....lumps ‘n’ bumps!
I’m cream crackered! Pleasantly cream crackered it has to be said.
Yesterday was a busy day. We took the children to watch the Severn Bore. It wasn’t the most spectacular one I’ve seen, it was a three star version (the best being a five star). For their first one they were suitably impressed with the power of nature! The wave was big enough for the surfers brave enough to dodge the water propelled tree trunks to surf for a while, although I don’t suppose anyone broke any records. The bore is one of those natural events which is quite breath-taking to witness, the natural power of the tide in a quickly narrowing river can only reinforce any respect you have of water. Personally I wouldn’t set foot in the river, one it’s cold, two it’s very powerful and three it’s wet!!
Then it was off for chemo. All went smoothly and it was back home ready for the Juniors bed time.
Not that they stayed there for too long. Mr Bad Fairy had promised to wake them up to watch the meteor shower! So at midnight Master Bad Fairy sat ooohing and ahhing accompanied by constant “Wow did you see that?” and chatter chatter chatter. Miss Bad Fairy sat on my knee with three coats on her and a hot water bottle and couldn’t resist the offer of a second tucking into bed for the evening!
And now the lumps and bumps bit. Slight exaggeration, it’s only one lump or even bump. Right at the bottom of my breast bone. Dr Socks says it’s a “tumour deposit”, in other words this grotty disease has now shown it’s presence in my skin. Hrmph! It started as a little bump, possibly a bite or spot so I didn’t think much of it. It’s now about a centimetre in diameter and is looking very attractive….not. Luckily it hasn’t broken through the skin so it doesn’t need dressing or fussing over. Dr Socks thinks it could be a useful indicator as to whether this chemo is being effective but has said that if it becomes troublesome or painful he’ll zap it with radiotherapy. The only troublesome bit, if you can call it that, is that I’m now having to do an impression of a free spirited 70’s hippy chic or maybe it’s a radical feminist. Bras have had to be abandoned as the band rests on the lump and I’m not risking damaging or irritating the skin any more than necessary. But then, as I’m not in the habit of hoisting my t-shirt over me head in public places I don’t suppose it will have a huge impact on my lifestyle!!
Showing posts with label secondary breast cancer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label secondary breast cancer. Show all posts
Friday, 13 August 2010
Tuesday, 3 August 2010
Woe is me.....
…..but don’t despair!
It was the weekly jaunt to see the consultant today to get the ok for chemo this week and woe is me ….the little toe-rag is on holiday! Fancy that, holidays in August tut tut, how dare he. Mr Bad Fairy muttered under his breath about Dr Socks probably being on a yacht sailing to and fro between exotic islands. I was thinking more caravan at Cromer maybe?
After a mere two hour wait and numerous cups of tea I was summoned in to see the covering doctor. A quick chat and a glance down my throat was all it needed for it to be confirmed that the thrush birds are still in residence. Not as many but still lingering. So no chemo for this week. My liver function is relatively stable despite having last week’s dose cancelled so it wasn’t too hard to agree with the doctor that the best thing was to wait another week, speak with Dr Socks next Tuesday and see where we go from there (the Bahamas would be nice but I don‘t think the NHS would pay for that as a therapy!). The decision was helped along by my comment about not wanting to be admitted to hospital again and the doctor’s return comment that chemo can kill!
I don’t know how effective the limited amount of this chemo I’ve had has been on the cloudy tumours but it’s done the deed with my hair and nails. Each eye has about a dozen lashes left (yes I did try, unsuccessfully, to count them without poking myself in the eye). I do wonder why it is that even the bottom lashes when they fall manage to defy gravity and fall up into my eye. Why is that? My eyebrows are also doing their own thing. I could start yet another new trend here. For some weird reason I’ve lost a horizontal stripe right through the middle of one eyebrow. I now look like I have “go faster” stripes above my right eye! As for nails, let’s just not go there …. Mr Bad Fairy has been told he is the official scratcher and will have to scratch any itchy bits for me!!
It was the weekly jaunt to see the consultant today to get the ok for chemo this week and woe is me ….the little toe-rag is on holiday! Fancy that, holidays in August tut tut, how dare he. Mr Bad Fairy muttered under his breath about Dr Socks probably being on a yacht sailing to and fro between exotic islands. I was thinking more caravan at Cromer maybe?
After a mere two hour wait and numerous cups of tea I was summoned in to see the covering doctor. A quick chat and a glance down my throat was all it needed for it to be confirmed that the thrush birds are still in residence. Not as many but still lingering. So no chemo for this week. My liver function is relatively stable despite having last week’s dose cancelled so it wasn’t too hard to agree with the doctor that the best thing was to wait another week, speak with Dr Socks next Tuesday and see where we go from there (the Bahamas would be nice but I don‘t think the NHS would pay for that as a therapy!). The decision was helped along by my comment about not wanting to be admitted to hospital again and the doctor’s return comment that chemo can kill!
I don’t know how effective the limited amount of this chemo I’ve had has been on the cloudy tumours but it’s done the deed with my hair and nails. Each eye has about a dozen lashes left (yes I did try, unsuccessfully, to count them without poking myself in the eye). I do wonder why it is that even the bottom lashes when they fall manage to defy gravity and fall up into my eye. Why is that? My eyebrows are also doing their own thing. I could start yet another new trend here. For some weird reason I’ve lost a horizontal stripe right through the middle of one eyebrow. I now look like I have “go faster” stripes above my right eye! As for nails, let’s just not go there …. Mr Bad Fairy has been told he is the official scratcher and will have to scratch any itchy bits for me!!
Friday, 23 July 2010
Who needs sleep?.....
…..Me, I do and lots of it!
I know, you know and lots of other people know that it’s not advisable to take steroids after about 6pm. My chemo appointment yesterday was running a bit late and it was about 5.45pm when my pre-chemo steroids were sent firing through my veins.
