“Non nobis solum nati sumus. (Not for ourselves alone are we born.)” ― Marcus Tullius Cicero

Chemo 2 - Week 2:

This has been a week of total 'ups and downs'... well if the truth be known.... 'downs and downs!' 

Thursday the 19th was the first day that I was to inject myself with the alternative drug to the Lonquex, this one is called Neupogen. As you will all now be aware, this drug is to help stimulate the bone marrow in order to encourage and speed up the creating of new white blood cells, as these are the cells that become damaged and 'killed off' by the chemotherapy. Neupogen is the older of the two drugs and was administered using the older style syring and not the spring loaded syring that the Lonquex came in.... 

"OMG... I am shit hot at giving injections... I could do this for a living... I never felt a thing, or saw it either, I had my eyes closed.... Damn, did it go into me at all???"  :)

Following my rant a while back about what I want regarding surgery, I had the meeting with the Surgeon on Friday of last week, the 20th and the 2nd day of the injections.  Gerry and I went off to the hospital for the appointment. As usual we were on time and had hardly to wait any time at all before we were called in to see the surgeon along with the nurse who is looking after me. 

Once again we were seated around the small circular table with the box of tissues sat squarly in the middle. The nurse directed us into the room and we sat and quietly waited for the Surgeon to arrive. A few minutes later in walked Mr Geraghty. This time, gone was the suited, slightly austere looking surgeon and in his place a smiling man in scrubs, just from surgery and more human and down to earth. I guess, on the days he has to give the original diagnosis he has to keep his 'professional distance' otherwise the man would never be able to do his job due to emotional stress alone. 

Smiling and nodding, Mr Geraghty shook our hands, swapped pleasantries, and got straight down to the topic at hand. He started by telling us that he and his team would be discussing what was best for me, how it was going to be carried out and everything would be discussed as a team, and each 'hurdle' or occurrence dealt with and discussed in depth. That there are over 50 doctors, sugeons, nurses etc involved in these meetings. Each would have a say in what happens. I nodded smiled and listened. Mr Geraghty paused and I started...

"I know that everybody will be doing their best to look after me, But tell me Mr. Geraghty, exactly how much of what I want will actually be considered by your team?"

Mr Geraghty paused again, and said that my question was a very good question. He stated that he was already fully aware of what I wanted. He had spoken to Eileen, the nurse in charge of my care. I responded by saying that I was aware of the fact that surgeons were very reluctant to remove healthy tissue, however, I was even more aware of the mental, emotional and psychological damage that coming around from surgery with scar tissue on the left and a breast on the right would do to me. That knowing that I will not entertain reconstructive surgery, to leave me in that manner would be tantamount to cruelty. Mr Geraghty listened, he listened, he nodded and he agreed. I then asked Mr Geraghty the following question:

"Mr Geraghty, What type of breast cancer do I have?"

Now there are a variety of breast cancers and they all have different receptors that fuel their growth. 

Invasive Ductal Carcinoma, Ductal Carcinoma in Situ, Inflammatory Breast Cancer, Metastatic Breast Cancer and Triple Negative Breast Cancer. There are others too. The three most common types of receptors that are known to 'feed' these cancers are oestrogen, progesterone, and the HER-2/neu gene. 

I have Triple Negative Breast Cancer. This is unfortunately a rather aggressive cancer that can be difficult to treat and has a greater chance of re-occuring. What makes this cancer different is the fact that the three receptors known to feed the other cancers are not present in this cancer, therefore the treatments used to attack the other cancers, such as hormone therapy and drugs that target estrogen, progesterone, and HER -2 are ineffective on Triple Negative Breast Cancer. 

This type of cancer is found in 10 -20% of people diagnosed with breast cancer. One the positive side, when this is caught in the early stages, it can respond to chemotherapy quicker than many forms cancers.  Another statistic to note that did make me smile was the following; Triple Negative Breast Cancer is more likely to affect younger people, African Americans, Hispanics, and/or those with a BRCA1 gene mutation (to you and I, that is the breast cancer gene that is carried from generation to generation and people tend to have bilateral mastectomies before they develop breast cancer).

Now some might ask, Why did this make Me smile?... Ok lets just get a 'check list' going...

• Young people                  -                No (I am 49 and have to own up to being middle aged)
• African American           -                White and Welsh (Celtic)
• Hispanic                          -                As Above
• BRCA1 gene carrier       -                Nope, not BRCA1 gene carrier

Now if this cancer affects 10 - 20% of all those diagnosed with breast cancer and predominantly affects the four groups mentioned.... Where the effing hell do I fit in? If I am to look at it logically, I must be in a group of 4%, however if that was the case there would be a 5th group saying '49 year old  white celtic females, none gene carriers and occasionally nutty as a fruit cake' I guess that narrows the percentage group to 1% .... Once again Murphy has to be 'different', even when it comes to having cancer. 

