As episode two opened, my heart ached as I saw Lucille. I could tell by her eyes, disassociated from her surroundings, and her dejected posture that she was slipping further under the grip of depression. Cyril saw it too, and I know he was desperate to help her in any way he could. One very hard thing about loving someone with depression is that you can’t fix it. You can’t love them “more” to get them out of their depressed state. It’s scary, and can often bring out feelings of guilt that you can’t make them “better”. Cyril was doing everything in his power to try to help–booking a phone call home to Jamaica, encouraging Lucille to talk to the doctor, but nothing was going to be a magic fix.

While I continued to worry about Lucille, willing her in my mind to seek help, we met Lillian Reynolds. She was a first-time mother-to-be attending a prenatal breastfeeding class with the midwives. After the class, when Lillian complained about some breast redness and pain to Sister Julienne, I wondered if it could have possibly been mastitis. Although mastitis usually occurs after birth and after the milk has come in, I have seen two cases of non-lactational mastitis during my practice. However, when Lillian showed Sister Julienne and Dr. Turner her breast at clinic the next day, I knew right away that what she was dealing with wasn’t a simple infection.

Lillian was diagnosed with inflammatory breast cancer. I felt a pit in my stomach, tears stinging in my eyes as she received her diagnosis. While I watched her attend the follow up appointments. I felt her and her husband Ronnie’s frustration at the lack of clear communication from their doctor. That deep feeling that this was so incredibly unfair, that Lillian’s baby may grow up without her mother, was heavy and stifling.

This hit close to home for me because in December, just 2 days before Christmas, I was diagnosed with malignant melanoma. I was sitting in the car, picking up my youngest, my baby, from daycare. The phone rang, and while I don’t often answer calls from unknown numbers, I did answer that day. It was the dermatologist who I had seen two weeks before, telling me that the seemingly normal, pink, round mole I had removed due to it being in a bit of an irritating spot, was cancer. At first, I was numb. I asked, “Well, what do I do next?” She told me about tumor boards reviewing the pathology report, and appointments needed with surgical oncology. It was right before the holiday, so it would take several days to get the plans into motion. I hung up the phone, still stunned, with my 1.5 year old in the back seat. Well, a lot of people have skin cancer. It’s really common. But wait, this isn’t just a basal cell or something, people die from melanoma. People can die from this.

I immediately pulled over and logged into my patient portal. I scoured the pathology report. Stage t3a. I Googled that quickly, but left that internet search with more questions. I realized I had to get home, have dinner with my family, and get up for work the next morning. I had Christmas wrapping to do. I pushed everything aside and got through dinner with a smile on my face. I didn’t tell my husband that night. I already knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, so I might as well give him one more restful night of sleep before dropping this news on him.

All night long, I tossed and turned. I would start to let myself think things like how will he cope as a single parent? Three kids are SO difficult to handle on your own. Will the baby remember me? My kids are all so obsessed with me, they will never be okay if I die. Terrible thoughts swirled in my head at that time. As I watched this episode of Call the Midwife, I could put myself right into Lillian’s shoes. My chest was tight, my breathing was ragged. This wasn’t fair.

Lillian’s diagnosis changed her life from that moment forward. She was given the recommendation to go to the hospital to be induced, when she had planned on a home birth. Her life would be filled with appointments, procedures, and treatment during the time when she should be resting, recovering from birth, and bonding with her infant. Cancer always seems cruel and unfair, but to happen to a new mother like Lillian seems unimaginable.

Luckily, Lillian went into labor shortly thereafter, and SIster Julienne and Trixie stayed by her side, comforting her and helping her welcome her baby girl in the comfort of their home. My emotions were already high, feeling as though I could relate to Lillian intimately, so when she said she was naming her new baby girl Andrea, I lost it. The coincidences were just too much.

As the episode wrapped, there was a bright feeling of hope. We weren’t over the worst of it, but there was a light shining at the end of the tunnel. Lucille had reached out to Dr. Turner for help. She was starting on medication and was supported by her colleagues in taking a leave of absence, so she could get treatment for her mental health and visit her family in Jamaica. Lillian was going through radiation treatment for her breast cancer, as well as settling into life as a new mother. Thankfully for me, I have a happy ending, too. I had surgery in January to remove my melanoma and some lymph nodes, which tested negative for cancer. I will have many more biopsies, skin checks, and physical exams at the oncologist’s office over the next several years, but I am currently thought of as “no evidence of disease,” or NED. My boys will have their mother around for hopefully a very long time. I now understand the harsh reality that good health is not promised to all. I am so grateful that Lucille and Lillian reached out for help. I will continue holding onto hope that with the treatments available to them both, they will continue to heal, and one day, flourish.