I have spent the last month organising a wedding fayre, and to be honest it has been extremely difficult. However I have patted myself on the back for a job well done. In between I've built up a Wedding Networking group and ran our friend's company while they have been away. Yes I have been exhausted, yes I had to push myself, as in the middle of all this I have had another bout of chemo - which wasn't any where near as as bad as the last lot - see last post -where my whole perceptive on life changed.
However I did it and now as my last chemo looms - hurrah I move into the next stage of my treatment -radiotherapy - I am feeling a little more satisfied that hopefully it will be my last ever chemo and in a couple of weeks I can have the PICC line removed. ( the line that is permanently in my arm that goes from my arm round to just above my heart inside my body. This is what the chemo goes into ) Then I'm looking forward to my hair, eyelashes, and eyebrows growing back so I won't look so much like a alien.
I recently described myself to one of my friends as a " Blown up cartoon version of myself" simply because everything about me is false - hair, eyebrows, eyelashes. Obviously one of my boobs is now made up of a temporary implant with skin grafted from my back, so this is false - however it will be corrected after radiotherapy finishes.
I am so blown up with all the steroids that I simply do not recognise myself any more. I can now fill out a pair of jeans in the bum area - which my husband loves. My legs are unrecognisable as normally they are skinny, but now they look a normal size and trousers cling to them which is unbelievable. My arms are huge and my face has ballooned up. Apart from the fact that nothing fits me, I have now borrowed my friend's size 12 jeans and have given her some of my size 10's. (The cow has lost weight )So everything that was Wendie has now been erased.
A couple of weeks ago we went to a friends for dinner, or a " Food orgy." A few things happened, first of all I had to wear an elasticated jumpsuit, which to be fair looked very elegant and once I had dressed it up it did look good, however teamed with a long wavy wig, false eyelashes etc. the person looking out of the mirror was not me. Elegant yes - funny, chatty, kooky, slim Wendie - no, it was bloody fat version of Jessica Rabbit!
My friends were amazing, the food was fabulous however I couldn't taste it. I managed a glass or two of wine, and joined in the conversation, in-between hot flushes where sweat was dripping of me, everyone noticed my struggle and suggested that I take off my wig as I was amongst friends. I was nearly in tears as I felt quite poorly, but I refused to give in - I've had to cancel so many things due to bloody cancer- I was staying put if it killed me. Anyway, eventually I took the wig off and sat there dressed up, full make up and a bald head. Do you know what? No one was bothered, they were more interested in trying on the wig. Andrew said he was proud of me and the others said I looked good bald, even though I was pleased that the wig had come off and felt better I still felt strange that I was the only female with the bald head.
Then just as I was beginning to feel okay about the lack of hair on my head, I was sick - all over our friend's kitchen - Errr taxi for The Webb's........
I know that as time goes on my fight with Cancer will end. My hair will grow back and the steroids and chemo will wear off. I look at other cancer survivors and they're all really positive people - after all what is the alternative?
I will - hopefully - get the all clear when I am 50 - five long years, however I don't think you every stop worrying that it will come back,worst case scenario is that it could spread or it won't have all been zapped, what a way to live thinking about that every day. However, I have plans - so many things that I want to do, I don't have time for cancer- it just seems that some days it gets the better of me and I have to make time for it, much to my annoyance, but even now I am fighting.
In the last couple of weeks I have had someone I know who has been diagnosed with it, and someone else die from it. Now I could get all philosophical here, but to be fair - I am angry, not for me you understand,
No, for me I have never really been angry I have been accepting I have just done as I am told and got on with it.No I'm angry that this terrible disease can grab anyone, at any time. The friend that had been diagnosed came round for a cup of tea. I poured her a large glass of wine - what should I say to her? She asked me if she was going to die. I said no the aim is to cure. She cried because she felt that she would not see her children grow up. I told her that I couldn't pretend as there was no good news, however she needed to stay strong and bloody minded and she would see her children grow up.She would have good days and bad but if she stayed strong she would get through it and before she looked round her life would be back to normal. She may not have to have chemo, or radiotherapy she may just have the lumps taken away and that would be it. However she cried and cried........... why her? She just wanted to be normal, this is what made me angry this woman minding her own business and getting on with her life who has already been through stress in her life, all of a sudden she has her world turned upside down because of bloody cancer. It broke my heart, that night I thought about her, did I help her? Did I say the right things? How can you give good news when there isn't any, but like I told her there is always hope, and strength. Maybe I wasn't the best person to ask! I cried on my husband why her? Life was so cruel.
1 in 3 women are diagnosed with cancer, what is the world coming to? The flip side is of course cancer can be cured, in this day and age we don't just get handed a death sentence. Yes its bloody horrible and its a long fight, but we can be cured, and this is what keeps me going, this is what I hang on to - every single day. I just hope my friend will..........as I don't know if I am strong enough for both of us.
Monday, 29 April 2013
Friday, 29 March 2013
It's life Jim - but not as we know it!
So much has happened in the last couple of weeks that I didn't know how to write about it - so I didn't. I find that as long as I can coast along in life I am okay, but if anything comes along that slightly rocks my boat, I am no longer able to deal with it rationally. I can cry at the slightest thing, my resistance is at an all time low. I always thought I was stronger than I am - I have come to the realisation that I am not invincible neither am I superhuman.
Let me explain, last week I went to see my oncologist Dr Sarah who told me what to expect with my next course of chemo - I was half way through - hurrah, it would be super sailing all the way - or so I thought. Any preconceptions I had about myself and my ability to fight this dreadful disease flew out of the window last weekend. Dr Sarah called me in as normal the day before my 4th chemo session. I told her how well I had reacted to the last dose and she told me about Taxotere. The next 3 doses that I was due to have.... after we discussed all the new symptoms that I may or may not have, rather blase I said " So it will just be like having the flu then" this was not a question rather a statement. I then left the chemo suite went home and convinced hubby and myself that it was going to be anywhere near as bad as FEC the last treatment of chemo that I had just had. Brilliant, I thought now just get through the next couple of months get the radiotherapy out the way and get my boobs re done and that'll be me sorted.
Oh how we deceive ourselves when we are eternal optimists. Not once did I think this next course of treatment would hinder my life. Yes of course I have had to adjust my life around cancer, and it has been a bit stop start, feel sorry for myself, but stiff upper lip Wendie. Put on your make up and wig and don't play the victim. Other patients have told me how gruelling they found their treatment, and I..........yes I, in my infinite wisdom on what we call life, have been smug - yes bloody smug, when this wonderful people have told me their stories of horrific times they've had through their chemo, I've always thought " well that won't be me, I just get my head down and work my way through it" I cannot believe how narrow minded, and near sighted I have been.
Now I could beat myself up here but to be frank - I don't have the energy to waste on such trivial matters. Basically I have got too big for my boots and Taxotere came along and made me realise that I am no different to the next person. I am no braver, no stronger and certainly no more a fighter than anyone else that has ever battled with cancer.
The day after Chemo hubby and I went to Spec savers and picked up our new glasses and to be fair I felt no worst than any other time I still managed to look in the odd shoe shop.