Because Triple Negative Breast Cancer is likely to return, the fact that I had decided on a bilateral mastectomy was supported by Mr Geraghty. He also asked me about the lymph nodes and the removal of the nodes not only on the affected side, but also on the side of the non cancerous bosom. My respons was to instruct Mr Geraghty to take it all. I really never want to have to go through this again. The fact that this cancer can return was worrying as although a bilateral mastectomy is greatly reducing it, there is a small chance that it can return in different places, however, If it has not returned within a five year period, its likelihood to return then reduces dramatically and becomes on a par with all the other cancers around. So the message that I am picking up from that is the following: Live a mega healthy life.... NOT..... Party, party, party... I chose to lead a healthy life and began a year last October, I ended up with a heart scare (thankfully it turned out to be an infection that had a slight effect on my heart rhythm), and a year later bloody cancer... So I think living life to the full, relaxing, laughing making sure life is lived, will definitely be on the cards... Sod healthy living - personally it hasn't done too much for me! (actually before I get killed here, and to reassure all my family and friends,  of course I will live life sensibly ;-)) Sure don't you all know me by now... ha ha ha ha ha!!!

Saturday came and with it so did the doldrums. Gerry and Joe headed off to work, Jim headed out with his pals and I, well I sat here in the house. I gave myself the 3rd injection of 5, mooched around, and felt restless. I couldn't get the fact out of my head that I had Triple Negative Breast Cancer. It just seemed to sit there in my brain, pushing it's negativity into my mind, causing my mind to go into overdrive. I didn't want to see or talk to anyone. To be honest, it had me feeling like the proverbial 'sack of shit'! Family and friends messaged me and called, I terminated conversations and responded to texts as briefly as possible. I lay on the sofa, I flicked through the telly, I thought of having a glass of wine, but recalling how horrible chemo makes it taste, thought again. I picked up my book to read, and put it down again. I lay back on the sofa and had a cry. Not one of those heart breaking cries that comes from the tip of your toes and works up to sobs and wails, but an angry cry, a cry where I wanted to punch everything in sight, A cry where I had the unmerciful urge to go into the kitchen and smash everything in sight, A cry that possibly should have occured a while back when first diagnosed. This was the 'cherry on the cake' or so I thought... Little did I know that tomorrow that 'cherry' would be demoted to the 'icing on the cake'... the 'cherry' was still to occur!

Sunday I woke up fairly early.  My eyes were feeling tight and dry. I got out of bed and quietly went downstairs. I poured an ice cold glass of water and came and sat down with my legs curled under me.  I gave myself the 4th injection and I made myself a promise. A promise to keep on fighting, not to give up, to fight this bolloxing cancer like I have inteded to from the beginning, not to fear this interloper in my life, this life sucking leach that I am nuking with chemo, this life sucking leach that will be cut out of me, anything then left of this life sucking leach will then be burned into oblivion with radiotherapy. 

"Yes You, You Triple Negative Breast Cancer can get out and effing walk... your not getting a lift in this body, you my nasty little hitch hiker, can jog right on!"

Gerry came down and made himself and the boys a breakfast. Today I really did not feel like having a big brekkie, so a piece of fruit it was.  Gerry and I headed out at around half twelve to do the weekly shop in Dunnes.  As I was walking around popping this and that into the trolley, my feet started to itch. This itch became very intense. It was all I could not to stop in the middle of the isle, take off my DM's (Susan O Reilly that one is for  you - note I did not use the term Dockers here), and scratch my feet like a lunatic. I wanted to stick them on the frozen veg in the freezer isle. I started to walk faster, flinging essentials only into the trolley. Sod walking around looking at everyting, this was getting serious, I was a gnats gonad away from dropping heavy loads onto my feet in desperation. I kept stopping and stamping on my own feet... Yes, anyone reading this and seeing a well built female with a bald head, wearing DM's and manically jumping from foot to foot to stamp on alternate feet every second... yes that was me.... !!!

Well Holy Mother of God, I got to the check out... hadn't this itch now spread to my hands. I was starting to sweat, throwing items onto the conveyor belt like a maniac. Gerry stared and I must have given him some look, because whatever he was going to say, was swallowed. We hastily paid and left.

Now typically this just happened to be the Sunday that good old Santa Claus was arriving, there were hoards of men, women and children blocking the way through the shopping centre ... The urge to scream "RUN... FIRE!" and to beat a path through these people with my trolley as battering ram was tempting beyond belief, knocking men, women and childeren assunder and subsequent consequences was nothing. I needed to get home and stop this maddening itch.  We finally got home, boots and socks removed as I am entering the house. I went upstairs... ran upstairs and soaked them in ice cold water. This had only a momentary relief...  What the heck was going on. I took off my rings, and ran my hands back under the kitchen tap. How greatful was I that I had taken them off. The next minute infront of my eyes and a bit like Harry Potters Aunt, my fingers started to swell, then my palms, then the back of my right hand, another cold rinse needed. It was now a constant tingle and if I left it it remained a tingle, but touch it and it was like a fire, the itching was that intense. I put my head on Gerry's knee and groaned as the aggravating, torturous itch continued.