Oh what a night! It was quite obvious that it wasn’t going to be an early one, steroids make me a bit hyper. I leave the chemo suite ready to dance around the car park … the reason why Mr Bad Fairy won’t let me drive myself home! Quite sensible really, goodness knows where I’d end up.
The hours ticked by, chattering about complete nonsense to Mr BF until he couldn’t take it anymore and had to go to bed. A few more hours on the computer …..chatting. The hours ticked past and my little brain was whizzing around, no sign of letting up.
4am arrived and I decided I really should try to sleep. Off I went to bed, little brain still whizzing. Do I want a cup of tea? Why does Tabitha the cat purr so loudly? Can I feel the chemo doing some Kung Fu fighting with those cloudy tumours? Why is it getting light outside so early? Wish Bertie hadn’t scoffed my cake, I could just nibble a bit now. I wonder if the person who loses a shoe in the middle of the road realises they’ve lost a shoe? Surely that’s something you’d notice? Flap the quilt about a bit, rearranged so it’s just right. Punch the pillows into submission, flip them over to get the benefit of the cooler side.
Right, time for the tried and tested relaxation techniques. Flex and relax each muscle individually starting at the toes, this usually works by the time I get to my knees. Picture a tranquil scene complete with winding paths and a waterfall cascading into a crystal clear pool. Repeating the word ‘relax’ or ‘sleep’ or strangely enough ‘black’ over and over and over. And all of the time the clock keeps ticking.
Failed miserably. The clock ticked and reached 5.30am. Definitely need that cup of tea now. The twittering, tweeting and occasional screech of the dawn chorus outside the bedroom window had reached a volume that was becoming irritating! I swear I could hear the rabbits bouncing across the lawn looking for that particular lush bit of grass that would make the perfect breakfast feast.
Ah well …..who needs sleep? Me, I do! Maybe I should have used up that energy dancing across the car park?
Night night, sweet dreams and mind the bed bugs don’t bite!
I know, you know and lots of other people know that it’s not advisable to take steroids after about 6pm. My chemo appointment yesterday was running a bit late and it was about 5.45pm when my pre-chemo steroids were sent firing through my veins.
Oh what a night! It was quite obvious that it wasn’t going to be an early one, steroids make me a bit hyper. I leave the chemo suite ready to dance around the car park … the reason why Mr Bad Fairy won’t let me drive myself home! Quite sensible really, goodness knows where I’d end up.
The hours ticked by, chattering about complete nonsense to Mr BF until he couldn’t take it anymore and had to go to bed. A few more hours on the computer …..chatting. The hours ticked past and my little brain was whizzing around, no sign of letting up.
4am arrived and I decided I really should try to sleep. Off I went to bed, little brain still whizzing. Do I want a cup of tea? Why does Tabitha the cat purr so loudly? Can I feel the chemo doing some Kung Fu fighting with those cloudy tumours? Why is it getting light outside so early? Wish Bertie hadn’t scoffed my cake, I could just nibble a bit now. I wonder if the person who loses a shoe in the middle of the road realises they’ve lost a shoe? Surely that’s something you’d notice? Flap the quilt about a bit, rearranged so it’s just right. Punch the pillows into submission, flip them over to get the benefit of the cooler side.
Right, time for the tried and tested relaxation techniques. Flex and relax each muscle individually starting at the toes, this usually works by the time I get to my knees. Picture a tranquil scene complete with winding paths and a waterfall cascading into a crystal clear pool. Repeating the word ‘relax’ or ‘sleep’ or strangely enough ‘black’ over and over and over. And all of the time the clock keeps ticking.
Failed miserably. The clock ticked and reached 5.30am. Definitely need that cup of tea now. The twittering, tweeting and occasional screech of the dawn chorus outside the bedroom window had reached a volume that was becoming irritating! I swear I could hear the rabbits bouncing across the lawn looking for that particular lush bit of grass that would make the perfect breakfast feast.
Ah well …..who needs sleep? Me, I do! Maybe I should have used up that energy dancing across the car park?
Night night, sweet dreams and mind the bed bugs don’t bite!
Monday, 19 July 2010
Animals do the....
…….naughtiest things!
Who said pets are good for you? Therapeutic? Reduce stress levels? Excuse me whilst I splutter into my cup of tea.
The Bad Fairy household is a bit of a zoo. Not a proper zoo, we don’t have a giraffe, a hippopotamus nor an elephant. (Although the jury is out on the elephant after a rather large hole appeared in the bottom field…..suspicions have been voiced that a rogue elephant may be trying to break in!)
We did have some orphaned lambs that grew up to be big sheep. They were re-homed after I had to retrieve one from next door, he was mooching around the living room watching the television. Presumably he was a bit put out at having to miss the Jeremy Kyle Show because after this incident the only way I could walk through the field without being butted was if I held him in a head lock!
Chickens are much easier. Except Milly. Milly thinks she’s a dog. She can frequently be found, head tucked under her wing, having a nap under the kitchen table. After being evicted she sulks and stares longingly through the window waiting for the next chance to sneak in. She comes running (you’ve never seen a chicken sprint so fast!) when she hears the dog food being served up and follows the dogs around to make sure she isn’t missing out on anything.
I suppose that brings us nicely to dogs. There are three Bad Fairy dogs, all Labradors. Anden (needless to say there’s a story behind the name) and Penny are both nine. Very loyal, very gentle and generally very good. They have had their moments but have mellowed like a fine wine. And then there’s Bertie.
Bertie (named because I thought he had hints of Bertie Wooster about him) is naughty. If there was a naughty corner for dogs Bertie would live in it. He just can’t help himself. He lulls you into a false sense of security by being a model dog for a few days, gazing at you with those soppy big brown eyes, resting his head in your lap and then it all gets too much for him. Nothing is safe. Bertie can open the pedal bin and will cheerfully retrieve any goodies he can find there. He’s a super-swift worktop surfer and helps himself to anything that takes his fancy, loaves of bread, cake, table mats, a bottle of Ribena and yes that last one did make a bit of a mess! Worse than all of that he dared to steal my Jaffa Cakes, slobbered on them all then ate the cardboard box. Therapeutic? Yeah right!