However, Saturday onwards was a different matter. I never left the house for a nearly a week, I struggled between sofa, toilet and bed. Nothing could prepare me for the great takeover that I experienced. Every part of my body felt like it was screaming out in pain, by Wednesday I felt that my spine was being drilled into. My fingertips were so sore that I could not hold a cup or glass so typing was out of the question. Besides I was rarely conscious for most of the week. Chemo took hold in such a way that my brain couldn't tell my body whether it was full up with food, or empty. I didn't know the different between wanting to go to the toilet or not. In fact on two occasions I am ashamed to say I wet myself. I didn't know if I was hungry, so I kept eating. I couldn't taste anything and I craved my brain to recognise food. I put salt on dinners and sugar on cereals. When I wasn't lying on the sofa I didn't know if I was asleep or not. My brain took on this tunnel like fog that I didn't recognise. Standing proved painful, sitting down was agony. I couldn't support my head and I was so weak that walking proved impossible. My breast that had been operated on had the most unbearable stabbing pains. My back where the scars are felt like someone had stabbed me with red hot pokers, and my arm where the nerves had been stripped out along with lymph nodes had pulling sensations that felt like my arm was going to explode. My legs and feet felt like someone had trampled all over them and my whole body felt like someone had taken away my frame as I could not sit or stand upright. My stomach was so swollen that I couldn't get any clothes on apart from yoga trousers. To top it all when I looked in the mirror I had become what I feared most - a cancer victim. No hair, no eyebrows, barely any eyelashes and a grey like pallor. A look of total defeat was written all over my face. This was one battle I could not win. It had taken me over. All I could think of was - no more, I cannot take any more. I am done. Complete. Defeated.
As I lay there in pain I had a chat with God - I questioned him over and over, if you exist then why? Why? I lay in the bath in a haze of half living, dribbling and exhausted. I thought of my wonderful husband who had that half out of his mind with worry look, I realised how soul destroying this was for him. My children who had sat and spoke to me when I was in the land of consciousness with smudges under there eyes and fretful looks on their faces, when I struggled to tell them everything was going to be fine. Just give me another day or so and I'll be fine. In my head I am ashamed to say I realise now how - people make their peace with God. How they pick a day and say, this is a good day to die. I planned my funeral in my sleep and when I was awake I told my husband that this was the end of the road for me. I could not put my body through any more. "You realise that I don't want any more chemo" I told him. He nodded his head and turned away, after what seemed like a lifetime he faced me again, took a step closer and said " Yes you bloody well will, you are not giving up do you hear me - don't be so bloody selfish, you have me and the kids and family and friends that rely on you, we've got plans. So no, you will finish this treatment do you hear me? You are not bloody giving up, because I won't let you" I glanced at him and managed a weak laugh. Slowly I put my arms around his neck " No darling" I whispered. " I won't give up, because it is not all about me, but if there were no one else for me to fight for, I would not fight. I would not put myself through any more" again he nodded.
We both realised then that everything we had hoped and dreamt for would never be the same again. Our lives had changed. I had changed, cancer has crept up through the back door and stole something from me and mine when I wasn't looking. When it first came along I took it on the chin we all did, because I insisted that I would be fine and everyone believed me, and trusted in me, put their faith in me - but now it has stolen something precious from me. It has taken my foundations and my very soul and shook them. Everything I thought I was and everything I believed in is now in question. My strength, my beliefs, me and who I stand for have been tossed around. I don't know who I am any more, but more importantly I don't know what I stand for, my instincts are gone, my zest for life- bland. Like the snow on the ground this springtime, everything is covered and nothing is appearing in shades of colour.
Yesterday the sun shone and I painted my nails pink.
Let me explain, last week I went to see my oncologist Dr Sarah who told me what to expect with my next course of chemo - I was half way through - hurrah, it would be super sailing all the way - or so I thought. Any preconceptions I had about myself and my ability to fight this dreadful disease flew out of the window last weekend. Dr Sarah called me in as normal the day before my 4th chemo session. I told her how well I had reacted to the last dose and she told me about Taxotere. The next 3 doses that I was due to have.... after we discussed all the new symptoms that I may or may not have, rather blase I said " So it will just be like having the flu then" this was not a question rather a statement. I then left the chemo suite went home and convinced hubby and myself that it was going to be anywhere near as bad as FEC the last treatment of chemo that I had just had. Brilliant, I thought now just get through the next couple of months get the radiotherapy out the way and get my boobs re done and that'll be me sorted.
Oh how we deceive ourselves when we are eternal optimists. Not once did I think this next course of treatment would hinder my life. Yes of course I have had to adjust my life around cancer, and it has been a bit stop start, feel sorry for myself, but stiff upper lip Wendie. Put on your make up and wig and don't play the victim. Other patients have told me how gruelling they found their treatment, and I..........yes I, in my infinite wisdom on what we call life, have been smug - yes bloody smug, when this wonderful people have told me their stories of horrific times they've had through their chemo, I've always thought " well that won't be me, I just get my head down and work my way through it" I cannot believe how narrow minded, and near sighted I have been.
Now I could beat myself up here but to be frank - I don't have the energy to waste on such trivial matters. Basically I have got too big for my boots and Taxotere came along and made me realise that I am no different to the next person. I am no braver, no stronger and certainly no more a fighter than anyone else that has ever battled with cancer.
The day after Chemo hubby and I went to Spec savers and picked up our new glasses and to be fair I felt no worst than any other time I still managed to look in the odd shoe shop.
However, Saturday onwards was a different matter. I never left the house for a nearly a week, I struggled between sofa, toilet and bed. Nothing could prepare me for the great takeover that I experienced. Every part of my body felt like it was screaming out in pain, by Wednesday I felt that my spine was being drilled into. My fingertips were so sore that I could not hold a cup or glass so typing was out of the question. Besides I was rarely conscious for most of the week. Chemo took hold in such a way that my brain couldn't tell my body whether it was full up with food, or empty. I didn't know the different between wanting to go to the toilet or not. In fact on two occasions I am ashamed to say I wet myself. I didn't know if I was hungry, so I kept eating. I couldn't taste anything and I craved my brain to recognise food. I put salt on dinners and sugar on cereals. When I wasn't lying on the sofa I didn't know if I was asleep or not. My brain took on this tunnel like fog that I didn't recognise. Standing proved painful, sitting down was agony. I couldn't support my head and I was so weak that walking proved impossible. My breast that had been operated on had the most unbearable stabbing pains. My back where the scars are felt like someone had stabbed me with red hot pokers, and my arm where the nerves had been stripped out along with lymph nodes had pulling sensations that felt like my arm was going to explode. My legs and feet felt like someone had trampled all over them and my whole body felt like someone had taken away my frame as I could not sit or stand upright. My stomach was so swollen that I couldn't get any clothes on apart from yoga trousers. To top it all when I looked in the mirror I had become what I feared most - a cancer victim. No hair, no eyebrows, barely any eyelashes and a grey like pallor. A look of total defeat was written all over my face. This was one battle I could not win. It had taken me over. All I could think of was - no more, I cannot take any more. I am done. Complete. Defeated.
