….or what?
A difficult one to decide. I think I’ll opt for the celebration simply because any excuse for a party seems good to me! So why a celebration? Believe it or not it’s a year ago since I was diagnosed with secondary breast cancer. A year which has flown past and seen a huge change in “normal” life for all in the Bad Fairy family. According to some a year which I was unlikely to see through ……as if I’m going to accept that, some people just don’t know me at all!! Like it or not here I am a whole year on and for those who are wondering I don’t intend to be painting any rainbows for a few more years yet! (And yes Mum, when I do eventually paint the rainbows I’ll remember to wear knickers!!)
Who knows what surprises the next year will hold?
Not me that’s for sure. Crystal balls and Bad Fairies don’t mix well …in fact anything breakable and Bad Fairies don’t really mix very well if I’m honest! I do know what’s planned for next week though. If my mouth has returned to normal then I will probably have another (smaller!) dose of Taxotere, preferably out of the bottle which says “No hospital admissions”. The reasoning behind this is that despite the last dose being so hideous it has stabilised my liver function. Difficult decision! If, for whatever reason, the Taxotere is a no go then next out of the box of tricks is likely to be Capecitabine. We’ll just have to wait and see how things go.
In the mean time there’s a party to organise …… sausage on a stick anyone?
Wednesday 30 June 2010
Thursday 24 June 2010
A fortnight of.....
……fun and frolics!
OK, who forgot to pack the fun and frolics? I can do the odd funless day with no frolics but not two weeks worth thank you very much!
It all started (surprisingly enough) about two weeks ago. After a chat with Dr Socks we all agreed that the Red Devils needed to be sacked as they appear to have done what little good they are capable of. Next question, what to replace them with. The pin the tail on the donkey game came down with the tail pinned in Taxotere, again as a weekly chemo, possibly for ten weeks but we’d see how we go.
That same day (Dr Socks doesn’t hang around…..must’ve had “go faster" stripes on the socks that week!), I had my first dose of Taxotere. Seemed ok, no reactions, all good stuff.
Fast forward to that weekend and my mouth is revolting. Oral thrush, ulcers and tasting like the bottom of a monkey’s cage. Mr Bad Fairy says I can’t say that …I should say bird cage but I think monkey’s cage is far more descriptive!! Monday sees me sulking (in between sleeping) in hospital. Dehydrated, neutropenic and in need of five days of IV antibiotics. Big Hrmph! The worst part? Not the fact that I couldn’t eat or drink, no, the fact I couldn’t speak. A silent and huffy Bad Fairy is not a Bad Fairy you’d want to spend much time with!
Luckily for me, a few were brave enough to visit. Mr Bad Fairy did a brilliant job of managing to hold a conversation with me without me feeling like I wasn’t getting a word in, he knows how much that would have annoyed me! Fairy Godmother made a surprise visit too. She really shouldn’t have, not because it wasn’t lovely to see her but because she has so much stress and worry to deal with of her own at the moment. And the wayward purple Pippa called in on numerous occasions, raising a smile each and every time.
By Friday things were improving slowly. Still couldn’t eat but at least I could manage to sip drinks which saved being constantly pumped full of liquids! Also a squeak of a voice had returned. Dr Socks braved a visit. I think he’d been waiting until I could at least mutter again ….not entirely sure he could have coped with a barrage of hand signals and gestures!!
Saturday afternoon and I was finally released, with a bag full of pharmaceutical goodies. Now all I need is the last bits of my mouth to heal up and then I’m going to have the greasiest, squishiest, sloppiest take-away burger I can find!
OK, who forgot to pack the fun and frolics? I can do the odd funless day with no frolics but not two weeks worth thank you very much!
It all started (surprisingly enough) about two weeks ago. After a chat with Dr Socks we all agreed that the Red Devils needed to be sacked as they appear to have done what little good they are capable of. Next question, what to replace them with. The pin the tail on the donkey game came down with the tail pinned in Taxotere, again as a weekly chemo, possibly for ten weeks but we’d see how we go.
That same day (Dr Socks doesn’t hang around…..must’ve had “go faster" stripes on the socks that week!), I had my first dose of Taxotere. Seemed ok, no reactions, all good stuff.
Fast forward to that weekend and my mouth is revolting. Oral thrush, ulcers and tasting like the bottom of a monkey’s cage. Mr Bad Fairy says I can’t say that …I should say bird cage but I think monkey’s cage is far more descriptive!! Monday sees me sulking (in between sleeping) in hospital. Dehydrated, neutropenic and in need of five days of IV antibiotics. Big Hrmph! The worst part? Not the fact that I couldn’t eat or drink, no, the fact I couldn’t speak. A silent and huffy Bad Fairy is not a Bad Fairy you’d want to spend much time with!
Luckily for me, a few were brave enough to visit. Mr Bad Fairy did a brilliant job of managing to hold a conversation with me without me feeling like I wasn’t getting a word in, he knows how much that would have annoyed me! Fairy Godmother made a surprise visit too. She really shouldn’t have, not because it wasn’t lovely to see her but because she has so much stress and worry to deal with of her own at the moment. And the wayward purple Pippa called in on numerous occasions, raising a smile each and every time.
By Friday things were improving slowly. Still couldn’t eat but at least I could manage to sip drinks which saved being constantly pumped full of liquids! Also a squeak of a voice had returned. Dr Socks braved a visit. I think he’d been waiting until I could at least mutter again ….not entirely sure he could have coped with a barrage of hand signals and gestures!!