Gerry started to rub my scalp, well would you believe it! My scalp only started itching, and itch it did. I used my itching hands to scratch my itching head, while stamping my itching feet. I was like a gorilla having a siezure. The next thing I felt my face tingle, my nose started to burn and itch, this created a fit of sneezing, eyes were itching, lips tingling and then the lips started to swell and the nose started to close along with the my airways. I managed to get to call St. Anne's Ward, the Oncology ward at the hospital. This did not sound like a reaction to the chemo, and I was told to get an ambulance to A&E immediately. This I did. My breathing became laboured and rattled. One thought that went through my mind in panic was 'well cancer your bolloxed, Im about to suffocate us both!' It was a surreal and uncannily calm environment to a degree. Gerry in the diningroom reading his paper,  "You take it easy hon, Im only suffocating here!" The operator who took the 999 call stayed on line, I handed the phone to Gerry and he talked to him,  Joe had my coat ready, Jim had the door open to allow quick entry for the paramedics. My chest was getting tighter, breathing more and more laboured. I wanted to sleep. The paramedics arrived, Jim called my friend Suzanne in Dublin to ask if she could meet Gerry to help him get back home as he was travelling in the ambulance with me.  I was loaded into the ambulance, injected adrenalin via javelin, and had a mask put over my nose and mouth with a treatment that would widen the airways.  Oxygen was then given to me through tubes into my nostrils. A second treatment of the mask was put back onto my face along with the oxygen and my breathing started to regulate. We arrived at the hospital and I was brought into A&E and the sent into Resus where I was monitored, this infernal itch was now localised to scalp and hands. Eventually an antihistamine was given to me... It is now Tuesday, hands are still swollen and itching like hell.

I had suffered an anaphylactic shock. It is as yet, unclear as to what had created this. I was kept in until after 6 o'clock the following evening. I now have to go to an immunologist for allergy testing. I also have to carry an epipen just in case this all happens again. This folks, was the 'Cherry' on top of the cake. 

All through the pandemonium of this past week, I have had the most amazing support from my Wonderful Parents Roy and Glenys, Sister Diane and hubby Rich and Brother Roy with wife Fran, my Husband Gerry, Daughter Amy and two Sons Joe and Jim, My good friend Suzanne and Colleague Geraldine. If they have not been on the phone giving wonderful support, they have been here running, fetching and carrying. Messaging me and entertaining my via What's App, supporting me in hospital, keeping me smiling, I cannot thank you guys enough. You all truly do live by the words of Marcus Tullius Cicero, A Roman Philosopher, Lawyer, Orator, Politiacal Theorist, Consul and Constitutionalist "Non nobis solum nati sumus" - "Not for Ourselves alone are we born". Your support for me is amazing, when I am weak and you are all so strong, you don't know just how much that helps me. I extend this thanks to all my friends and extended family who message me regularly via social media, phone, text etc. Your messages give me nothing but amazing support and strength, and I will be eternally greatful.

Today I have put a link to a song I found which I feel says it all. Please click onto the link and listen to the lyrics of the song. It means a lot and is so fitting for the support I have from you all. Thanks once again. 

I'm going to love you through It"

Surprises, Laughter and Tears.

Week 1:  After 2nd Chemo

Chemo had taken place on the Thurday.  Friday, I had had such a great day with an amazing burst of energy and had used this energy positively to do housework that I felt needed doing. By Friday evening I was still on something of an 'energetic high'. I knew that I had to get to bed that evening or I would be totally jaded the next day. Sleep however was extremely evasive. Gerry and I watched T.V., I couldn't concentrate on anything really, and I felt totally restless.  By midnight Gerry said 

"Come on hon, you are going to need to sleep or you will be ill!" 

He headed up stairs and I followed up about 40 minutes later. 

By half past one in the morning, I was still tossing and turning. I finally dozed off  only to wake again at half two, four, and again at half five in the morning. This was so frustrating. Finally I fell asleep. I was somewhere in the 'Land of Nod', and stirred when I felt Gerry getting out of bed, I opened one eye, and Gerry said 

"shhhh.. go back to sleep, It's only 7:00a.m. but I'm awake now and going downstairs" 

"Ok..." 

I muttered and drifted back off to sleep.  I could hardly have been asleep for 10 minutes when I sensed that there was somebody in the room. It was pitch black as the hallway light had been turned off. 

"Gerry... Gerry are you there?... Hello... who is there?" 

A slight sense of apprehension started to build, when all of a sudden this icy cold hand held my arm... As icy cold as it was, It was small, soft and a hand I knew straight away... With a bigger second hand gently stroking my now bald head.... I could not believe it and a sob of joy escaped as I clung like a baby to my wonderful Mum and Dad. My parents, both in thier 70's who have worked so hard all their lives are still there for me now. Every bit as much the towers of strength they were for me as a child, they have that same strength about them now, and I cried. I cried and cried and cried. I held onto them as though my life depended on it. They held me and Dad told me that everything was going to be alright. I had put on the lamp and was concious of how I looked. Although I have sent and posted up photo's of myself sans hair, I still felt a slight 'self conciousness' seeing Mum and Dad with my 'new' look. Dad held me and stroked my head saying that I still looked beautiful.  What an absolutely wonderful surprise. I had my parents with me for the next four and a half days.  