As I lay there in pain I had a chat with God - I questioned him over and over, if you exist then why? Why? I lay in the bath in a haze of half living, dribbling and exhausted. I thought of my wonderful husband who had that half out of his mind with worry look, I realised how soul destroying this was for him. My children who had sat and spoke to me when I was in the land of consciousness with smudges under there eyes and fretful looks on their faces, when I struggled to tell them everything was going to be fine. Just give me another day or so and I'll be fine. In my head I am ashamed to say I realise now how - people make their peace with God. How they pick a day and say, this is a good day to die. I planned my funeral in my sleep and when I was awake I told my husband that this was the end of the road for me. I could not put my body through any more. "You realise that I don't want any more chemo" I told him. He nodded his head and turned away, after what seemed like a lifetime he faced me again, took a step closer and said " Yes you bloody well will, you are not giving up do you hear me - don't be so bloody selfish, you have me and the kids and family and friends that rely on you, we've got plans. So no, you will finish this treatment do you hear me? You are not bloody giving up, because I won't let you" I glanced at him and managed a weak laugh. Slowly I put my arms around his neck " No darling" I whispered. " I won't give up, because it is not all about me, but if there were no one else for me to fight for, I would not fight. I would not put myself through any more" again he nodded.
We both realised then that everything we had hoped and dreamt for would never be the same again. Our lives had changed. I had changed, cancer has crept up through the back door and stole something from me and mine when I wasn't looking. When it first came along I took it on the chin we all did, because I insisted that I would be fine and everyone believed me, and trusted in me, put their faith in me - but now it has stolen something precious from me. It has taken my foundations and my very soul and shook them. Everything I thought I was and everything I believed in is now in question. My strength, my beliefs, me and who I stand for have been tossed around. I don't know who I am any more, but more importantly I don't know what I stand for, my instincts are gone, my zest for life- bland. Like the snow on the ground this springtime, everything is covered and nothing is appearing in shades of colour.
Yesterday the sun shone and I painted my nails pink.
Monday, 11 March 2013
New wig - Hollywood wives are calling!
Last week I expected to feel really rubbish, but apart from the Monday where I spent all day sleeping and reading on the sofa in my knitted slouch hat and dressing gown ( Oh yes I did and I didn't beat myself up) I worked the rest of the week without being propped up.
Hubby told me how proud he was of me for taking the day off and doing nothing. Obviously I didn't tell him about the cleaning of the bathroom and the couple of loads that went into the washing machine, but honestly he was so relieved when he came home from a long day at work to find me cuddled up on the sofa.
Normally he's telling me to sit down and rest. My chemo nurses say the same. So on Monday I did what I was told and I loved it, also after sleeping in-between chapters I managed to finish my book!
Tuesday onwards I was still waiting for the chemo to kick in, apart from my mouth feeling very strange, really sensitive, dry and metal tasting and having a problem with my back and neck - another story. I felt okay. At least a 6 out of ten maybe a 7 and it lasted all week much to my delight.
Also on Tuesday another new wig turned up - drum roll please - it was a long wavy blonde/brown one, I was so excited - however I wondered if I would look like mutton dressed as lamb? Or some old bird out of a Jackie Collins novel? Or heaven forbid - my mother? Would transvestite's look at me and want me to join their new dance troupe or would the kids and hubby roll their eyes and laugh at me? A million thoughts ran through my head. So with great trepidation I put it on - and pulled it off - no not off my head but really pulled it off - it looked great. Hubby told me I looked lovely. The kids told me they liked it - heaven forbid!
So I got dressed and went to work wearing it. No one saw the hot flushes and the frantic tucking behind the ears whilst swearing as I tried to get used to it. In fact I sauntered round Tescos afterwards and was suprised that no one laughed at me.
Now I've put on weight recently - I blame the steroids and not the fact that I cannot stop bloody eating and do you know what a long wavy wig along with a large handbag definitely makes you look thinner. Don't ask me how, it just does.
On Thursday I sashayed into Chemo wearing it. Caroline one of the other ladies who also has chemo the same days as I couldn't figure out what was different about me. The nurses thought it was fabulous. Apparently they love Andrew and myself coming into the ward, they guess what colour outfit I going to be wearing, how high my shoes are going to be and what wig I'm going to be modelling that week. The words I hear often are " We love it when our Wendie comes in she always looks so glamorous" this makes me feel fantastic. Admittedly we did get put in the naughty corner last week for giggling Andrew and I.
We laugh all through my treatment, we giggle with the nurses and we smile at all the patients. Don't get me wrong I hate chemo, but I look forward to seeing the lovely nurses, tea ladies and everyone else that makes the chemo unit so bloody wonderful. These beautiful people are allowing me to stay alive. So I'm doing it in style.
On Friday we took the kids bowling. I had so much energy that I was dancing and moon walking in the lane - much to my son's disgust. The more he ask me to stop the more I wiggled and jiggled. Don't get me wrong I am not an exhibitionist, I just felt so happy to be alive and out and about with my family having a good time. We laughed and jumped up and down every time one of us scored cheered each other on when we were rubbish and generally had a great time. Its one of those days I will cherish - it doesn't happen very often now being the fact that they are both teenagers. I did at one point run into the ladies and have a bit of a grizzle with happiness, sad I know but wow, what a great day.
Saturday afternoon I met up with some friends had a fantastic lunch and a gossip, I was suppose to go out again in the evening but I was done for. So hubby and I had a great dinner at home and put our feet up. Then just to finish off a great week Sunday for Mothers day was the perfect ending. No wonder I'm putting on weight!
I have to say that lucky stars are well and truly thanked. My life is fab!
Hubby told me how proud he was of me for taking the day off and doing nothing. Obviously I didn't tell him about the cleaning of the bathroom and the couple of loads that went into the washing machine, but honestly he was so relieved when he came home from a long day at work to find me cuddled up on the sofa.
Normally he's telling me to sit down and rest. My chemo nurses say the same. So on Monday I did what I was told and I loved it, also after sleeping in-between chapters I managed to finish my book!
Tuesday onwards I was still waiting for the chemo to kick in, apart from my mouth feeling very strange, really sensitive, dry and metal tasting and having a problem with my back and neck - another story. I felt okay. At least a 6 out of ten maybe a 7 and it lasted all week much to my delight.
Also on Tuesday another new wig turned up - drum roll please - it was a long wavy blonde/brown one, I was so excited - however I wondered if I would look like mutton dressed as lamb? Or some old bird out of a Jackie Collins novel? Or heaven forbid - my mother? Would transvestite's look at me and want me to join their new dance troupe or would the kids and hubby roll their eyes and laugh at me? A million thoughts ran through my head. So with great trepidation I put it on - and pulled it off - no not off my head but really pulled it off - it looked great. Hubby told me I looked lovely. The kids told me they liked it - heaven forbid!
So I got dressed and went to work wearing it. No one saw the hot flushes and the frantic tucking behind the ears whilst swearing as I tried to get used to it. In fact I sauntered round Tescos afterwards and was suprised that no one laughed at me.
Now I've put on weight recently - I blame the steroids and not the fact that I cannot stop bloody eating and do you know what a long wavy wig along with a large handbag definitely makes you look thinner. Don't ask me how, it just does.
On Thursday I sashayed into Chemo wearing it. Caroline one of the other ladies who also has chemo the same days as I couldn't figure out what was different about me. The nurses thought it was fabulous. Apparently they love Andrew and myself coming into the ward, they guess what colour outfit I going to be wearing, how high my shoes are going to be and what wig I'm going to be modelling that week. The words I hear often are " We love it when our Wendie comes in she always looks so glamorous" this makes me feel fantastic. Admittedly we did get put in the naughty corner last week for giggling Andrew and I.