Anyone want a dog?
Who said pets are good for you? Therapeutic? Reduce stress levels? Excuse me whilst I splutter into my cup of tea.
The Bad Fairy household is a bit of a zoo. Not a proper zoo, we don’t have a giraffe, a hippopotamus nor an elephant. (Although the jury is out on the elephant after a rather large hole appeared in the bottom field…..suspicions have been voiced that a rogue elephant may be trying to break in!)
We did have some orphaned lambs that grew up to be big sheep. They were re-homed after I had to retrieve one from next door, he was mooching around the living room watching the television. Presumably he was a bit put out at having to miss the Jeremy Kyle Show because after this incident the only way I could walk through the field without being butted was if I held him in a head lock!
Chickens are much easier. Except Milly. Milly thinks she’s a dog. She can frequently be found, head tucked under her wing, having a nap under the kitchen table. After being evicted she sulks and stares longingly through the window waiting for the next chance to sneak in. She comes running (you’ve never seen a chicken sprint so fast!) when she hears the dog food being served up and follows the dogs around to make sure she isn’t missing out on anything.
I suppose that brings us nicely to dogs. There are three Bad Fairy dogs, all Labradors. Anden (needless to say there’s a story behind the name) and Penny are both nine. Very loyal, very gentle and generally very good. They have had their moments but have mellowed like a fine wine. And then there’s Bertie.
Bertie (named because I thought he had hints of Bertie Wooster about him) is naughty. If there was a naughty corner for dogs Bertie would live in it. He just can’t help himself. He lulls you into a false sense of security by being a model dog for a few days, gazing at you with those soppy big brown eyes, resting his head in your lap and then it all gets too much for him. Nothing is safe. Bertie can open the pedal bin and will cheerfully retrieve any goodies he can find there. He’s a super-swift worktop surfer and helps himself to anything that takes his fancy, loaves of bread, cake, table mats, a bottle of Ribena and yes that last one did make a bit of a mess! Worse than all of that he dared to steal my Jaffa Cakes, slobbered on them all then ate the cardboard box. Therapeutic? Yeah right!
Anyone want a dog?
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!
Wednesday, 26 May 2010
Question time......
…..ponderings, Bad Fairy style.
Why does it seem that only my white hairs are falling out with this chemo and not the dark ones? My yellow Labrador seems to “melt” more than the black two do, maybe there‘s an explanation in there somewhere! Or maybe there are just more white ones to fall out in the first place.
Why are young children so accepting and resilient when life throws them some tough stuff to deal with?
Why do I manage to set the smoke detector off whenever I make toast?
Why is it that I go from feeling guilty to emotional in thirty seconds? An example, having my pre chemo blood test done on Monday, I told the phlebotomist I felt guilty jumping the queue (after dodging daggers in the waiting room). She pointed out that she didn’t think there was one person in the waiting room who, knowing my circumstances, would offer to change places with me and I wasn’t to feel at all guilty. I hadn’t thought about it like that before but I think she had a point.
Why do I now have freckles?
Why do people use the words fight, battle and lost when they talk about cancer? I‘m not saying these are the wrong words, after all we all have to use language which inspires us to keep going. Fighting and battling to me means that there is a winner and loser. One day I will lose because I started with an uneven playing field, I don’t mind being the underdog, but this is more like being the underdog’s underdog! It’s a bit like a knight going to battle against a dragon and he doesn’t get issued with a horse or a sword, slightly unfair and doesn’t really give him much of a chance does it? Anyway despite all of that I’m not a loser (and never will be where cancer is concerned)… so to me this is an adventure. I’m having new experiences, new challenges, making new friends and seeing the world through different eyes ….and you can’t lose on an adventure!
Why do I always ask questions?!
Why does it seem that only my white hairs are falling out with this chemo and not the dark ones? My yellow Labrador seems to “melt” more than the black two do, maybe there‘s an explanation in there somewhere! Or maybe there are just more white ones to fall out in the first place.
Why are young children so accepting and resilient when life throws them some tough stuff to deal with?
Why do I manage to set the smoke detector off whenever I make toast?
Why is it that I go from feeling guilty to emotional in thirty seconds? An example, having my pre chemo blood test done on Monday, I told the phlebotomist I felt guilty jumping the queue (after dodging daggers in the waiting room). She pointed out that she didn’t think there was one person in the waiting room who, knowing my circumstances, would offer to change places with me and I wasn’t to feel at all guilty. I hadn’t thought about it like that before but I think she had a point.
Why do I now have freckles?
Why do people use the words fight, battle and lost when they talk about cancer? I‘m not saying these are the wrong words, after all we all have to use language which inspires us to keep going. Fighting and battling to me means that there is a winner and loser. One day I will lose because I started with an uneven playing field, I don’t mind being the underdog, but this is more like being the underdog’s underdog! It’s a bit like a knight going to battle against a dragon and he doesn’t get issued with a horse or a sword, slightly unfair and doesn’t really give him much of a chance does it? Anyway despite all of that I’m not a loser (and never will be where cancer is concerned)… so to me this is an adventure. I’m having new experiences, new challenges, making new friends and seeing the world through different eyes ….and you can’t lose on an adventure!
Why do I always ask questions?!
Tuesday, 27 April 2010
Feeling guilty ....
…..for being quiet and grumpy!.
Bad Fairies aren’t known for being quiet so sometimes we have to put a bit of practise in and that‘s what I‘ve been doing.
The past three weeks have been very busy in the Bad Fairy house, school holidays, meeting up with an old school friend, parents visiting and parents staying. All very lovely and thoroughly enjoyable but here’s the rub. I hate admitted that my energy levels aren’t what they were. Giving in to feeling tired isn’t something I do. Spur of the moment is my style and unfortunately spur of the moment is a bit of a drain on the limited fairy resources ….and then I pay the price.
