The words that come to mind when reflecting on Bree’s initial diagnosis is that it was ruthless and relentless.
Rewinding back to early May 2023, Bree complained of stomach pain and constipation and a general feeling of unwellness. As she was 37 weeks pregnant with her second daughter, there was a general assumption that late pregnancy discomfort was taking its toll and soon it will all be over when her baby was born. The level of pain increased, and Bree knew there was more to it than a growing baby. She was admitted to hospital to do general checks on the baby and was told by nurses and doctors that baby was fine and that Bree was constipated and needed to take some medication to help with that.
She went home and took it easy whilst setting up for bringing her baby home until she didn’t feel any better and went back into hospital. Doctors were limited to how much invasive scanning and testing they can do until the baby was born. Beautiful Zara was born on May 5 via elective caesarean which was encouraged also due to Bree’s health concerns.
After her time in hospital Bree and her husband took Zara home with their eldest daughter Ellie and I remember Bree just wanting to rest. She found it very difficult to pick Zara up and mother her when her stomach was still not feeling any better. About a week or so after Zara was born and Bree was at home, she found herself on the shower floor in pain and new she needed to return to the hospital for answers. The doctors did further detailed scanning which revealed a large tumour on her colon and that there was evidence of cancer that has already spread to her lungs and liver and perhaps elsewhere in the body. At that time they believed it was bowel cancer.
I remember Bree sending me a message to call her when I have time, I was away on a family holiday and reading her text automatically I knew it wasn’t going to be great. It was a gut feeling and I feared the worst.
Bree was the epitome of good health. A Pilates instructor, ultra-marathon runner, she was studying nutrition at university at the time also and looked after herself extremely well. I would often go to her for health advice, and she would always be on Dad’s case about eating too many cakes with his coffee. Cancer proved that it doesn’t discriminate.
I have tried and I still try to put myself in Bree’s shoes about how it would’ve felt receiving that awful news from the doctor, but my heart breaks and I can’t even go there. I have two young daughters of similar age and life for us was just getting started.
The day after Bree received her diagnosis which was May 18, she was sent in a transfer vehicle without her newborn and family to a hospital about 1hr 45mins from her home to have emergency colectomy surgery and came out with a stoma bag and huge scar held together with staples. The conversation we had whilst she was travelling alone on that bus was the most heart breaking and just total disbelief of what was unfolding. Her husband had to introduce Zara to formula with Bree being so far away. This was stressful for them.
I flew down to be with her in hospital and her scar went from under her boobs right down to her pubic bone crossing her caesarean scar like a cross. A stoma nurse came to help her learn how to use it and what life is like with one. Bree was adamant that a stoma bag wouldn’t stop her from living her best life and to be honest that was the least of her worries at the time.
Biopsy testing of the tumour revealed that it was Neuroendocrine Carcinoma (NEC) and that it most likely only formed halfway through her pregnancy. I remember us talking about we have never heard of this type of cancer and how rare it is. Bree posted on social media that it was time to “Slay the beast” and asked everyone for their best wishes. She was referring to her cancer as it was literally a beast. It felt like it was spreading throughout her body quicker than time was passing and she had to receive chemotherapy as soon as possible. She remained in hospital until she was stable, and she was hesitant to return home, even though she was craving life to be normal and time together with her family. She felt comfort in having nurses and a doctor nearby in a hospital.
Bree received her first dose of chemotherapy and only one day of it. It was expected that if her blood results were stable then she would receive day 2 and 3 and potentially a second round in 3 weeks’ time after. Her oncologist advised not to go ahead with day 2 which was devastating as that indicated her liver was not coping, and another day of chemo could potentially put her in intensive care. The focus quickly moved onto the liver.
Bree’s bloods remained stable and returned home in hope that she would rest and wait for further instructions to receive a second round of chemo. She became more unwell, and specialists advised she had about 2 weeks to live. I didn’t accept this. What about other options and other oncologists who specialise in type of rare cancer? Bree said she doesn’t have much time; it’s spreading too fast. She said chemo would kill her quicker than her having her 2 weeks left. What about a liver transplant? Her diagnosis and prognosis came about so quickly there was no slowing it down and I couldn’t keep up. Sadly, a liver transplant wouldn’t be an option since cancer cells had already spread to other parts of her body.
I spent the 2 weeks caring for Bree with her husband and two girls and it was the most stressful experience. Bree was matter of fact and we spoke about what it might be like to die and she hoped that we would all be there when she left us. We reminded each other of how lucky we were to be sisters in this lifetime, and I reminded her that she had already instilled so much of her mothering into her daughters that they will be ok, and they will be reminded of Bree.
Bree was running out of steam, and she just wanted to rest and not eat or drink. Her medication was delivered through a trigger box and once her breathing became unsteady, we transferred her to a hospice. The logistics of transferring Bree to hospice via ambulance whilst her eldest daughter was taking her lunch nap, so she doesn’t have an imprint of Mummy going in an ambulance was heartbreaking, but it was important. So there were many complexities to her cancer journey other than just fighting it.
Bree was a pragmatic thinker, and we accomplished a lot of her wishes in those final weeks. Bree’s end of life experience was surrounded by Zara, her husband, our Dad and myself. We held Bree whilst she took her last breath at 1:30pm on the 10th July.
Bree’s Instagram page is full of words of wisdom, adventures, and achievements that I highly recommend going over there for a read. Her IG page is @breecorbett_
She was keen to raise awareness of NECs and I know she would be thrilled to see more research and support go into this cause. Bree’s moto was to live a free, full and fearless life.
Written by Bree’s sister, Jess