We laugh all through my treatment, we giggle with the nurses and we smile at all the patients. Don't get me wrong I hate chemo, but I look forward to seeing the lovely nurses, tea ladies and everyone else that makes the chemo unit so bloody wonderful. These beautiful people are allowing me to stay alive. So I'm doing it in style.
On Friday we took the kids bowling. I had so much energy that I was dancing and moon walking in the lane - much to my son's disgust. The more he ask me to stop the more I wiggled and jiggled. Don't get me wrong I am not an exhibitionist, I just felt so happy to be alive and out and about with my family having a good time. We laughed and jumped up and down every time one of us scored cheered each other on when we were rubbish and generally had a great time. Its one of those days I will cherish - it doesn't happen very often now being the fact that they are both teenagers. I did at one point run into the ladies and have a bit of a grizzle with happiness, sad I know but wow, what a great day.
Saturday afternoon I met up with some friends had a fantastic lunch and a gossip, I was suppose to go out again in the evening but I was done for. So hubby and I had a great dinner at home and put our feet up. Then just to finish off a great week Sunday for Mothers day was the perfect ending. No wonder I'm putting on weight!
I have to say that lucky stars are well and truly thanked. My life is fab!
Wednesday, 27 February 2013
Goals, dreams and the what the future holds
When I look back, my life has changed in spades over the last couple of years since Andrew asked me to marry him. There has been some really fantastic times and - to be fair - really bad times money wise, health wise etc. Sometimes I feel that I want to stop the world and get off, life goes by quickly - which is a great when times are bad, but sometimes I just want to be........
I just want to sit in the sun and smile and say life is fantastic. Don't get me wrong, I thank my lucky stars every day that I have the most fantastic family and friends. My husband is wonderful and my children are too. We've got a roof over our heads and we are fed and warm. All the things that we take for granted - and we all do it.
It'll be nice to win the lottery, I dream of what I would do if I won it. just like everyone else. Andrew and I argue over what we would spend the money on, we imagine what it would be like to be worry and debt free, however in the grand scheme of things the chances of that happening are slim. I mean would that make us any happier? Yes for a while. Then we would probably have something else to worry about.
Someone once told me that I should stop wanting things and just be grateful for what I have. I took this on board and then I thought to be fair if we didn't want things - or want to achieve things, that's when our life stands still. Hopes, dreams, and goals are what keep us going. If we don't have a dream, how we gonna make a dream come true........... says the song - and its true. How many of us write down what we want to do in the future? How many of us write down our goals? Our dreams? Our ambitions? Well I do, I re-evaluate my life every 3 to 4 months, I have long term goals and short term goals. My short term goals have always been achievable, the goal posts may have changed but I always get there in the end. I plan how I'm going to get there. I work hard at making it happen. It never goes the way I plan it but it always works out well in the end.
Take for instance, wanting a new car. I was suppose to achieve that by September last year, but stuff got in the way, we had to pay out for other bits and pieces and the money we saved towards the car went on birthday and Christmas presents. So money wise we had a good Christmas because of the money we saved, whereas the Christmas beforehand we were so skint that we had sleepless nights thinking how we were going to make it happen - in the end we did, but we were miserable.
I know someone will tell me its not about the presents and the giving and receiving but I love to give presents, the look on peoples faces is priceless to me. However this year we had the money, but I had cancer and had a breast removed just before it. Somehow Christmas was achieved in between morphine and pain, down to my good organisation skills and my good management of money . The car came in January. So the goal posts were moved quite considerably but I got there in the end.
So no its not about the money, of course we need it, just as we need our hopes and dreams. The goal posts may get moved and you may have to swap one dream for another dream, but normally that dream when it comes true is nearly always better than the orginal dream. The satisfaction of achieving things in life has always kept me going.
So how am I tackling the cancer thing......well most of the time I feel pants, I could play the victim and give in, or I could just get on with my life, and on the days when I feel really grim, I just wear extra make up, and an extra big smile. Don't get me wrong I'm not saying that's what everyone should do - its just the only way I know how. Then friends say to me - "you don't have to put a brave face on with me - I know you remember". Then I have a little pity party. Maybe a little cry, a feel sorry for myself moment. Then reality strikes and I know that I am one of the lucky ones. I will survive ( another song there) I will be cured and my life will go back to normal. There is a big light at the end of my tunnel and it glows extremely bright. So what if I've lost my boob, I've got a new one, at some they will both match with a new nipple and everything. When I'm 80 they'll still be pert and not hanging down by my knees. See free boob job on the NHS!
So what if I've lost my hair, every day I get to look like someone different. I am now matching my wigs in with my outfits. Today I am rock chick! Tomorrow I might have a 50's vibe, who knows.
I don't have to shave, I have learnt that every day I can change my eyebrows to match my hair, make up and I look good. I don't look like the victim. People don't stare at me and say " Bless her shes got cancer" So I'm not going to play the victim.
Cancer has not got in the way of my hopes, dreams and ambitions. It's moved the goal posts and time limits, but I am still achieving great things. I am still moving on with my life and if cancer stops me from doing what I want to do - well I just work my way round it.
Tomorrow is a Chemo day - yes I hate it, yes it makes me feel ill, but every session I have brings me closer to my next goal. Tomorrow I'll be half way through. I go onto another type of chemo next time which will bring another set of symptom's. My doctor today told me that the reason I am having such a high dose is because she knows its the best course of action for me. She knows its tough, she pulled no punches and told me that I will feel even worst this time. .... but I know that, I've just got to grit my teeth and get on with it.
So here's to a great future whatever it may bring.
I just want to sit in the sun and smile and say life is fantastic. Don't get me wrong, I thank my lucky stars every day that I have the most fantastic family and friends. My husband is wonderful and my children are too. We've got a roof over our heads and we are fed and warm. All the things that we take for granted - and we all do it.
It'll be nice to win the lottery, I dream of what I would do if I won it. just like everyone else. Andrew and I argue over what we would spend the money on, we imagine what it would be like to be worry and debt free, however in the grand scheme of things the chances of that happening are slim. I mean would that make us any happier? Yes for a while. Then we would probably have something else to worry about.
Someone once told me that I should stop wanting things and just be grateful for what I have. I took this on board and then I thought to be fair if we didn't want things - or want to achieve things, that's when our life stands still. Hopes, dreams, and goals are what keep us going. If we don't have a dream, how we gonna make a dream come true........... says the song - and its true. How many of us write down what we want to do in the future? How many of us write down our goals? Our dreams? Our ambitions? Well I do, I re-evaluate my life every 3 to 4 months, I have long term goals and short term goals. My short term goals have always been achievable, the goal posts may have changed but I always get there in the end. I plan how I'm going to get there. I work hard at making it happen. It never goes the way I plan it but it always works out well in the end.
Take for instance, wanting a new car. I was suppose to achieve that by September last year, but stuff got in the way, we had to pay out for other bits and pieces and the money we saved towards the car went on birthday and Christmas presents. So money wise we had a good Christmas because of the money we saved, whereas the Christmas beforehand we were so skint that we had sleepless nights thinking how we were going to make it happen - in the end we did, but we were miserable.
