How breast cancer and grief spurred me on to do crazy AF things

Ruth Hoskins - 17 Oct 18

Back in 2014 I was the ultimate stressed-out mum. I was working ALL the hours in my creative content agency that I had grown to seven full-time people, turning over multiple six-figures. I was pitching for (and winning) major luxury and lifestyle brands as clients. I got up at 4am to work  before my kids woke up. Because that’s what I thought success looked like. My kids were young (4 and 2) and always in wrap around care.

I was also looking after my own mum, who had returning, mega-aggressive and terminal Non Hodgkins lymphoma. We’d moved next door to her so we could care for her as she faced such an ugly and painful time. She was in hospital with pneumonia, non existent white blood cells and frighteningly low blood pressure almost every week. I became best friends with 999, drug charts and blood results.

Life was stressful but I had no idea of the freight train that was steaming uncontrollably towards me. That I was about to find a lump in my breast. I was 38. That it was going to be aggressive and had spread to my lymph nodes. That I was about to face 18 months of chemotherapy, herceptin, a mastectomy, radiotherapy. The full shebang, with love from the NHS.

I was so shocked after my diagnosis that I couldn’t even face a stiff brandy. Those dark, dark days were filled with thoughts of death, of planning my kids future without me, of thinking about my husband in the aftermath. Deciding which people I wanted to line up to help him. I stress-checked the NHS “stats” to look at how likely it was to return (likely) or the treatment not to work. In short I was only a step away from planning my own funeral.

I thought I’d hit my low point but there was more to come. I dealt with the treatment OK. I was healthy, running regularly and eating a vegan diet. But one day I was having my chemotherapy, sitting talking to the butchers wife who was in the same room (as you do) when a nurse came in and told me my mum had been brought in and was in the urgent treatment room, that her observations were seriously worrying and they weren’t sure she would survive. I disconnected all my tubes and ran in to see her. She did survive that episode, although never again returned home.

I remember feeling totally out of control. Dealing with a double cancer whammy and then the shock of realising my mum only had hospice care left as an option. I thought I’d been through enough hard times to cope (losing my dad at a young age, nearly dying myself in intensive care, being adopted). But this.

Losing my s**t is an understatement.

The night my beautiful mum died was painful and traumatic and I still haven’t processed that part, but after being awake all night with her taking her last breaths came the stark realisation I had to go straight from the hospice to my own chemotherapy date.

It was then that my husband said: “when this is all over, let’s move abroad for a bit. Let’s get some sunshine, let’s heal, and let’s do some bucket list stuff.”

I always knew he was the one for me but this pretty much cemented ALL my reasons for marrying him.

So, the week after my chemotherapy finished we literally packed up the kids and left our house, our business, our friends, school life and decamped to Barcelona. My husband had never been to Barcelona but I had good friends there. A life-affirming city of sunshine, culture and amazing food.

We rented a big house with a pool in the hills outside the city, we bought a bright yellow campervan and embarked on the family experience of a lifetime.

Our kids loved school there. The playground looked over the Meditteranean. We made AMAZING friends. We travelled Spain and a lot of Southern Europe in our van. We camped wild on the surfing beaches of beautiful Galicia, jumped into crystal waters in Croatia, spent weekends in the Pyrenees, explored almost all of Catalonia, skied, sailed, hiked, swam, danced and laughed.

I hope my kids will never forgot what we did together. Travelled to 17 countries in two years, slept under the stars, danced around campsites, had loads of 8 hour Catalan lunches with their friends, learned to speak Spanish and Catalan, lived in our van for a total of 6 months, after-school on the beach, chiringuito Sunday’s, skiing Saturday’s, all the fiestas and fireworks and so much more.

If my cancer returns, the only positive will be all these memories that we made. Etched in our hearts and minds whatever the future brings.

And I healed. Or as healed as anyone who’s been through grief can heal. Long walks on the beach, endless vitamin D, dancing in the rain on the beach and listening to more music and podcasts than I had done in years worked.

After two-and-a-half years I knew I was ready.

Ready to come home.

As much as we loved our time there, there were big family reasons to come home. But I knew I had to do something amazing if I was going to settle back into our life in York.

We spent three months travelling in our van back from Barcelona and it was there that I mapped out and started my future business. I wrote my business plan as the sun rose by Lake Garda. I had calls with my amazing creative coach – Jen Carrington – on alpine passes, parked up by crystal blue streams and sitting in the shade on Croatian beaches.

I just knew my future was in coaching creative women and travelling at the same time. I wanted to work for people, not businesses. I wanted to create content and coach people to do amazing things, to create a lifestyle business that fitted around their needs and gave back to. I called it Palm Creative Tribe because I had to bring a bit of our life in Spain back with me. To give me hope and colour through winters up North. To give me an excuse to travel to palmy destinations, because it’s “on brand. ;)”

Although I would rather have my mum, I have to be grateful for what all those sh**ty life situations gave me in life lessons and motivation.

I’m writing this for the person who is going through hard times to offer a touch of hope. Dark days can turn to light.

I made my own lemonade. So can you.

Love Ruth xo

PS: This is my first article here, I’m excited. hi to everyone.

PPS: We called our campervan Annie, after my mum. I’m over on the gram as @ruthie_hoskins_ and our van @anniethevan

Ruth Hoskins

I'm a northern mum of 2 (3 including my stepson). I'm obsessed with palm trees, adventure and travelling in my yellow campervan. I lived in Barcelona for the last two years but back in the UK now. Massive fan of vegetables, 80s movies and riding my bike too. Oh and I coach awesome women to grow their own beautiful creative businesses.

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