popped up everywhere: in my brain, lung, and pelvis. The good news was, I could live with it as long as the medication worked. And so far, it still is — I’ve now been living with it for 19 months. 

At first, I was put on a medication that made me very ill. I ended up in hospital every fortnight with dehydration, surviving only on pureed apple, custard, soup, and jelly for three months. My new treatment is just one small blue tablet each morning, and thankfully, it’s working well. 

Telling the Family
That first Christmas was hard. I didn’t tell my family right away. On Christmas Day, after lunch, I finally said, “Don’t move, I’ve got something to say. I have cancer — in my brain, lung, and pelvis.” My mum asked if I was joking. I told her, “Sure, Mum, I like to joke about cancer.” My dad just went pale. I told them I didn’t want too many questions yet — I was still trying to come to terms with it myself. 

I cried for a couple of weeks, then told myself, “Christ, I’m not going to get rid of it, so I’d better get on with living.” I still have days where I think, “Why doesn’t it just kill me and be done with it?” but I push through. 

Treatment & Changes
Since my diagnosis, I’ve had one round of radiation on my pelvis, which eased a lot of pain I thought was just a pinched sciatic nerve or arthritis. Recently, scans showed cancer in my ovaries, and my specialist wants them removed via laparoscopic surgery in Newcastle. 

Before all this, I worked in childcare, disability care, and aged care — from newborns to the nearly gone. I’ve looked after over 120 children in my lifetime and loved it. I had to stop working when the illness and treatment drained my energy. By mid-afternoon, I need a nap — not ideal for childcare, unless the kids looked after me instead! 

Support
I’m blessed with support from my parents, brother, and my wonderful support workers. My brother drives me to Tamworth because I’m not allowed to drive. One of my support workers told me about Can Assist, and they’ve been incredible — helping me with the costs for my many trips to treatment. I don’t think I would have lasted this long without them. I couldn’t have asked for more helpful, lovely people to help me. 

Message to Can Assist
To Can Assist — Happy 70th birthday! I can’t believe you’ve been around that long, considering I’ve only known about you for just over a year. You deserve to have a party all over Australia. Thank you for all you do, from the bottom of my heart. 

“Please ask for help. It will change your life.”

It started with something that seemed small — trouble swallowing food, especially bread. Wayne found himself needing to drink water just to get food down. Working at the time, he noticed the symptoms were getting harder to ignore. Thinking it might be reflux, he visited the GP. 

It was suspected to be a hernia. Time for a more accurate diagnostics: a CT scan in Tamworth, then a PET scan, which meant a long trip to Newcastle. The scans revealed something no one wants to hear – cancer of the oesophagus. 

Wayne’s journey since that July 2023 diagnosis has been relentless. He began six weeks of radiation — five days a week, travelling back and forth from his home in Gunnedah to Tamworth. At the same time, he was receiving weekly chemotherapy. 

Radiation alone wasn’t enough. His tumour was so obstructive that even a feeding tube couldn’t be inserted at first. When they finally managed it, Wayne endured months of liquid-only nutrition, relentless nausea, and three hospital stays. “I couldn’t even swallow a tablet,” he says. “Everything had to go through the tube.” 

“We’d never heard of Can Assist. If we had, it didn’t sink in — until we needed them.” Wayne’s wife Carol first reached out during a crisis: a $600 box of feeding formula had to be thrown out because it didn’t fit his tube. A replacement cost hundreds more. “I was just talking on the phone, and they said, ‘We can help with that.’ It was pure relief.” 

Despite the hardships, Wayne fought on. In October, he underwent major surgery at RPA in Sydney — a terrifying experience that ended up being even more traumatic when surgeons discovered the cancer had spread to his liver. The tumour couldn’t be removed. Wayne needed to be resuscitated three times in ICU. His family was told “if he can survive 3 days, he’ll be all right”.  

Eight days later, the feeding tube was out. “That was the first thing I checked when I woke up,” he says. “I reached up and thought — thank God.” The tumour had shrunk enough to allow him to start eating soups, then soft solids. That night, he had steamed fish — “the best hospital meal I’ve ever had.” 

Since then, Wayne’s treatment has continued with determination. He’s now on high-dose chemotherapy every two weeks — a combination of in-clinic infusion in Tamworth, followed by 46 hours of home-administered chemo through a small pump attached to a port in his chest. In March 2025, he returned to RPA for liver ablation. Only one lesion could be treated — the other is too close to his bowel — so doctors are using chemo to target both the liver and remaining activity in the oesophagus. 

“They’re treating the secondaries,” Wayne says, “which they don’t usually do — but because I’m doing well, they’re giving me every chance.” 

He’s gone from 80kg to 62kg and back up to 77.5kg. He eats frequently, walks daily, and jokes that his cat keeps him on a strict 5am breakfast schedule. 

Wayne and Carol have travelled 18,600 kilometres for appointments, scans, and surgery — from Gunnedah to Tamworth, Newcastle, and Sydney. Can Assist has helped with petrol, motel costs — even Wayne’s glasses. “They’ve lifted stress we didn’t know how to carry. And now we can just ring them for a chat. They’ve become friends.”  

Every trip has been worth it. Every setback has been met with strength. And every day that he can eat a full meal, get up early, and go about his day feels like a win. 

Being Wayne’s Carer: “You don’t realise how tough it is to be a carer — until it’s you.” 

Wayne has cancer of the oesophagus and liver. He’s had liver surgery and now travels fortnightly to Tamworth for chemotherapy. “It seems to be keeping it under control. I’m gaining weight, eating better, doing a bit of work around the place. Life feels better than it has for a long time.” 

But behind Wayne’s quiet resilience is a story of enormous strain — and quiet strength. His wife Carol has been there through it all. 

When Wayne was first diagnosed, they were isolated — in a new town, with few friends and no idea what to expect. “We didn’t know what was normal. Didn’t know who to ask. We were so alone.”  

“When someone you love has cancer, you go through it too,” says Carol. “You’re carrying their pain, your own fears, the appointments, the changes, the financial stress — all of it.”  

“As a carer, it’s tough,” she says. “So hard. You’re responsible for everything — the appointments, the driving, the shopping, the feeding tubes, the bills. You’ve got to hold it together for them — and put up with the crankiness. It’s not their fault. It’s the cancer. But it takes its toll.” 

“Asking for help made me feel sick at first,” she says. “But it changed everything. Because when you’re living with cancer, it’s 24/7. You can’t plan anything. You just try to get through.” 

Can Assist helped with travel, fuel, accommodation — and something harder to put into words: relief. “Every time they helped us, it just felt like we could breathe again,” she says. “It took that stress off me as a carer — stress Wayne probably didn’t even know I had.” 

To others unsure about reaching out, she has a message:
“I understand how hard it is to ring Can Assist and ask for help. But please do it. It changes your life.”