I know someone will tell me its not about the presents and the giving and receiving but I love to give presents, the look on peoples faces is priceless to me. However this year we had the money, but I had cancer and had a breast removed just before it. Somehow Christmas was achieved in between morphine and pain, down to my good organisation skills and my good management of money . The car came in January. So the goal posts were moved quite considerably but I got there in the end.
So no its not about the money, of course we need it, just as we need our hopes and dreams. The goal posts may get moved and you may have to swap one dream for another dream, but normally that dream when it comes true is nearly always better than the orginal dream. The satisfaction of achieving things in life has always kept me going.
So how am I tackling the cancer thing......well most of the time I feel pants, I could play the victim and give in, or I could just get on with my life, and on the days when I feel really grim, I just wear extra make up, and an extra big smile. Don't get me wrong I'm not saying that's what everyone should do - its just the only way I know how. Then friends say to me - "you don't have to put a brave face on with me - I know you remember". Then I have a little pity party. Maybe a little cry, a feel sorry for myself moment. Then reality strikes and I know that I am one of the lucky ones. I will survive ( another song there) I will be cured and my life will go back to normal. There is a big light at the end of my tunnel and it glows extremely bright. So what if I've lost my boob, I've got a new one, at some they will both match with a new nipple and everything. When I'm 80 they'll still be pert and not hanging down by my knees. See free boob job on the NHS!
So what if I've lost my hair, every day I get to look like someone different. I am now matching my wigs in with my outfits. Today I am rock chick! Tomorrow I might have a 50's vibe, who knows.
I don't have to shave, I have learnt that every day I can change my eyebrows to match my hair, make up and I look good. I don't look like the victim. People don't stare at me and say " Bless her shes got cancer" So I'm not going to play the victim.
Cancer has not got in the way of my hopes, dreams and ambitions. It's moved the goal posts and time limits, but I am still achieving great things. I am still moving on with my life and if cancer stops me from doing what I want to do - well I just work my way round it.
Tomorrow is a Chemo day - yes I hate it, yes it makes me feel ill, but every session I have brings me closer to my next goal. Tomorrow I'll be half way through. I go onto another type of chemo next time which will bring another set of symptom's. My doctor today told me that the reason I am having such a high dose is because she knows its the best course of action for me. She knows its tough, she pulled no punches and told me that I will feel even worst this time. .... but I know that, I've just got to grit my teeth and get on with it.
So here's to a great future whatever it may bring.
Sunday, 17 February 2013
Wig on Wig off?
I've not written a new blog for a while. No excuse really I just didn't feel up to it. The day after writing the last blog. I asked Andrew to shave all my hair off. It was a very private moment between a husband and his wife. No one was present and we didn't make a big song and dance about it. I told him the time had come. It took about 5 Min's, as there wasn't much left. Afterwards I looked in the mirror, burst into tears and he held me for a while and let me cry.
Later on I showed each child in turn. Kate was fine, but Conor was very upset at first. They've gotten used to it a bit more now - thank god.
Now that I have figured out how to wear a wig so it doesn't fall off, ( I cringe as I remember the second day I wore one and went to get the dustbin in, it was really windy and as it wasn't properly secured the wind took it, thank god no one saw) I am finding it hard wearing one all day, apart from being constantly worried that it looks like a wig and that people are staring, they don't go well with hot flushes, I want to fling it off as soon as one starts which usually happen at the most impromtu moments. I also find them itchy and I have formed a bad habit of scratching underneath them. I could be walking round the shops or in a restaurant and if anyone looks over at the wrong time - well lets just say, I need to remind myself to stop fiddling.
For instance on Thursday I went to the chemo suite to have my line flush, and a blood clotting agent put in. I still feel uneasy about going out on my own, so as my daughter was on a day off from college she came with me. In the car on the way home she told me off, " Mum stop pulling at your your wig and scratching people can see you" sure enough a man and his wife in the car next to me were staring in wonderment. I smiled and stopped.
When I'm at home, I either wear a chemo hat, I have one in red and one in green, believe me they are not flattering, or a hat of some sort. Scarves I can't seem to get on with, but it's not unusual for me to be wearing a wig one minute, a scarf the next, then a hat the next, then back on with the wig.
As I now have three wigs I can pick and choose, so now I have adjusted them so they actually fit on my head properly and had them all cut so they sit better. I feel happier that they're not as Andrew puts it ...... so syrupified. Although I am convinced that people are still looking at me I have been brave and gone out on my own a few times. So I'll get there.
I've also spent a small fortune in hair accessories. Its just not me to plonk one on my head and that's it. No I've managed a low ponytail, backcombing, clippings, slides etc. Anything to make it look like its me in the mirror. I am getting used to drawing in eyebrows, mascaraing diminished eyelashes - and actually I don't look too bad!
After chemo this time I have to say I felt terrible. For the first couple of days I felt okay, then as the days went on it got worse. Having to inject my stomach and take all the tablets was a real chore. I just didn't realise how sick and low I would feel. On pancake day in between tossing pancakes I felt so ill that I had to keep putting my head on the kitchen counter then step out into the cold just to keep me upright. On Wednesday I worked all day at the computer and just had to work my way through the sickness. Valentine's day I was running up and down the stairs to the toilet in between courses. Knocking back indigestion tablets in between mouthfuls of food. Friday my friends birthday I couldn't face food but knew I had to eat something otherwise the sick feeling would set in again. I took ages to select my food, then when it came I picked at it before announcing I had to go home.
Sitting in my pyjamas with a hat and my hood up on my dressing gown had become my favourite outfit.
Then yesterday morning I got up to spend a much needed weekend away with my husband and amazingly I didn't feel too bad. Not 100% but hey we can't have everything can we? I had booked a pre birthday/post valentine weekend away for him and me. Do you know what we had a brilliant time. We had a good drink, a fantastic meal and a wonderful 4 poster bed.
I managed to look okay in my wig and hoped no one noticed that that's exactly what it was. In the evening when we went out for dinner, I had bought a new dress that hid my PICC line. Wore a long wig and my husband stepped out of the shower and said " wow" I thought ' Wendie you've still got it'.
Later that night - and not wanting to go into too much detail, I had a case of - wig on, wig off?
I mean what has everyone else done in this situation? You know - your about to have an intimate time and do you keep the wig on and hope in all the tousling its doesn't fall off, or fall over your eyes? Or do you take your wig off and hope your partner still fancies you? Do you wear a hat that's a bit sparkly - to show you made the effort. One that matches your underwear? I mean what? We discussed it for ages, hubby told me it didn't matter to him either way he loved me. I tighten the wig and prayed it would hold on. Then I thought about it some more, I mean what if I had a hot flush in the middle of it, the wig would have to come off then? In between the fact that we have to be careful of everything on my right side especially my new boob and my PICC line on my left arm. Here we were with another spanner in the works.
So in between the latest dilimmas I'm feel much better and things are on the up. Yes I know my next chemo will be soon and I will feel terrible again, but you know at the moment I'm feeling good and I'll take that and make the most of it.
.
Later on I showed each child in turn. Kate was fine, but Conor was very upset at first. They've gotten used to it a bit more now - thank god.