That day, we spent time together chatting, catching up and laughing. We went down to do the grocery shopping that afternoon. Mum and Dad had brought over a beautiful leg of welsh lamb. All the trimmings were bought to make a wonderful roast dinner the next day. 

On Monday, I went with Mum and Dad to take Joe and Jim to school. We headed off, dropped the boys and took the coast road back to Arklow. We decided to stop off in Bridgewater Shopping Centre for a stroll around. It was in here, I noticed that my legs seemed to be getting weaker and weaker. I said nothing but Mum noticed that I was dragging my foot. 

"C'mon, time to get you home I can see that you are tired"

We got to the car and headed home. I walked in the front door and it was as though all the energy had been sapped from my body. I sat down and reclined the seat back. I felt very tired. As the day progressed, I became weaker and weaker. I had eaten breakfast and lunch, as well as having taken all medications as instructed. This second bout of chemo was making itself known. A 'pins and needles' like feeling in my toes, soles of my feet and my fingers, that awful metallic taste in my mouth with tastebuds having packed their bags and left and an utter feeling of weakness. I dozed sporadically. Mum and Dad prepared tea, and at three left to go and pick up the boys. They arrived home, I was still zonked out on the sofa. By now the aches and pains in my bones were making an unwelcome return. I now know that chemo does hurt the bones, but the lonquex compacts those pains and they increase dramatically. I will know tomorrow if the other drug that I have to inject has any other or additional horrible side effects as I start the 5 day jab plan tomorrow (Thursday) 'Oh the Joy!' Mum went into the kitchen and continued cooking dinner. I felt hopeless and lazy. At tea time we all went to the table. Grace was said and we all started to eat, I could feel myself getting hotter and hotter and left the table to get a drink of water. I was returning to the table and could physically feel my knees getting weaker. It was as though my whole body was just starting to 'fold' in half. I made it to the table but was rapidly getting weaker. Mum and Gerry held me and walked me back to the sofa, I passed out as I was lowered into the seat. I drifted in and out of conciousness. This was a surreal and slightly frightening occurrance as I appeared unable to shake of this drowsiness. I was given lucozade to boost energy, slowly I came round. I ate my tea later that evening and later went to bed. I slept deeply. 

The following morning, once again my parent's took the boys to school whilst I slept right through until just before lunch time.  The aches were reducing a lot today, but the feeling of utter weakness was something that I just could not believe. It is hard to even describe just how weak chemo can make you feel. I am an avid reader, but I couldn't hold my book, I went online to fill in a form but looking at the screen had me on the verge of passing out once again. There was, in all utter honesty, absolutely nothing I could do without feeling as though I was weaker than a new born kitten. Walking to and from the bathroom had me holding myself up against the wall, climbing the stairs to take a bath had me breathing as though I had run a marathon, climbing into the bath had me shaking like a leaf. I managed to climb out of the bath and put on fresh pyjamas. The shaking was just awful. I headed up to bed a bit earlier and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. 

Today, I woke up and felt a lot better. I headed downstairs and Mum and Dad arrived at about ten. I wasn't much looking forward to today, as today Mum and Dad were going home. I always get upset when they go but now that I have this diagnosis, I just don't want to be apart from them at all. It is terrible getting this sort of diagnosis as it stops you in your tracks and makes you take total stock of  your  life. It makes you prioritise and quite frankly it makes you realise that we as human beings are not at all immortal. Today I didn't want to let my Mum and Dad go. Today, in my heart, I felt like I had many years ago when I was first left at school in St Joseph's in Colwyn Bay, In Mrs Morgan-Jones's class. I broke my heart. Today I felt like that little girl. All I wanted was my Mum and Dad to either stay or take me home with them. Yes, I am still a baby at heart. It made me realise that no matter how old we get, we will always be our Parent's 'babies'. If you are lucky to have your parents and have a good relationship with them, it makes you realise that you actually will always need your parents. We hugged and said bye and off Mum and Dad left to get the boat from North Wall in Dublin. After they had left, then came my tears. 

Not to leave this on a 'depressing note' ... I don't like closing my blog on a depressing note.... I thought I would share this little episode with you. 

This could of course not have gone without incident, after all, I am my parent's daughter, my life is never without incident or occurrence.... and I didn't lick this up of the floor.... 

My Dad drove himself and Mum to the port. They arrived there safely and on time for their sailing. They had checked in and were in the line behind the other cars in readiness to board the boat. There were many others behind them all waiting to get on and get going. Mum and Dad headed to get a hot chocolate, returned to the car and settled down with their books. After all they still had and hour and 45 minutes to wait. Mum and Dad were totally engrossed in their books. So engrossed were they, that they failed to notice that the cars in front of them had boarded. As it happens, Mum was at a particularly exciting part of her story and nearly had a heart attack when she was suddenly hit by a flying book and the contents of a packet of crisps that had been launched in her direction as Dad panicked to catch up to the other cars and get boarded. This had the effect of lightening their afternoon and they both laughed and laughed as Mum was picking crisps up from all over her and the front of the car. 