Being sociable is something I enjoy, certainly not something which used to use up much energy. Weird how now it does if I don’t pace myself better. It’s not just physical energy either, mental energy leaks out of my ears like little puffs of dragon’s smoke! A combination of being poisoned weekly, having lumpy bad bits tapping into vital energy supplies and doing all of the usual mum stuff should give me a hint that reserves are likely to be lower but I choose to ignore that.
The lack of mental energy can cause problems. Lack of concentration which can make conversations really weird. The appalling memory skills. Knowing that it really isn’t worth my while trying to do Junior Bad Fairy homework are some of the less troublesome. The worst is that I read too much into what others say and could very easily over react. I want to shout (but don’t) that it’s not important that you had sugar in your tea and didn’t want it, who cares if a plate got smashed, does it really matter that someone pushed into a queue of traffic …. I want to be very selfish and shout (but still don’t!) that what’s important is that I’m grateful to have woken up this morning and I’m alive.
The solution. Well, I suppose I could be sensible and space things out better but that seems a bit boring and predictable. So the Bad Fairy solution is, wear yourself out to the point where you can’t remember how to spell your own name and then spend some time in quiet reflection. Not sleeping, just sitting. No company, apart from some very gentle burbling bubbles, no interruptions. Reorganise the cluttered mental filing cabinets, wear a grumpy face and relax! Works a treat.
In my defence I have to say, the grumpy face isn’t grumpy. It’s my thinking face. It’s just relaxed, not smiling or frowning, not doing anything really just being there, sort of non-expressive I suppose. Miss Bad Fairy calls it my grumpy face but I think that’s because she gets confused with quiet and grumpy, neither of which come naturally to her either!
Bad Fairies aren’t known for being quiet so sometimes we have to put a bit of practise in and that‘s what I‘ve been doing.
The past three weeks have been very busy in the Bad Fairy house, school holidays, meeting up with an old school friend, parents visiting and parents staying. All very lovely and thoroughly enjoyable but here’s the rub. I hate admitted that my energy levels aren’t what they were. Giving in to feeling tired isn’t something I do. Spur of the moment is my style and unfortunately spur of the moment is a bit of a drain on the limited fairy resources ….and then I pay the price.
Being sociable is something I enjoy, certainly not something which used to use up much energy. Weird how now it does if I don’t pace myself better. It’s not just physical energy either, mental energy leaks out of my ears like little puffs of dragon’s smoke! A combination of being poisoned weekly, having lumpy bad bits tapping into vital energy supplies and doing all of the usual mum stuff should give me a hint that reserves are likely to be lower but I choose to ignore that.
The lack of mental energy can cause problems. Lack of concentration which can make conversations really weird. The appalling memory skills. Knowing that it really isn’t worth my while trying to do Junior Bad Fairy homework are some of the less troublesome. The worst is that I read too much into what others say and could very easily over react. I want to shout (but don’t) that it’s not important that you had sugar in your tea and didn’t want it, who cares if a plate got smashed, does it really matter that someone pushed into a queue of traffic …. I want to be very selfish and shout (but still don’t!) that what’s important is that I’m grateful to have woken up this morning and I’m alive.
The solution. Well, I suppose I could be sensible and space things out better but that seems a bit boring and predictable. So the Bad Fairy solution is, wear yourself out to the point where you can’t remember how to spell your own name and then spend some time in quiet reflection. Not sleeping, just sitting. No company, apart from some very gentle burbling bubbles, no interruptions. Reorganise the cluttered mental filing cabinets, wear a grumpy face and relax! Works a treat.
In my defence I have to say, the grumpy face isn’t grumpy. It’s my thinking face. It’s just relaxed, not smiling or frowning, not doing anything really just being there, sort of non-expressive I suppose. Miss Bad Fairy calls it my grumpy face but I think that’s because she gets confused with quiet and grumpy, neither of which come naturally to her either!
Wednesday, 14 April 2010
Toxic burps.......
..….how to clear a room in an instant!
Have you ever stood in a queue and just wished that everyone in front of you would miraculously disappear? I have, I’m not the most patient of shoppers at the best of times, shopping fights for the prized last place on the to-do list with housework. I now have a secret weapon which clears an aisle/bar/queue in an instant!
The Toxic Burp. It’s a rather rank and putrid burp admittedly but it does a fantastic job so mustn’t be criticised too heavily. I think it’s brought about by the culmination of so many drugs to counter act the side effects of the side effects that the side effects cause … if you get my drift!!
Toxic burps seem to be rather selective which I suppose is a good thing. They pick one week at a time and then shuffle off and retreat to some little pit somewhere to be infused with smelly things until their next outing a couple of weeks later. The recipe would probably make for interesting reading.
Why not do the ladylike thing and keep them to yourself I hear you ask? Hah! Have you had toxic burps? Have you tried to suppress a toxic burp? Easier said than done. They have a mind of their own and will not be stopped in their flow. Their need to release that pent up stink, ideally accompanied by a rather loud expulsion of air, green puffs of smoke and a muttered “pardon me”, is far greater than any need to attempt to make me anything like ladylike!
Still, at least they’re top toxic burps and not bottom toxic burps. They’re visiting this week. Not sure why this week is special. Maybe it’s in the treatment plan? Yesterday was week five of the “Red Devil” and they appeared on week two as well. I might have to have a look at the schedule, make sure I make full use of any future visits!
Oooh….is that Mr Bad Fairy and the Juniors I see scrambling down the driveway clutching half-packed suitcases?!
Have you ever stood in a queue and just wished that everyone in front of you would miraculously disappear? I have, I’m not the most patient of shoppers at the best of times, shopping fights for the prized last place on the to-do list with housework. I now have a secret weapon which clears an aisle/bar/queue in an instant!
The Toxic Burp. It’s a rather rank and putrid burp admittedly but it does a fantastic job so mustn’t be criticised too heavily. I think it’s brought about by the culmination of so many drugs to counter act the side effects of the side effects that the side effects cause … if you get my drift!!
