At 32, Rosie Proctor had just moved in with her partner and was living out her dream career as a nurse on the Gold Coast. Then a shock blood cancer diagnosis turned her from caregiver to patient at the very hospital where she worked.

At the beginning of 1993, Rosie was optimistic about the year ahead. “I was a busy nurse doing shift work and just enjoying life,” she says. “[I was] just doing normal, everyday stuff.”

“I had been with my partner for many years, and we had always shared a house with other people. We decided to make a commitment and move in together. I took a couple of days off work just to get the house together.”

As she was setting up the house and excitedly preparing for life’s next chapter, Rosie began feeling a ‘nagging pain’ in her hip.

Rosie went straight to her GP, who initially suspected that it was Ross River Fever, a viral infection transmitted through mosquito bites.

However, after running some further blood tests and an x-ray on her hip, her GP informed her that it was more serious than initially thought and that she needed to go to the hospital immediately.

“I spent a horrendous evening in accident and emergency, with all sorts of tests and of course it was the same hospital where I worked as a nurse, so I knew everybody. I was in such shock. And by then, word had spread throughout the hospital amongst all my colleagues that potentially I had leukaemia.”

“It was a very different feeling for me being a patient and being in the same hospital where I worked.”

The following morning, Rosie was officially diagnosed with acute myeloid leukaemia, and began induction chemotherapy at the Gold Coast Hospital.

To make matters even worse, Rosie was told that she was unlikely to ever return to work. The months that followed leading up to her stem cell transplant were tough.

“I spent around nine months in hospital for my transplant,” she recalls. “I had a couple of little breaks in between where I went home for a couple of weeks. But my whole world had just shrunk down to a hospital bed and my locker.”

I didn’t know who I was. I’d lost faith in my ability to be well. I had nothing else to talk about but the complications of my illness. I was a sad person to be around. I think looking back, clinically, I was depressed.”

“[But] I got through. How? I’m not sure. I guess I just continued to journal, and I listened to lots of music. My eyesight was bad, so I couldn’t read, watch TV, drive, or do anything like that. I relied heavily on my family and my partner to support me to get me through.”

In September 1993 – seven months after being diagnosed – Rosie underwent a stem cell transplant in Brisbane, with her sibling as the donor.

“I was very fortunate,” she says. “She’s my oldest sister. She had lived in New Zealand since I was 11, before moving to Singapore. They had just arrived back in Australia the month before I was diagnosed to live. It was perfect timing.”

Despite her stem cell transplant being a success, Rosie continued to feel unwell and found herself lacking both energy and purpose.

“I just felt so unwell for so many years [following the transplant] that I put all my energy into trying to get better and healing myself. I used to fantasise about a world where I was no longer sick.”

“I did deals with God. I prayed. I screamed. I did lots of stuff. I sang lots. I did lots of soul searching in that time. I was constantly looking for the reason I got sick.”

“And then suddenly everything just clicked. I guess I got better. I was feeling much more well in myself, and stronger, and positive.”

This sudden yet welcome change reinvigorated Rosie to stop looking to the past, but towards the future. Because she could only control the latter.

“I realised that all of those things don’t matter. It doesn’t matter why I was diagnosed. It happened. It changed me. And I just have to go from here.”

She decided to return to university and complete her studies to become a registered nurse.

“I just embraced the whole thing. [But] it’s scary moving forward. I read a book called ‘Feel the Fear, But Do It Anyway’, and it really helped me know that it was okay to feel frightened about stepping out of your comfort zone and doing stuff that you’d never done before. And it really helped me move forward in not just work, but life in general.”

When asked about what advice and learnings she’d give to others on their own blood cancer journey, Rosie emphasises the importance of trusting those around you, and focusing on what you can control.

“Take it step by step. Don’t get caught up worrying about stuff that may or may not happen. And put your trust into your treating team and listen to them, because they’re on your side. And write things down, I did find it quite therapeutic.”

Rosie has now been a registered nurse for over 20 years, returning to the same hospital where she had been both a caregiver and a patient.

And looking back on that experience, while it was the hardest thing she’s ever had to go through, it made her the strong, resilient and passionate person she is today. And for that, she’s eternally grateful.

“My cancer journey will never leave me,” she says. “It’s now a part of my life, but I have moved beyond it. It was long and treacherous, but it changed me as a person. It’s made me stronger, and I’ve got more respect for myself. And I like who I am, who I’ve become now.”

“I always had a favourite saying, and I still say it, most days of my life. ‘Life doesn’t have to be perfect to be wonderful.’”

To learn more about Rosie’s blood cancer journey, you can listen to this episode of the Talking Blood Cancer Podcast where she sits down with host Maryanne Skarparis to recount her journey with acute myeloid leukaemia.

If you are in a crisis situation

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