What am I doing right now?   Laughing my head off at the images going through my mind... Laughing because once we stop laughing and let that low 'funk' envelope us.... well you may as well give up.... Laughter... lots of it, really does help... :) 

Parts of My towers of strength. My Dad, Gerry , Roy,  Diane and My Mum
More pictures of other towers of strength to follow: My children, more family and friends. :)
Thank you xx

Chemical Warfare Attack No. 2 - Ironically synced with the release of Call of Duty - Someone recognised the fighting soldier in me :)

Chemo Session No. 2 - Two down four to go :)

This week started off with a call from the Nurse at the Breast Clinic on Monday. This was to arrange todays meeting with the Surgeon regarding the surgery I will be needing after the series of Chemotherapy. As you are aware from my last blog, I mentioned how this call went and the outcome, the main one that the meeting be postponed until the 20th to give me more time to consider councelling.... Now you will all know my feelings on that one.  So I shall move swiftly on :) 

I worked my way through the week by downloading information on my rights and statistics of cancer appearing in the remaining breast should a bi-lateral mastectomy not be carried out. I have armed myself to the teeth with info. So my form of councelling has worked to my benefit, well to

my fighting attitude and good mental health. Now to wait a week for the meeting.

I had another call from the Radiotherapy Intervention team to discuss my arrival on Tuesday to have the Port-a-Cath fitted.  I also mentioned this in and the fitting of it in my last blog, I have now had this for four days. Yesterday it was to be used to allow the chemotherapy to be administerd in a more comfortable manner and would speed up the whole process. However, we are talking about me here, and as per usual if anything can go wrong it will...  'MURPHY'S LAW' once again.

I arrived at the hospital on time for my appointment. I had very little time to wait and Naimh - the nurse looking after me for the day  called me through. She took a look at the situation of the port, the considerable bruising both in my breast, upper chest and in my arm and was concerned enough to take bloods to check my platelets. The bruising is unfortunately quite extensive. Unfortunately, the bruising must be quite bad internally as there is extensive swelling around the port itself, as a result it could not be used. Therefore a good vein had to be searched for and used for today's chemotherapy that would be slowly administered over the day. I have to say, Niamh was fantastic at finding a strong vein and inserting the needle without me feeling any pain or discomfort at all. First a flush was put throught he cannula in order to ensure that everything flowed correctly, the first bag of chemotherapy followed next. This took just under three hours to flow through the cannula. The hours were divided into sets of 20 minutes after each 20 min the chemotherapy drip was increased slightly in speed. Once this was finished another flush was run throught the system. The second bag of chemotherapy was then set up and this ran through in just over an hour. This was followed by a third and final flush.

The Oncologist did the rounds while I was there. He too looked at the port and the extensive bruising. He asked that I keep an eye on it and that hopefully it will be fine for use for the duration of the rest of my sessions. I had a lovely time talking to the oncologist who patiently listened to my questions and answered them all. He informed me that I have Stage 2 cancer, which came as a relief to me, because I was expecting it to be stage 3 with the fact that the two new tumours had made an appearance. However, this does not move up a stage as the cancer is still in the same area and has not moved to another organ. He also cheered me up and said that in his opinion from the feel of the original lump, it appears to be responding positively to the chemotherapy. Albeit that it is responding well it does not unfortunately rule out the mastectomy in favour of a lumpectomy because of the two new tumours. Despite the fact that they are small (the tumour, and not my boobs),  they are situated very close to the chest bone. This is unfortunately very deep in the breast and as a result the whole breast will need to be removed. This has only enhanced the desire for a bi-lateral mastectomy. I have decided that I definitely do not want to entertain the notion of breast restructuring. I do not think that it looks very pleasant and, in my opinion, it does not really look like a breast at all, to get that 'boob' look, further cosmetic surgery will be needed months down the line and this comes at greast cost as it is not deemed as part of your surgical needs, but as cosmetic needs. I also have a reluctance to putting anything else into where my breast should be. I am getting rid of cancer and do not like the idea of replacing it with gel pads or body fat or netting etc. It will not give me any sensation, will not give me confidence, will not look pleasant and  will look like something having been put together with play-dough. 

Naturally this desire for a bi-lateral mastectomy is just my feeling and opinion, this will not be the desire of  all other women facing the same choice who may opt and be in favour of breast restructuring, some will go for the cosmetic surgery which is great if that is what you want and if it what you can afford. I feel that as a person who has developed cancer in the breast, I have almost come to view them as my 'enemy', something to be removed, with the second breast being removed for a number of reasons. These reasons are as follows (and remember these are my reasons, if other people facing breast surgery and are considering going for restructuring, that is great. That is your desire and need, I have an abject fear of this disease returning in the 'good' breast) 

Reasons:

1. Absolute Fear of Cancer returning in second breast, I never want to have to go through this again!
2. No desire at all for having restructuring surgery due to reasons already given
3. Mental and psychological stress at the thought of just having one breast
4. Wanting my body to look balanced 
5. Offended that restructure would really only benefit others by making me look more aesthetically pleasing to those looking at me, clothed naturally (I must look normal/ conform by having a 'rack')
6. Dread the thought at looking at myself in the mirror supporting just one breast and scar tissue along side it.  A cruel prospect.
7. Objection to being told that I should be considering everything I do NOT want and almost being forced to go down that road. No matter how distressed it may make me. 
8. Not being listened to by the people who count when it comes to MY surgery.