Now that I have figured out how to wear a wig so it doesn't fall off, ( I cringe as I remember the second day I wore one and went to get the dustbin in, it was really windy and as it wasn't properly secured the wind took it, thank god no one saw) I am finding it hard wearing one all day, apart from being constantly worried that it looks like a wig and that people are staring, they don't go well with hot flushes, I want to fling it off as soon as one starts which usually happen at the most impromtu moments. I also find them itchy and I have formed a bad habit of scratching underneath them. I could be walking round the shops or in a restaurant and if anyone looks over at the wrong time - well lets just say, I need to remind myself to stop fiddling.
For instance on Thursday I went to the chemo suite to have my line flush, and a blood clotting agent put in. I still feel uneasy about going out on my own, so as my daughter was on a day off from college she came with me. In the car on the way home she told me off, " Mum stop pulling at your your wig and scratching people can see you" sure enough a man and his wife in the car next to me were staring in wonderment. I smiled and stopped.
When I'm at home, I either wear a chemo hat, I have one in red and one in green, believe me they are not flattering, or a hat of some sort. Scarves I can't seem to get on with, but it's not unusual for me to be wearing a wig one minute, a scarf the next, then a hat the next, then back on with the wig.
As I now have three wigs I can pick and choose, so now I have adjusted them so they actually fit on my head properly and had them all cut so they sit better. I feel happier that they're not as Andrew puts it ...... so syrupified. Although I am convinced that people are still looking at me I have been brave and gone out on my own a few times. So I'll get there.
I've also spent a small fortune in hair accessories. Its just not me to plonk one on my head and that's it. No I've managed a low ponytail, backcombing, clippings, slides etc. Anything to make it look like its me in the mirror. I am getting used to drawing in eyebrows, mascaraing diminished eyelashes - and actually I don't look too bad!
After chemo this time I have to say I felt terrible. For the first couple of days I felt okay, then as the days went on it got worse. Having to inject my stomach and take all the tablets was a real chore. I just didn't realise how sick and low I would feel. On pancake day in between tossing pancakes I felt so ill that I had to keep putting my head on the kitchen counter then step out into the cold just to keep me upright. On Wednesday I worked all day at the computer and just had to work my way through the sickness. Valentine's day I was running up and down the stairs to the toilet in between courses. Knocking back indigestion tablets in between mouthfuls of food. Friday my friends birthday I couldn't face food but knew I had to eat something otherwise the sick feeling would set in again. I took ages to select my food, then when it came I picked at it before announcing I had to go home.
Sitting in my pyjamas with a hat and my hood up on my dressing gown had become my favourite outfit.
Then yesterday morning I got up to spend a much needed weekend away with my husband and amazingly I didn't feel too bad. Not 100% but hey we can't have everything can we? I had booked a pre birthday/post valentine weekend away for him and me. Do you know what we had a brilliant time. We had a good drink, a fantastic meal and a wonderful 4 poster bed.
I managed to look okay in my wig and hoped no one noticed that that's exactly what it was. In the evening when we went out for dinner, I had bought a new dress that hid my PICC line. Wore a long wig and my husband stepped out of the shower and said " wow" I thought ' Wendie you've still got it'.
Later that night - and not wanting to go into too much detail, I had a case of - wig on, wig off?
I mean what has everyone else done in this situation? You know - your about to have an intimate time and do you keep the wig on and hope in all the tousling its doesn't fall off, or fall over your eyes? Or do you take your wig off and hope your partner still fancies you? Do you wear a hat that's a bit sparkly - to show you made the effort. One that matches your underwear? I mean what? We discussed it for ages, hubby told me it didn't matter to him either way he loved me. I tighten the wig and prayed it would hold on. Then I thought about it some more, I mean what if I had a hot flush in the middle of it, the wig would have to come off then? In between the fact that we have to be careful of everything on my right side especially my new boob and my PICC line on my left arm. Here we were with another spanner in the works.
So in between the latest dilimmas I'm feel much better and things are on the up. Yes I know my next chemo will be soon and I will feel terrible again, but you know at the moment I'm feeling good and I'll take that and make the most of it.
.
Monday, 4 February 2013
Hair hair everywhere
Last Wednesday I sat in the Primrose unit having my line flushed through and was amazed that I was the only one who still had a full head of hair. I actually wrote about it on Face book as I was in utter amazement that I hadn't lost any of it. Also - although at first I felt confused, I haven't had to shave my legs in nearly two weeks. Don't get me wrong this is great and I'm getting used to the fact that I've hardly any hair left on my arms or anywhere else for that matter. However, to my horror my eyelashes are already falling out but I have managed to find a great mascara which takes care of what I have got left and even though I've spent a small fortune finding the correct eyebrow kit, including, powders, pencils and stencils, my eyebrows are looking amazing. ( thanks to the girl on the Benefit counter)
My sleep patterns are all over the place I get up on numerous occasions throughout the night to check in the bathroom mirror to see if my hair is falling out. It got so frequent that when I was in the Primrose unit that day I spoke to the nurse about it in a slightly obsessive way, she told me I needed to sleep and that maybe I would find some peace if I just shaved it all off. I realised she had a point - I really did, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.
I couldn't and still can't walk pass a mirror without looking in it, I was running my hands through my hair to see if any of it came out. I even got to the stage where I had to ask my husband to wash it as I couldn't bear to wash it myself. I was convinced that it was all over the bedroom carpet I was obsessing about it constantly and often broke down in tears.
In the meantime I spoke to a good friend of mine who told me that when she had her brain tumour - when we were teenagers, she'd convinced herself that her hair wasn't going to fall out. She continued to tell me that she was in denial and of course eventually it did fall out. It was over 20 years ago and I remember her NHS wig - how times have changed. I myself told the nurse that maybe mine wouldn't fall out. She nodded her head and told me that in a few cases it didn't. Although she didn't look convinced.
Then on Wednesday afternoon it happened, that very same day. The first lot of hair decided to come out. Not what I imagined. It came out in my hands as I touched it. Thursday I got up and I was too scared to brush it. Taking the plunge I did so and handfuls came out on the brush. In between tears I tried numerous hair pieces. I wasn't ready to wear a wig. Buns, ponytails, fringes. Luckily I have a few. On the Friday for my sister's birthday dinner, even though I wore a bun I was mortified that hair was falling out into people's food.
Saturday during the day I took the kids shopping. I didn't wear anything, but just put it up in a normal ponytail and clipped the fringe back. it still looked okay but I knew my days of wearing it down were over. Then that night before we went to dinner at friends, I washed it, and so much came out that the thickness of my ponytail decreased and it looked like a rats tail. I asked my husband to call our friends and tell them we were going to be late. In the meantime I'd filled the wastepaper bin with my hair and in between tears I managed to get a hair piece to stay in and hair sprayed every hair I could down. One of the guy's picked us up and as I came down the stairs he pointed to my head and said " Its not what's here" then pointed to my heart " It's whats in here Wendie" I held back the tears and went to dinner with our lovely understanding friends.
Yesterday I wore a wig for the first time, but it took ages for me to get out of the door, as I wasn't happy that it looked okay.Yet funny enough no one noticed not even my daughter. However that's because I can still pin my fringe over the front of it. So it doesn't seem that final. I do need to get myself into a routine of speeding up my hair and makeup - because it takes ages to apply everything. I don't want people to look at me and know I've got cancer. I want to look normal. So far I think I'm managing it.