Toxic burps seem to be rather selective which I suppose is a good thing. They pick one week at a time and then shuffle off and retreat to some little pit somewhere to be infused with smelly things until their next outing a couple of weeks later. The recipe would probably make for interesting reading.
Why not do the ladylike thing and keep them to yourself I hear you ask? Hah! Have you had toxic burps? Have you tried to suppress a toxic burp? Easier said than done. They have a mind of their own and will not be stopped in their flow. Their need to release that pent up stink, ideally accompanied by a rather loud expulsion of air, green puffs of smoke and a muttered “pardon me”, is far greater than any need to attempt to make me anything like ladylike!
Still, at least they’re top toxic burps and not bottom toxic burps. They’re visiting this week. Not sure why this week is special. Maybe it’s in the treatment plan? Yesterday was week five of the “Red Devil” and they appeared on week two as well. I might have to have a look at the schedule, make sure I make full use of any future visits!
Oooh….is that Mr Bad Fairy and the Juniors I see scrambling down the driveway clutching half-packed suitcases?!
Friday, 9 April 2010
Tears of a clown......
……when there’s no-one around.
Quite apt words I suppose. Clowns do cry and so do Bad Fairies.
This blog post has been rambling around my head for a while and after a few “moments” this week I feel I can now put the detail to it and be brave and share. I’m very conscious of the fact that I tend write as I think and most of the time I’m naturally quite cheerful and chirpy. Sometimes though the tears roll.
I’ve always cried, it’s not a new thing. Films, books, songs have all been known to set me off. The sort of crying that involves a few tears meandering slowly and discreetly down a cheek.
But something has changed. My emotions are more free-flowing and more open than ever before. I haven’t got time to waste bottling things up so I’m less guarded, I can’t think of a better way to describe it.
These tears are a whole new experience. They’re not tears for me or indeed anyone else, they’re not tears of sadness, frustration or even anger. They’re tears brought about by the kindness and thoughtfulness of others towards me, including strangers. That sounds awful doesn’t it? You’d think no one had ever been kind to me before! They have, but I’ve never been so touched emotionally by it, or at least not to the extent that I bawl my eyes out and turn myself into a soggy faced, unable to talk, crumpled heap for five minutes at a time! As you can see it passes quickly but it is unbelievably intense whilst it lasts and usually happens totally out of the blue.
Some examples of the things that have set me off this week alone…..
An email from a wonderful lady to say thank you for some flowers I‘d given her. Apparently my timing, unbeknownst to me, was perfect and the flowers had lifted her just when she needed a little boost.
My mum’s hairdresser Ali, asking if I would allow her to wear my name on her back when she and some friends run the “Race for Life” this year. Ali doesn’t really know me, but is a good friend of Mum’s and (unfortunately for her!) she gets to hear all about me.
Another email, forwarded by an aunt from a friend of hers who had read this blog. Such encouraging and supportive words, again from someone I don’t know but full of care, compassion and positive vibes for the Bad Fairy family.
And finally my Fairy Godmother. She reads me like a book, touches on subjects no one else has the courage to discuss and always with impeccable timing. She just “knows” if you know what I mean. Where would we be without a Fairy Godmother? I think she deserves a blog post dedicated just to her!
I’ve no idea how to label these tears …..any suggestions?
Quite apt words I suppose. Clowns do cry and so do Bad Fairies.
This blog post has been rambling around my head for a while and after a few “moments” this week I feel I can now put the detail to it and be brave and share. I’m very conscious of the fact that I tend write as I think and most of the time I’m naturally quite cheerful and chirpy. Sometimes though the tears roll.
I’ve always cried, it’s not a new thing. Films, books, songs have all been known to set me off. The sort of crying that involves a few tears meandering slowly and discreetly down a cheek.
But something has changed. My emotions are more free-flowing and more open than ever before. I haven’t got time to waste bottling things up so I’m less guarded, I can’t think of a better way to describe it.
These tears are a whole new experience. They’re not tears for me or indeed anyone else, they’re not tears of sadness, frustration or even anger. They’re tears brought about by the kindness and thoughtfulness of others towards me, including strangers. That sounds awful doesn’t it? You’d think no one had ever been kind to me before! They have, but I’ve never been so touched emotionally by it, or at least not to the extent that I bawl my eyes out and turn myself into a soggy faced, unable to talk, crumpled heap for five minutes at a time! As you can see it passes quickly but it is unbelievably intense whilst it lasts and usually happens totally out of the blue.
Some examples of the things that have set me off this week alone…..
An email from a wonderful lady to say thank you for some flowers I‘d given her. Apparently my timing, unbeknownst to me, was perfect and the flowers had lifted her just when she needed a little boost.
My mum’s hairdresser Ali, asking if I would allow her to wear my name on her back when she and some friends run the “Race for Life” this year. Ali doesn’t really know me, but is a good friend of Mum’s and (unfortunately for her!) she gets to hear all about me.
Another email, forwarded by an aunt from a friend of hers who had read this blog. Such encouraging and supportive words, again from someone I don’t know but full of care, compassion and positive vibes for the Bad Fairy family.
And finally my Fairy Godmother. She reads me like a book, touches on subjects no one else has the courage to discuss and always with impeccable timing. She just “knows” if you know what I mean. Where would we be without a Fairy Godmother? I think she deserves a blog post dedicated just to her!
I’ve no idea how to label these tears …..any suggestions?
Monday, 5 April 2010
Tigger Juice .....
…..please Sir, can I have some more?
Rest assured, it does state on the packaging that ‘No Tiggers were harmed in the making of this product.’ I can’t honestly believe anyone would allow a Tigger to be juiced anyway, can you imagine the wailing and gnashing of teeth it would cause? Eeyore wouldn’t know what to mope about first!
Good thing it’s not real Tigger Juice then and only a nickname for more medication (I can hear the sigh of relief from here!). Tigger juice is the Bad Fairy nickname for the dexamethasone steroids given along side chemo. I had them with the last lot and am having them again. Taking into account that not too many of us would be clapping our hands in glee at the thought of chemotherapy, I do when Tigger Juice is mentioned.