Today I made a decision. I have read so much, looked at statistics of cancers returning, and arming myself with information. I also called upon my GP. One of the most supportive and caring GP's in existence. My GP kindly called to my house today, sat and had a coffee and let me offload all my fears and worries. Now this is the listening skill that Surgeons do need to adopt. To say that I am feeling so much more relaxed and confident is an understatement. You see, should the Surgeons decide that they will not carry out a bi-lateral mastectomy, because we are in the E.U., If I can find a bonefide centre of excellence in breast cancer care, I can have the operation carried out abroad. Now to arm myself up with Breast Clinics in the U.K. who will help me. Take the steps to provisionally book this surgery so that it is all ready to go should I not be supported here. It will all fit in with the time scale that we are working to, and I can return to have the continuation of radiotherapy here when I get back. The added bonus being that this is all done at the cost of the HSE - I guess there is a bonus to being a hard working tax payer. To say that this has made me mentally relax is an understatement. Now to continue with my battle stratergy and to batton down the hatches. I think I am going to have a battle within a battle going on here.  

Considering I had chemo yesterday, I have had an amazing burst of energy today. I took the boys to school first thing this morning, Gerry made all the beds, did the upstairs bathrooms and vaccuumed for me, he had also vaccuumed downstairs too. When I got home, Gerry headed off to work and I steamed all the floors, did the downstairs guest toilet, cleaned my cooker, washed down the front of all the kitchen presses, my fridge and dishwasher, washed out the fish bowl and fed the dog, cat and bird. Whilst doing this I had my music playing and also downloaded lots of information on my rights. I worked up a lovely hunger. It is the first time I have actually felt hungry since I recieved my diagnosis of Cancer.  So, ham and cheese salad sandwich, with mayo, and ice cold bottle of water to wash it all down and my desert of anti-sickness tablet. Yummy :) I had a very relaxing afternoon, read my book for a while, and typing up my blog, chatting to my Mum and my little sister, Diane on the phone, when suddenly my email chimmed... the offer of working from home tutoring on a Continuous Proffessional Development Course from January arrived in my inbox. Now that will keep me busy and my mind on other things for a while. 

I hope all my readers and followers are feeling just as good as I am at the mo, of course I will have my low times but it is during those times that I will rest and recuperate building up energy to continue my fight, whatever life may be throwing at you right now, if you can sit back close your eyes and hold your hands out slightly in front of you, imagine that they are a set of scales with your postive points in one hand and the negative points in the other. Mentally image one negative point at a time - look at it in your mind, ponder on it and look at your positives and see how you can utilise them to turn that one negative to a positive, whether it be asking for help from friends, family, professionals, service providers if it is a bill or anything. Sometimes even sharing the problem helps you to solve it by just talking - things seem to become clearer and easier to address.  That negative can then be removed making your negative side of your scale that bit lighter and more manageable .  It is this sort of method I use to help me tackle things that arise. I continue to entertain myself with my interests, such as reading, solving puzzles (Rubik cubes), listening to my music, watching films, colouring and painting. If you are at home fighting an illness, or out of work,  if you have the strength, keeping yourself busy is the key. I have not yet attended the cancer support services here locally, but I intend to this next week. There are a lot of activities to take part in and new friends to make who may be in the same boat as me. Despite my illness, despite the deep underlying fear of a possible early demise, despite the debts that rise very quickly in these situations, I still feel that life is good. I have wonderful support from family, friends, colleagues and you as readers of my blog. Blogging gives me the platform to have my moan, get rid of my frustration and anxieties. Then when I hear that it is helping others it also gives me a purpose. I am going to continue blogging throughout my treatment, to what I hope and pray will be a remarkable full recovery. I hope that you all continue to follow my progress and for those of you who are feeling that you are getting strength and support from this blog long may that continue. Tonight Im finishing this blog on a big THANK  YOU for your continued support. Now it is time to go back to relaxing and watching Corrie with my family so I will bid you all a good night, I just hope and pray that I am feeling as bouyed and a amazingly well tomorrow as I have done today.  Night night all. 

Biopsies, Clips and Ports....

Week three after first Chemo.

Gerry and I woke up at quarter to six this morning, and got ready to leave the house for the hospital just after six, Yes I know, that was pushing it! After getting up, washing, and brushing my teeth, I got ready to face the daunting day ahead of me.  We actually ended up leaving the house just shy of 6:30 a.m. 