Today I am rearranging bits, I've changed my fringe over as I had a thinning spot in the front on one side. As I put my hair up I have thinning bits at the back in my hairline, but I figure no one can see me at home. I've just clipped a small bun in and rearranged and sprayed down the back. Clip in pieces are becoming increasing hard to wear as there is nothing much to clip them too now.
Yes I know that I should shave it off - but I am not ready, all the time I can cover it up I will. Using my own fringe makes me feel like I am just experimenting with different hair styles, however I am sure that will too be gone in the next day or so.
I cry most days and then tell myself off. I lay awake at night wondering what I can get away with the next day. I get up in the morning and give it a good brush, almost punishingly. Trying to see how much will come out. I have kept the wastepaper bin with all my hair in it in the bedroom. I cannot bear to throw it out. I hoovered the carpet again today, as it really does get covered. I know that I am fighting a hopeless cause, but I figure that all the time I have some hair - albeit around 50 to 60% has gone and its like a ball of fluff on my head - I can experiment. To look in the mirror and see someone who is completely bald feels me with dread. The thought of walking into a shop and someone knowing I am wearing a wig and getting a sympathetic look feels me with dread. Someone sniggering that my hair isn't real - yes I know I need to get a grip.
On Saturday night I did manged to have a laugh about it with my friends, albeit they would never have brought the subject up first. Andrew was proud of me joking about my hair loss, as I seem to have had a sense of humour transplant lately and have become withdrawn, however looking in the mirror everyday or seeing your hair all over your pillow isn't much to laugh about. At some point I will have to wear the wigs full time. Before my next Chemo session on Thursday I am picking up another wig at the hospital. I hope it looks good. Then I will have 3, I hope the only reason I cannot get out of the door on time in the future will not be because I am in tears because bits are falling off me, but because I just can't figure out what wig matches my outfit that day!
My sleep patterns are all over the place I get up on numerous occasions throughout the night to check in the bathroom mirror to see if my hair is falling out. It got so frequent that when I was in the Primrose unit that day I spoke to the nurse about it in a slightly obsessive way, she told me I needed to sleep and that maybe I would find some peace if I just shaved it all off. I realised she had a point - I really did, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.
I couldn't and still can't walk pass a mirror without looking in it, I was running my hands through my hair to see if any of it came out. I even got to the stage where I had to ask my husband to wash it as I couldn't bear to wash it myself. I was convinced that it was all over the bedroom carpet I was obsessing about it constantly and often broke down in tears.
In the meantime I spoke to a good friend of mine who told me that when she had her brain tumour - when we were teenagers, she'd convinced herself that her hair wasn't going to fall out. She continued to tell me that she was in denial and of course eventually it did fall out. It was over 20 years ago and I remember her NHS wig - how times have changed. I myself told the nurse that maybe mine wouldn't fall out. She nodded her head and told me that in a few cases it didn't. Although she didn't look convinced.
Then on Wednesday afternoon it happened, that very same day. The first lot of hair decided to come out. Not what I imagined. It came out in my hands as I touched it. Thursday I got up and I was too scared to brush it. Taking the plunge I did so and handfuls came out on the brush. In between tears I tried numerous hair pieces. I wasn't ready to wear a wig. Buns, ponytails, fringes. Luckily I have a few. On the Friday for my sister's birthday dinner, even though I wore a bun I was mortified that hair was falling out into people's food.
Saturday during the day I took the kids shopping. I didn't wear anything, but just put it up in a normal ponytail and clipped the fringe back. it still looked okay but I knew my days of wearing it down were over. Then that night before we went to dinner at friends, I washed it, and so much came out that the thickness of my ponytail decreased and it looked like a rats tail. I asked my husband to call our friends and tell them we were going to be late. In the meantime I'd filled the wastepaper bin with my hair and in between tears I managed to get a hair piece to stay in and hair sprayed every hair I could down. One of the guy's picked us up and as I came down the stairs he pointed to my head and said " Its not what's here" then pointed to my heart " It's whats in here Wendie" I held back the tears and went to dinner with our lovely understanding friends.
Yesterday I wore a wig for the first time, but it took ages for me to get out of the door, as I wasn't happy that it looked okay.Yet funny enough no one noticed not even my daughter. However that's because I can still pin my fringe over the front of it. So it doesn't seem that final. I do need to get myself into a routine of speeding up my hair and makeup - because it takes ages to apply everything. I don't want people to look at me and know I've got cancer. I want to look normal. So far I think I'm managing it.
Today I am rearranging bits, I've changed my fringe over as I had a thinning spot in the front on one side. As I put my hair up I have thinning bits at the back in my hairline, but I figure no one can see me at home. I've just clipped a small bun in and rearranged and sprayed down the back. Clip in pieces are becoming increasing hard to wear as there is nothing much to clip them too now.
Yes I know that I should shave it off - but I am not ready, all the time I can cover it up I will. Using my own fringe makes me feel like I am just experimenting with different hair styles, however I am sure that will too be gone in the next day or so.
I cry most days and then tell myself off. I lay awake at night wondering what I can get away with the next day. I get up in the morning and give it a good brush, almost punishingly. Trying to see how much will come out. I have kept the wastepaper bin with all my hair in it in the bedroom. I cannot bear to throw it out. I hoovered the carpet again today, as it really does get covered. I know that I am fighting a hopeless cause, but I figure that all the time I have some hair - albeit around 50 to 60% has gone and its like a ball of fluff on my head - I can experiment. To look in the mirror and see someone who is completely bald feels me with dread. The thought of walking into a shop and someone knowing I am wearing a wig and getting a sympathetic look feels me with dread. Someone sniggering that my hair isn't real - yes I know I need to get a grip.
On Saturday night I did manged to have a laugh about it with my friends, albeit they would never have brought the subject up first. Andrew was proud of me joking about my hair loss, as I seem to have had a sense of humour transplant lately and have become withdrawn, however looking in the mirror everyday or seeing your hair all over your pillow isn't much to laugh about. At some point I will have to wear the wigs full time. Before my next Chemo session on Thursday I am picking up another wig at the hospital. I hope it looks good. Then I will have 3, I hope the only reason I cannot get out of the door on time in the future will not be because I am in tears because bits are falling off me, but because I just can't figure out what wig matches my outfit that day!
Saturday, 26 January 2013
A smack of realism - and a dose of tears.