The medical opinion is that it helps as an anti-sickness treatment, along with reducing any inflammation, reducing the risk of allergic reactions to the rest of the cocktail and can increase the appetite of those who lose theirs as a result of the rest of the chemical cocktail given. I’m sure it does a lot more besides but those are the reason I’m aware of.
Good news is it does the trick with me. No sickness (the important bit in my book!), a slimmer liver and thankfully no allergies.
It does however have side-effects. It makes me bounce …. Just like Tigger! Hence the name. Now normally I could be described as a sort of laid-back kind of person. I don’t rush out to run marathons, nor does housework appear that often at the top of my list of jobs to do, there are far more enjoyable things to spend my energy on. But, Tigger Juice messes up my sleep. I’m a night owl anyway and tend not to be in bed much before midnight and then catch up with a lie-in at the weekend if needed. This week has seen me up at 4am most mornings, and that’s after going to bed at about …ooh….1.30am!
Without Tigger Juice, this lack of sleep would have me sulking, stamping my feet and having tantrums and tearful outbursts, in much the same way as a sleep-deprived child. With Tigger Juice I find myself loading the washing machine at 4am, cleaning out kitchen cupboards (sorry spiders!), baking and writing blog posts (well at least I can do that quietly!!). I have a sneaky feeling that Mr Bad Fairy is quite relieved that the days of me waking him at 4am to share a cup of tea and look at the gorgeous sunrises have passed.
The Bad Fairy household would like to reassure you that I’m only allowed the Tigger Juice for four days of the week …. shame really, but there you go, I quite like the Tiggered-up me!
Rest assured, it does state on the packaging that ‘No Tiggers were harmed in the making of this product.’ I can’t honestly believe anyone would allow a Tigger to be juiced anyway, can you imagine the wailing and gnashing of teeth it would cause? Eeyore wouldn’t know what to mope about first!
Good thing it’s not real Tigger Juice then and only a nickname for more medication (I can hear the sigh of relief from here!). Tigger juice is the Bad Fairy nickname for the dexamethasone steroids given along side chemo. I had them with the last lot and am having them again. Taking into account that not too many of us would be clapping our hands in glee at the thought of chemotherapy, I do when Tigger Juice is mentioned.
The medical opinion is that it helps as an anti-sickness treatment, along with reducing any inflammation, reducing the risk of allergic reactions to the rest of the cocktail and can increase the appetite of those who lose theirs as a result of the rest of the chemical cocktail given. I’m sure it does a lot more besides but those are the reason I’m aware of.
Good news is it does the trick with me. No sickness (the important bit in my book!), a slimmer liver and thankfully no allergies.
It does however have side-effects. It makes me bounce …. Just like Tigger! Hence the name. Now normally I could be described as a sort of laid-back kind of person. I don’t rush out to run marathons, nor does housework appear that often at the top of my list of jobs to do, there are far more enjoyable things to spend my energy on. But, Tigger Juice messes up my sleep. I’m a night owl anyway and tend not to be in bed much before midnight and then catch up with a lie-in at the weekend if needed. This week has seen me up at 4am most mornings, and that’s after going to bed at about …ooh….1.30am!
Without Tigger Juice, this lack of sleep would have me sulking, stamping my feet and having tantrums and tearful outbursts, in much the same way as a sleep-deprived child. With Tigger Juice I find myself loading the washing machine at 4am, cleaning out kitchen cupboards (sorry spiders!), baking and writing blog posts (well at least I can do that quietly!!). I have a sneaky feeling that Mr Bad Fairy is quite relieved that the days of me waking him at 4am to share a cup of tea and look at the gorgeous sunrises have passed.
The Bad Fairy household would like to reassure you that I’m only allowed the Tigger Juice for four days of the week …. shame really, but there you go, I quite like the Tiggered-up me!
Thursday, 1 April 2010
Over the rainbow.....
….....don’t panic!! I’m not about to burst into song, I promise. That would be far too cruel of me.
Aren’t rainbows the most beautiful, awesome natural creations? I still see them through the eyes of a child and feel all tingly and amazed whenever I spy one. I’ve no idea if my reaction is because of their magnificent yet simple colours, a fascination with the power of nature or a wish to hold on to innocent childhood fantasies of Leprechauns leaving crocks of gold at their ends! Whatever it might be, I stop and stare with wonder at them all. Luckily for me we seem to have picked an ideal rainbow spotting area in which to live. Since moving here I’ve seen more rainbows than ever, included double rainbows, something I’d never witnessed before and I never get bored of gazing at them.
Rainbows weave their way through many cultures, faith systems and folklore and have done for thousands of years. Some believe it is a pathway or bridge, others that it is a symbol of their God (or Gods and Goddesses). The stories are endless and fascinating in their diversity. For some a rainbow brings peace, hope or comfort, to others fear. After losing a much loved (and very ancient) cat a friend emailed me a copy of the poem “Rainbow Bridge”, a poem I’d never previously read but am now unlikely to forget.
So, rainbows … I know a secret. Leprechauns were only ever taking cheeky advantage of something created by fairy magic (ok … and a bit of science and nature!). Bad Fairies have a special affinity to rainbows. Many moons ago Bad Fairies were punished for minor infringements of fairy rules with a fairy ASBO. This resulted in pots of paints and brushes being issued and the instruction to repaint any fading rainbow seen. Now being Bad Fairies following explicit instructions can be very trying and does go against the grain somewhat. So they improvised. Splash the colours by all means but ladders and scaffold (elf n safety at it’s best!)? No chance! The best way to paint a rainbow is to scramble up one in the most ungainly way possible, attach a sodden paintbrush to a belt around your waist and slide down yelling “Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee” at the top of your voice! Hey Presto, great fun and leaves a rather haphazard stripe of colour in your wake ….job done!