We arrived at St. Vincent's Hospital just before quarter past eight. The traffic had been very slow and very heavy. My first port of call at the hospital was to the phlebotomy dept. I took a ticket, number 17, and sat down thinking... 'Oh Great... More needles!' I was called in and the nurse took the three vials needed for today, all bloods had to be sent to the lab and results returned before the Radiology Intervention Dept. would put in the port. Next stop was the R.I. Dept. Gerry and I went up to the third floor and sat and waited to be called through. Just as the nurse came to call me, a second nurse arrived calling me too. The two nurses discussed where I should be going. I ended up being taken to the ultra-sound department where I would be given an ultrasound scan, and then each tumour would have pieces taken from them (biopsied) and also have a clip inserted into them. I learned today that the clips are inserted into the tumour, so that when they are removed, the tissue removed will be x-rayed to see if the tiny clips are there, this is an indication that they have removed all the tumours. Unfortunately, due to the fact that I now have three tumours and not just the one, and the fact that the added sizes of the tumours are measuring nearer 5cm, could mean that this will now mean a mastectomy as opposed to a lumpectomy. 

The doctor came in and carried out the ultrasound, she once again, pointed out the original tumour and then searched for the other two. Unfortunately they are very deep in the tissue, so, when the biopsy for each tumour was needed, a probe had to be inserted. This had to go quite deep causing only a small amount of discomfort. The biopsy was taken from each lump, I told the doctor that I felt as though the probe was almost coming out of my shoulder blade, I could feel discomfort in the shoulder and armpit area. This was probably because a nerve was being touched, the tumours are based very close to my chest bone. Apparently that is very deep. Next, with more extremely long needles, the clips were inserted. Three paper stitches were put over each 'cut' and a padded dressing over those. These are to remain in place for the next three days. After this procedure, I was told to go into the waiting room as a further mammogram was needed. 

In the breast clinic at St. Vincent's, the waiting room is a clean yet small room for women who are all attending the breast clinic for the same thing. Some are there for the first time, others are there for their 'over 50 call up',  some are there after being 'breast aware' and finding a lump,  today I was there having already had a diagnosis, first chemo, further biopsies and now waiting to be called for yet another mammogram to ensure that the clips were in the correct place. Luckily most walk away with a clean bill of health. I have been to this clinic on two occassions prior to my diagnosis. These were to check up on small lumps that I had found, which thankfully, had been nothing more than cyst like tissue, that 'disappeared' of its own accord. 

Today, I wore my black chemo cap, the obligatory blue gown and carried my upper clothes in a basket with my handbag. One thing I did notice  today was that when folk looked up at the 'new' person walking in, they quickly glanced away as opposed to the nod and smile I have had in the past. All had their own hair, all knew I was one of the unlucky one's and only one could meet my eye, smile and nod. I understand totally how the others felt. Before my diagnosis a similar thing happened when I was in the clinic, and a lady with no hair walked in. I nodded and swapped pleasantaries with her, but whilst I was there, nobody else did. It is as though people are looking away thinking, 'OMG... Poor woman, she must have cancer, Oh God... don't let that happen to me!' Seeing that person, makes the folk waiting for tests realise that this cancer is real, that it actually could be them, and it is only for the grace of God when it isn't.  This 'unwillingness' to acknowledge or glance my way did make me feel quite uncomfortable and I am in no doubt that they too felt uncomfortable, uncomfortable in the knowledge that if they were unlucky, they could be in my position in a month or two's time. Personally I hope none of them are. It is not a very nice place to be.  

After the Mammogram it was back to Radiology Intervention. Time for the port to be fitted. Once again I had to put on a blue gown and wait. A nurse arrived to take more bloods, I asked why I had to have more bloods taken, and once she realised I had already visited 'Dracula's Den' first thing this morning, and the results had come in, further bloods were not necessary. However, I did need a cannula inserted as this proceedure required that I have a anaesthetic.  I was taken into the 'theatre' where all preparations were underway. I was covered with a blue 'tent' that kept everything sterile. Oxygen tubes were inserted into my nostrils, two doctors came over and told me what would be happening and then the anaesthetic was administered.  I slowly and pleasantly drifted off to sleep. Two hours later I was waking up back in the recovery bay with Gerry stroking my head.  I drifted back to sleep. An hour later I was wide awake and Gerry and I were preparing to leave the hospital. Now I have to admit, I was and currently am in some discomfort. This is only to be expected really as there is quite a large foreign object going from the top of the right side of my chest and up into my neck. There are two sites that were cut and both these are a little painful. The pain has reduced slightly, but the feeling of the port under the skin is quite nauseating. I am a little on the squeamish side to say the least. I have put a photograph of a diagram of the port here so that you might understand how it has been inserted. There is no little 'dongle' type of fitting that attaches to the Chemo, this is beneath the skin and the skin has to be pierced each time to get the chemo drip attached to the port. And here I was thinking that I was going to be done with needles.... Fat Chance Murphy!!! It is that 'lumpy bit' under the skin that makes you want to hurl to be honest.  It is not too small either.  I am sure as the time progresses, the port will become less painful and uncomfortable as I become accustomed to it. In the meantime I just have to try to forget that it is there or I am likely to become anorexic with the amount of hurling I am liable to do at the mere thought of this object being under my skin and inside my veins. 