The last week or so has been up and down in so many ways. The weekend was full of friends and laughter but I was so tired I could hardly keep my eyes open. However I muddled through and cooked dinner for 7 of us on Sunday. On Sunday night I ached so much and my PICC line was giving me problems, I kept taking my temperature - as instructed, and hoped it wouldn't go over 37.5. (Apparently that's when I have to go straight to AAU) In the end after Hubby nagging I phoned the Primrose unit and was told to go in. If you remember the snow outside was thick and continuous. I weighed up the odds, and against better judgement decided that I would go to bed, take some pain killers and take my temperature every 4 hours. Next morning the hospital rang and told me I had to go in. I made light of it to Hubby who whizzed me in straight to the Primrose unit. My lovely Chemo nurse Helen, took one look at my arm cleaned me up, flushed it through and took some blood - just in case. She then told us we would have to wait an hour for the results - and if positive which she very much doubted I would have to have a scan for Deep Vein Thrombosis this was at 10.30. After a hour the result wasn't in so we waited another 20 minutes before deciding that we would go home as we were sure the result would be fine. Thirty minutes later we were on our way back to the hospital where Andrew dropped me off as the result was positive. I was asked to make my way to the day ward as a scan had been arranged to check where the clot was in my line. At 5.40 after being told that a scan could not been arranged for that day I was given some Tinzaparin ( blood clotting injections that had to be self administered into my stomach) and discharged. Andrew picked me back up and on the way home I began to cry and this continued for a couple of hours. I cried on the kids, I cried on the cat, I cried whilst cooking dinner and I cried through eating it. In fact I cried so much I had forgotten what I started crying about in the first place. I couldn't pull myself together, I felt rubbish and if anyone else pulled me about, stabbed me with a needle, or put me through any more pain. I was going to tell them - rather unpleasantly - to leave me alone. I ached all over, my throat was sore and I was angry, and I couldn't pull myself together. Then on Tuesday I couldn't even be bothered to get out of the bed or answer the phone. Friends text me to see if I was okay, I couldn't be bothered to get off the sofa and reply. In the end after a morning of feeling sorry for myself I managed to get myself in the bath - obviously with my arm wrapped in cling film. Get dressed and do a few things around the house. Kicking myself up the backside was such a major issue, as I just had no energy, ached all over and couldn't even be bothered to eat. Then that afternoon a call came through to say that my CT scan for my chest and abdominal, and my bone and vital organ scan results had come back. They were all normal, the cancer hadn't spread, in fact as I write this - Drum roll please - I am cancer free. This time I didn't cry alone hubby cried with me, with relief, with happiness and with the belief that we had a future together and that future was beautiful and bright.
Yet that night when hubby lined all my tablets up and told me I had to inject myself again with the Tinzaparin, I began to cry again. I had bruises on my stomach from the one I had administered the night before and it really hurt. I'd turned into a small child and begged Andrew to do it quick and not hurt me. My God what had become of me!
That night in bed I had to change my pyjamas twice as I woke up soaking wet from sweat. However, the next morning, I got up and felt more normal. I took myself back to the hospital and had a ultrasound scan for the DVT. Now not wanting to sound like a miserable old cow, even the prod of the scanner hurt as the radiologist scanned the PICC line, my armpit, and above my heart. He then proceeded to do my right ride, as you know this is the side that I had the mastectomy on. So prodding and poking under my arm made me cry - again. The nurse that was cleaning the gel off my body, helped me off the bed and gave me a cuddle. She sent me to the day ward again, where I spoke to a very nice Doctor, who cheered me up immensely - I was okay, there was no DVT the results were good. I just needed to get my dressing changed again and more importantly I didn't need to administer any more of the Tinzaparin.
Back at the Primrose ward one of the nurses changed my dressing and another nurse came up and asked me how I was getting on, I told her about the tears and how pants I felt in general, how I had tried to stay strong and couldn't. They both laughed and told me it was perfectly normal and not to be so hard on myself as I had been through a long process.
The nurse that was changing my dressing, knelt down and congratulated me on coping so well!!! I then learnt that she had been diagnosed as terminal with some little known condition. I asked her to tell me all about it. She confessed that she had not spoken to anyone regardless of the fact that she was diagnosed two weeks previous. She was 36 years old, had two children aged 6 and 8 and was a single parent. We talked for a while and I was quite frank. I told her about Andrew's Dad and how he had come through 2 lots of different cancer in one year, I then told her about Andrew's uncle who was given 12 months to live 6 months ago, yet in the middle of his chemo his doctor was telling him that he could now book his holiday for next year. Most of all I told her about hope. How so much was being done these days to prolong peoples lives. How she needed to talk to people become armed with all the facts and results then decide what she wanted to do. Lastly I told her how she needed to give herself a pat on the back for coping so well.
Later that morning I left the Primrose unit with fresh lipstick applied and a different mind set - with not a tear in sight and I haven't cried since. That afternoon I kept an appointment at a venue ( that I nearly cancelled) to be told I had won a contract to head up all their Wedding Fayres . Even though I still didn't feel 100% the next day I went back to work.
Since Wednesday, I have felt good, as a bonus I haven't had to shave my legs or my armpits, as no more hair is growing and even though my eyebrows and eyelashes are beginning to thin already, I remain positive. Next week when it is my sister's 50th birthday party I will probably have to wear one of my wigs - but that' s next week. This week I survived. There is nothing like a great big dose of realism smacking you in the face to make you put your lipstick on, put your shoulders back and get right back on with living.
Yet that night when hubby lined all my tablets up and told me I had to inject myself again with the Tinzaparin, I began to cry again. I had bruises on my stomach from the one I had administered the night before and it really hurt. I'd turned into a small child and begged Andrew to do it quick and not hurt me. My God what had become of me!
That night in bed I had to change my pyjamas twice as I woke up soaking wet from sweat. However, the next morning, I got up and felt more normal. I took myself back to the hospital and had a ultrasound scan for the DVT. Now not wanting to sound like a miserable old cow, even the prod of the scanner hurt as the radiologist scanned the PICC line, my armpit, and above my heart. He then proceeded to do my right ride, as you know this is the side that I had the mastectomy on. So prodding and poking under my arm made me cry - again. The nurse that was cleaning the gel off my body, helped me off the bed and gave me a cuddle. She sent me to the day ward again, where I spoke to a very nice Doctor, who cheered me up immensely - I was okay, there was no DVT the results were good. I just needed to get my dressing changed again and more importantly I didn't need to administer any more of the Tinzaparin.
Back at the Primrose ward one of the nurses changed my dressing and another nurse came up and asked me how I was getting on, I told her about the tears and how pants I felt in general, how I had tried to stay strong and couldn't. They both laughed and told me it was perfectly normal and not to be so hard on myself as I had been through a long process.
The nurse that was changing my dressing, knelt down and congratulated me on coping so well!!! I then learnt that she had been diagnosed as terminal with some little known condition. I asked her to tell me all about it. She confessed that she had not spoken to anyone regardless of the fact that she was diagnosed two weeks previous. She was 36 years old, had two children aged 6 and 8 and was a single parent. We talked for a while and I was quite frank. I told her about Andrew's Dad and how he had come through 2 lots of different cancer in one year, I then told her about Andrew's uncle who was given 12 months to live 6 months ago, yet in the middle of his chemo his doctor was telling him that he could now book his holiday for next year. Most of all I told her about hope. How so much was being done these days to prolong peoples lives. How she needed to talk to people become armed with all the facts and results then decide what she wanted to do. Lastly I told her how she needed to give herself a pat on the back for coping so well.
Later that morning I left the Primrose unit with fresh lipstick applied and a different mind set - with not a tear in sight and I haven't cried since. That afternoon I kept an appointment at a venue ( that I nearly cancelled) to be told I had won a contract to head up all their Wedding Fayres . Even though I still didn't feel 100% the next day I went back to work.
Since Wednesday, I have felt good, as a bonus I haven't had to shave my legs or my armpits, as no more hair is growing and even though my eyebrows and eyelashes are beginning to thin already, I remain positive. Next week when it is my sister's 50th birthday party I will probably have to wear one of my wigs - but that' s next week. This week I survived. There is nothing like a great big dose of realism smacking you in the face to make you put your lipstick on, put your shoulders back and get right back on with living.
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