Saturday afternoon and I was finally released, with a bag full of pharmaceutical goodies. Now all I need is the last bits of my mouth to heal up and then I’m going to have the greasiest, squishiest, sloppiest take-away burger I can find!
Thursday 10 June 2010
Straight talking......
…..junior style.
Picture the scene, the Bad Fairy family trundling along in the car early on a Monday morning and the following conversation takes place.
Master BF, “Where’re we going? Oh, it’s the hospital. Why? It’s sooo boring!”
Me, “I have to have my weekly blood test so we won’t be here long.”
Master BF, “That’s no fun. It’s so sooooo boring.”
Miss BF, “ Don’t moan! It’s not fun for Mum either. She has to have blood tests so she can have her medicine. If she doesn’t have her medicine she’ll die because her liver won’t work and you don’t want that do you?”
Master BF (sheepishly!), “No.”
Miss BF (after a few moments pondering), “Mum, when you’re dead what will you be like?”
Me, “ ……..Smelly!”
Miss BF, “Hmmm, I don’t think you’ll be bad smelly, I think you’ll be good smelly like when you’ve had a shower.”
Not a tear shed, although I admit to a slight lump in the throat, and the conversation ended up discussing Egyptians and cats!!
I think that’s a good sign that the jumbled boxes are slowly being put in order again. Last week that same overheard conversation would have had me in pieces and certainly wouldn’t have received the same contribution from me.
Children, so accepting, so innocent and so utterly loveable and wonderful. All the more reason to do everything to prolong this adventure for as long as possible.
Picture the scene, the Bad Fairy family trundling along in the car early on a Monday morning and the following conversation takes place.
Master BF, “Where’re we going? Oh, it’s the hospital. Why? It’s sooo boring!”
Me, “I have to have my weekly blood test so we won’t be here long.”
Master BF, “That’s no fun. It’s so sooooo boring.”
Miss BF, “ Don’t moan! It’s not fun for Mum either. She has to have blood tests so she can have her medicine. If she doesn’t have her medicine she’ll die because her liver won’t work and you don’t want that do you?”
Master BF (sheepishly!), “No.”
Miss BF (after a few moments pondering), “Mum, when you’re dead what will you be like?”
Me, “ ……..Smelly!”
Miss BF, “Hmmm, I don’t think you’ll be bad smelly, I think you’ll be good smelly like when you’ve had a shower.”
Not a tear shed, although I admit to a slight lump in the throat, and the conversation ended up discussing Egyptians and cats!!
I think that’s a good sign that the jumbled boxes are slowly being put in order again. Last week that same overheard conversation would have had me in pieces and certainly wouldn’t have received the same contribution from me.
Children, so accepting, so innocent and so utterly loveable and wonderful. All the more reason to do everything to prolong this adventure for as long as possible.
Sunday 6 June 2010
Hard hats and.....
…..steel toecaps required!
AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH. Hmm, that feels a bit better.
Someone has upended the special storage boxes in my head. The ones that I file things away in until I’m ready to deal with them. I’ve gone back over the past few weeks and can’t recall doing any spectacular gymnastics or other twizzly stuff that might have inadvertently scattered their contents everywhere, so why have they all got muddled up?
It’s very frustrating. The boxes were doing a really good job of keeping my thoughts and feelings in their place and now I’ve got to start again putting it all away. Maybe I’ve overloaded some of them and they just burst? Actually, if I’m honest, I’ve probably got lazy and just been cramming things in, sitting on the lids in the hope that they’d hold together.
Now there’s no other option than to start the big clean up …. in reinforced boxes!
The Anger Box - anger at this stupid disease.
The Guilt Box - feelings of guilt because of how it affects everyone around me.
The Sadness Box - sadness at the shadows cancer casts over so many lives.
The Frustration Box - frustration with everything …when the mood takes me.
The Scared Box - this new life is scary.
On a brighter note, when the above boxes are sorted then I can indulge in dipping into the happier boxes. The memory box, the laughter box, the Mr Bad Fairy box, the Junior Bad Fairy box, the embarrassing moment box, the friends box and the giggle ‘til you cry box.
Wish me luck!
AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH. Hmm, that feels a bit better.
Someone has upended the special storage boxes in my head. The ones that I file things away in until I’m ready to deal with them. I’ve gone back over the past few weeks and can’t recall doing any spectacular gymnastics or other twizzly stuff that might have inadvertently scattered their contents everywhere, so why have they all got muddled up?
It’s very frustrating. The boxes were doing a really good job of keeping my thoughts and feelings in their place and now I’ve got to start again putting it all away. Maybe I’ve overloaded some of them and they just burst? Actually, if I’m honest, I’ve probably got lazy and just been cramming things in, sitting on the lids in the hope that they’d hold together.
Now there’s no other option than to start the big clean up …. in reinforced boxes!
The Anger Box - anger at this stupid disease.
The Guilt Box - feelings of guilt because of how it affects everyone around me.
The Sadness Box - sadness at the shadows cancer casts over so many lives.
The Frustration Box - frustration with everything …when the mood takes me.
The Scared Box - this new life is scary.
On a brighter note, when the above boxes are sorted then I can indulge in dipping into the happier boxes. The memory box, the laughter box, the Mr Bad Fairy box, the Junior Bad Fairy box, the embarrassing moment box, the friends box and the giggle ‘til you cry box.
Wish me luck!
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