When my time comes and I’m not here to ramble, I shall be sliding down rainbows. No star in the night sky for me, nor cold stone in the ground. Rainbow sliding’s where I’ll be! Bad fairies are good at hiding, but one day if you keep looking you might catch a glimpse of a paint covered, scruffy little fairy out of the corner of your eye, riding the rainbows with a massive grin on her face!
Aren’t rainbows the most beautiful, awesome natural creations? I still see them through the eyes of a child and feel all tingly and amazed whenever I spy one. I’ve no idea if my reaction is because of their magnificent yet simple colours, a fascination with the power of nature or a wish to hold on to innocent childhood fantasies of Leprechauns leaving crocks of gold at their ends! Whatever it might be, I stop and stare with wonder at them all. Luckily for me we seem to have picked an ideal rainbow spotting area in which to live. Since moving here I’ve seen more rainbows than ever, included double rainbows, something I’d never witnessed before and I never get bored of gazing at them.
Rainbows weave their way through many cultures, faith systems and folklore and have done for thousands of years. Some believe it is a pathway or bridge, others that it is a symbol of their God (or Gods and Goddesses). The stories are endless and fascinating in their diversity. For some a rainbow brings peace, hope or comfort, to others fear. After losing a much loved (and very ancient) cat a friend emailed me a copy of the poem “Rainbow Bridge”, a poem I’d never previously read but am now unlikely to forget.
So, rainbows … I know a secret. Leprechauns were only ever taking cheeky advantage of something created by fairy magic (ok … and a bit of science and nature!). Bad Fairies have a special affinity to rainbows. Many moons ago Bad Fairies were punished for minor infringements of fairy rules with a fairy ASBO. This resulted in pots of paints and brushes being issued and the instruction to repaint any fading rainbow seen. Now being Bad Fairies following explicit instructions can be very trying and does go against the grain somewhat. So they improvised. Splash the colours by all means but ladders and scaffold (elf n safety at it’s best!)? No chance! The best way to paint a rainbow is to scramble up one in the most ungainly way possible, attach a sodden paintbrush to a belt around your waist and slide down yelling “Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee” at the top of your voice! Hey Presto, great fun and leaves a rather haphazard stripe of colour in your wake ….job done!
When my time comes and I’m not here to ramble, I shall be sliding down rainbows. No star in the night sky for me, nor cold stone in the ground. Rainbow sliding’s where I’ll be! Bad fairies are good at hiding, but one day if you keep looking you might catch a glimpse of a paint covered, scruffy little fairy out of the corner of your eye, riding the rainbows with a massive grin on her face!
Saturday, 27 March 2010
I feel lucky .....
.... lucky to have been diagnosed with secondary cancer?
We are forever reminded of the uncertainty of life and the fact that life can end unexpectedly at any age. I've had an advanced warning. That advanced warning has prompted me to look at my life and appreciate all of the good things in it, something I may not have had the opportunity to do had I plodded on assuming that I'd live for a long time. So I am lucky!
Lucky to have a wonderful and gorgeous husband. The fact he leaves his socks on the bathroom floor is no longer something I nag about. It's not important. I love spending time with him, just being in the same room makes me feel contented and happy.
Lucky to have two amazing and beautiful children. They make me smile when I least feel like it. They fascinate me with their observations and thoughts. The world is an enchanting place when seen through the eyes of a child!
Lucky to have such brilliant friends and family.
The list could go on but I'll stop there. I'm lucky, despite and because of the cancer. All of these things were there before but now I look at them and appreciate every last little bit of them. More importantly, I feel, I have the opportunity to let these important people know how lucky I feel to have them as part of my life.
We are forever reminded of the uncertainty of life and the fact that life can end unexpectedly at any age. I've had an advanced warning. That advanced warning has prompted me to look at my life and appreciate all of the good things in it, something I may not have had the opportunity to do had I plodded on assuming that I'd live for a long time. So I am lucky!
Lucky to have a wonderful and gorgeous husband. The fact he leaves his socks on the bathroom floor is no longer something I nag about. It's not important. I love spending time with him, just being in the same room makes me feel contented and happy.
Lucky to have two amazing and beautiful children. They make me smile when I least feel like it. They fascinate me with their observations and thoughts. The world is an enchanting place when seen through the eyes of a child!
Lucky to have such brilliant friends and family.
The list could go on but I'll stop there. I'm lucky, despite and because of the cancer. All of these things were there before but now I look at them and appreciate every last little bit of them. More importantly, I feel, I have the opportunity to let these important people know how lucky I feel to have them as part of my life.
Friday, 26 March 2010
Thrown in the deep end....
... without a snorkel or so it felt!
After such a quick diagnosis there was no time to worry or do any scary internet research. Looking back this was probably a good thing. Mr Bad Fairy and I shed a few tears and had no choice but to move on and deal with this new life that had been forced on us. Life goes on doesn't it? Being optimists we were determined to seek out, no matter how deeply they were buried, any tiny little positive moments along with any hint of something which might raise a giggle at a later date. (See? Positive thoughts .... there will be a later date!)
So there we were meeting the oncologist for the first time on a Monday. On Wednesday I was hooked up to an IV pump having the first of ten weekly doses of Taxol. What a strange new world!
Daft as it sounds I was quite pleased to be starting this journey with my vivid yellowness. Logic says that if the chemo started to work then the tumours would shrink and the yellowness would fade. It worked! Family and friends could slowly see a difference on the outside which reflected the changes on the inside.
Nine weeks later and I was flat on my back in the CT scanner to check on progress. Yeah hey! On average an 80% reduction in tumour sizes. It was working!
The plan was to have three more doses on a three weekly cycle. The last one was cancelled and I'm now on Arimidex tablets and Zoladex implant/jabs whilst waiting for an appointment to discuss having my ovaries removed.
Another CT scan (last week) showed that things had remained unchanged except for on my bones .... bones? No one had mentioned bones before. It seems that on the previous scan there were a couple of spots on my spin but as it was a CT scan and not a bone scan it wasn't obvious what these "spots" were so they didn't tell me. Seems that on the latest scan there has been a noticeable change which could be new bone growth resulting from the effects of the chemo. This new revelation now means a three weekly trip to the chemo unit for IV Zometa to strengthen my bones.
