When Te Awamutu’s Elizabeth Douglas called The News to say she was getting her head shaved as part of her cancer journey, we asked for a picture and some words. What eventually arrived was a heart-warming, often humorous story of her journey. We’ve decided to share it with readers – and we’ll keep you posted.
Elizabeth Douglas, sitting, and Lily Jennings.
In October, I had a cold and discovered some lumps in my neck. Within three weeks, with blood tests and trips to the hospital, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma stage two.
I found that this explained why I was walking less, sitting down more, and leaving so many tasks uncompleted. I was the designated mower-of-lawns, and they looked terrible.
Days after the diagnosis I went to get a haircut and was immediately encouraged to go wild if I was going to lose it anyway. I had less than 4 months. First just a cut-and-colour, then on a dare from a loving younger sister, I went bright blue.
Elizabeth Douglas, sitting, and Lily Jennings.
In support my sisters came from Tauranga and changed their hair colours – one to wacky red-and-pink, and the other purple-and green. And my mother went purple too. Less than two weeks later I noticed that some hair was falling out so my beautiful new “do” was going to have to disappear. Devastating for any woman. So, I called my stylist again. When I arrived (having cried when I made the appointment) every stylist was wearing pink and was ready to celebrate my No. 2 cut. Shout out to the lovely team at Vivo in Te Awamutu! The church elders drove from Hamilton to visit, pray, and offer support and meals. It surprised me how much people were willing to do to help.
I found myself in hospital with a blood clot. They diagnosed it swiftly, and moved me into a ward, where the oncology nurses treated me like a princess. On Sundays at the hospital the Salvation Army play hymns outside the wards and if you sneak out (shh!) they will quietly hand you a Bible verse. I was told that church would be a dangerous place for me during treatment.
I am now in my second round of chemo. I am exhausted but happy because family called after my first day and an auntie offered out of nowhere to drive me home. It is these people who have seen me through – the small laughs and jokes, and the hospital lady who remembers my drink order.
Hair on the floor.
It hasn’t been all beer and skittles (which is OK because I don’t like beer or skittles). Obviously losing my hair, the necessity of wearing make-up for a person to whom it doesn’t come naturally, having to ask people to perform the most basic tasks, such as fetching me things that are just out of my reach, but because I have been assured that I was enough of a hypochondriac to see those lumps as something strange and taking them to the doctor, I have been assured of a 99 per cent chance of recovery. I have been given a timeline. I may not always be able to stand, but I can still (usually) laugh.
Te Awamutu News 13 February 2025
It has been a roller-coaster, with one medication causing me a lack of sleep and strange bursts of energy, leading to some entertaining stories, such as weed-spraying the courtyard at 3am, moving chairs, table, and pot-plants right under the window of a sleeping family member who didn’t wake up. Another time the family member found me cleaning the range-hood filters in the wee small hours – she rolled her eyes and went back to bed. They adjusted my medication after that.
My life has had to go on hold for a few months. I was already on a sickness benefit, but I help teach English as a second language in a couple of evening classes, and I help with a friend’s three-year-old, taking him to Playcentre.
Every time you mention cancer people always relate it to a family member or friend who has (or has had) cancer. Noticing cancer early is the greatest treatment option you can offer yourself, so don’t delay.
Personally, I found it surprising the number of people who stepped forward in a world that I considered to be tapped out who would drive, pray, visit, cook meals, and care for my carer, because cancer is time-consuming, it interrupts your routines (and theirs) and is exhausting for everyone.
Strangely, the greatest gift you can give is food and a (short!) visit. I have found these to be the highlight of my experience.
It also brings families back together even though our society takes us far away. I have seen more of my sisters than I would normally, and it is wonderful to speak to my friends, sometimes daily.
Is that me in the mirror? Elizabeth Douglas with the Vivo team, from left, Matty Turlington, Emerald Barlow, Lily Jennings, Katrina Lindsay Rogers and Sammy Fataaiki.