So there you go, that's where I am (medically) today only five months into this journey! Mr Bad Fairy keeps reminding me that I never did like being predictable and that I've always been impulsive rather than taking things at a leisurely pace!!
After such a quick diagnosis there was no time to worry or do any scary internet research. Looking back this was probably a good thing. Mr Bad Fairy and I shed a few tears and had no choice but to move on and deal with this new life that had been forced on us. Life goes on doesn't it? Being optimists we were determined to seek out, no matter how deeply they were buried, any tiny little positive moments along with any hint of something which might raise a giggle at a later date. (See? Positive thoughts .... there will be a later date!)
So there we were meeting the oncologist for the first time on a Monday. On Wednesday I was hooked up to an IV pump having the first of ten weekly doses of Taxol. What a strange new world!
Daft as it sounds I was quite pleased to be starting this journey with my vivid yellowness. Logic says that if the chemo started to work then the tumours would shrink and the yellowness would fade. It worked! Family and friends could slowly see a difference on the outside which reflected the changes on the inside.
Nine weeks later and I was flat on my back in the CT scanner to check on progress. Yeah hey! On average an 80% reduction in tumour sizes. It was working!
The plan was to have three more doses on a three weekly cycle. The last one was cancelled and I'm now on Arimidex tablets and Zoladex implant/jabs whilst waiting for an appointment to discuss having my ovaries removed.
Another CT scan (last week) showed that things had remained unchanged except for on my bones .... bones? No one had mentioned bones before. It seems that on the previous scan there were a couple of spots on my spin but as it was a CT scan and not a bone scan it wasn't obvious what these "spots" were so they didn't tell me. Seems that on the latest scan there has been a noticeable change which could be new bone growth resulting from the effects of the chemo. This new revelation now means a three weekly trip to the chemo unit for IV Zometa to strengthen my bones.
So there you go, that's where I am (medically) today only five months into this journey! Mr Bad Fairy keeps reminding me that I never did like being predictable and that I've always been impulsive rather than taking things at a leisurely pace!!
The story begins ......
... towards the end of June 2009.
As happens frequently at primary schools the dreaded lergy was doing the rounds. My two children seemed to have avoided it along with myself and my husband. That was until I got up on the Monday and felt a bit queasy. Needless to say I was a bit miffed to still be feeling a bit "off" by the end of the week, usually bouncing back from these things quite quickly ... and was quite unnerved to discover a tinge of yellow in my eyes the next Monday morning. By the following Monday I looked like I was doing a very bad impression of a canary and had grown a hard lump at the top of my breast. I know the lump wasn't there the week before because I'd checked just before I noticed the yellow tinge in my eyes.
Off to the GPs I went .... after checking exactly where the surgery was being such an infrequent visitor! Little did I realise what lay ahead. I'd convinced myself that my canary yellow appearance was due to nothing more alarming than a wedged gallstone (not that I'd ever had them!) and the breast lump would be just one of those things that would go away as quickly as it appeared. Luckily for me my GP wasn't happy to leave me yellow for any length of time and arranged for an ultrasound within days and a two week referral to the breast clinic.
The ultrasound caused concern and I was admitted to the local hospital the next Monday (why is it always a Monday?) for a CT scan and an endoscopy booked for the Tuesday. The endoscopy didn't happen but that's another story for another day. The CT scan was enough and on the Thursday the liver chap mumbled, very apologetically, that it wasn't a stray gallstone it was cancer. Secondary breast cancer to be exact ... "Oh and there are a couple of bits on your lungs". Friday, a rushed appointment with the breast specialist, quick biopsy taken just to confirm they were (officially) right and then a bizarre conversation with a Breast Care Nurse (yet another story for another day!) and an appointment with an oncologist arranged for the Monday.
Where did that come from?? I'm 40, never been ill ... still don't feel ill, maybe a bit less energetic than normal but nothing to worry about and now here I am an official cancer patient who is "manageable" but not curable......
As happens frequently at primary schools the dreaded lergy was doing the rounds. My two children seemed to have avoided it along with myself and my husband. That was until I got up on the Monday and felt a bit queasy. Needless to say I was a bit miffed to still be feeling a bit "off" by the end of the week, usually bouncing back from these things quite quickly ... and was quite unnerved to discover a tinge of yellow in my eyes the next Monday morning. By the following Monday I looked like I was doing a very bad impression of a canary and had grown a hard lump at the top of my breast. I know the lump wasn't there the week before because I'd checked just before I noticed the yellow tinge in my eyes.
Off to the GPs I went .... after checking exactly where the surgery was being such an infrequent visitor! Little did I realise what lay ahead. I'd convinced myself that my canary yellow appearance was due to nothing more alarming than a wedged gallstone (not that I'd ever had them!) and the breast lump would be just one of those things that would go away as quickly as it appeared. Luckily for me my GP wasn't happy to leave me yellow for any length of time and arranged for an ultrasound within days and a two week referral to the breast clinic.
The ultrasound caused concern and I was admitted to the local hospital the next Monday (why is it always a Monday?) for a CT scan and an endoscopy booked for the Tuesday. The endoscopy didn't happen but that's another story for another day. The CT scan was enough and on the Thursday the liver chap mumbled, very apologetically, that it wasn't a stray gallstone it was cancer. Secondary breast cancer to be exact ... "Oh and there are a couple of bits on your lungs". Friday, a rushed appointment with the breast specialist, quick biopsy taken just to confirm they were (officially) right and then a bizarre conversation with a Breast Care Nurse (yet another story for another day!) and an appointment with an oncologist arranged for the Monday.
Where did that come from?? I'm 40, never been ill ... still don't feel ill, maybe a bit less energetic than normal but nothing to worry about and now here I am an official cancer patient who is "manageable" but not curable......
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