I have quite a busy week ahead of me, I have two days break from any hospital visit. I have Chemo on Thursday (another lengthy day at the hospital) and on Friday I have to return to the hospital for the results of the biopsies carried out today. That will be a meeting with the consultant. I just hope that there is no more bad news... God only knows that I certainly need a break from that sort of news. 

Hair Today.... Gone Tomorrow

Week Two following Chemo...

Earlier today I updated my blog as it had been nearly two weeks since I had posted up anything new.  I am sure you will all recall how I discovered my hair falling out whilst I was in the throes of typing up my blog.  I called Julie, and in all fairness to her, she came over this evening to help with the hair loss issue. This is just a short blog with some before and after photographs.

I don't really know what I was expecting, but while Julie was shaving my head and my son Jimmy taking photo's and both boys so gently asking "Are you ok Mum?" Jimmy then asking "Do you want me to shave my head so that your not alone?" My goodness, what more can a mother ask for? Julie stopping to make sure I was ok, and me, well quietly at one point I could feel warm tears building up, but I pulled myself together quickly. After all, it is only hair, and it will grow back once the treatment is over. In the meantime, I'm just going to be a super cool tattooed and bald headed mother.... How much cooler than that can you get? 

Gerry walked in just after the head shaving was over. I had such lovely compliments from him, "Wow... It's not really as bad as I thought it would be... not bad at all!" ha ha ha ha.... we then donned the famed chemo caps that I had found online and decided a few group selfies were in order. Joe, being the sensible one and not really liking having his photo taken abstained... but the rest of us... well you can see for yourselves! 

What added to my confidence boost, were the lovely What's App messages from my family. With my two little nieces, Ella and Ffion sending a voice message over "You look fantastic Aunty Lainey, well done, we love  you!" I love you too,  All of you.  Thank you so much for your wonderful love and support. 

Aches, Pains and Feeling Blue!

Weeks one and two after Chemo:

Many have contacted me via facebook asking for the next installment of my Blog. I am so glad that this is actually reaching folk and helping, entertaining, enlightening or just giving you something to read. There has been something of a gap since my last post. Here is the reason why!

As you are all aware, I was given my first dose of chemotherapy on Thursday the 22nd of October.  The following day I was given the news that two further tumours have been found (bloody disaster that was!), and I had also injected myself with Lonquex. As you will recall, this is the medication that encourages the fast regrowth of the white blood cells, those are the cells that chemotherapy kills. Now I had been warned that I would experience some aches, as this goes straight to the bone and stimulates the marrow into making cells reproduce fast. Ok, my understanding of 'feeling achy' is that stiff feeling that leaves you rubbing arms, legs or any other areas that may be 'aching'. However, I have since learned that when a professional from the medical world uses the terms...

"...there is a posibility that you may find that you will feel a little achy approximately 12 - 24 hours after injecting this medication!"...

That, in all honesty should translate as...

"...there is a posibility that you may find that you will feel utter pain, writhe in agony, spend two days bed ridden, along with sweating like a jockey's gonads and shaking like a  jelly and suffer quite a sore throat and mouth approximately 12 -24 hours after injecting this medication!"...

...because, My God, that is exactly how this medication affected me, and this is all before the chemotherapy has kicked in. Saying that I felt like a sack of sh*t is a total understatement. This lasted from the Saturday evening right through to the following Wednesday morning. When it eased dramatically and was completely gone by Thursday morning. Just in time for the Chemo side effects to start taking hold. So far... it is not too bad, other than feeling very weak, tired and uttely lethargic.  After phoning the nurse to ask if the reactions I was having to the Lonquex was 'normal', and being told yes, but unfortunately you are experiencing severe reactions, I was at ease, knowing that I was not on the brink of falling off the planet. I was glad to hear that the nurse will be discussing changing this med, for a milder dose that I will have to inject into myself over a period of five days following 24 hours after the next chemo. Anything, absolutely anything, rather than experience that again.

On Sunday I was due to go to out for the night with the seven women I am supposed to be travelling with to Budapest in December. Friday and Saturday, I felt fine, just tired. I am surprised at how very tired I get and how quickly. It was because of this I was doubtful about going out for the meal. We would be meeting up, going around town before going back to the hotel and getting ready for the meal in Sandymount. I discussed it with Gerry and as he rightly pointed out, well you had this all planned, if you feel you can go ahead do so, don't let this cancer dictate how you live. This is a promise I made to myself a month ago when first diagnosed. The one thing that I wanted to be able to do was to continue to live as normal as possible every day. I decided to go.  I met up with the girls and in all honesty, I am glad I did. Everything was 'normal', fun and laughter was had and I actually managed to thoroughly enjoy myself, despite not having a single ounce of alcohol. See Elaine, it can be done!

There is only one thing I can actually complain about (beside the awful effects of the Lonquex),  My tastebuds! I am such a 'foodie', I love good food, wine and Guinness, however now, I cannot taste a thing. I have stopped drinking tea and coffee as they just taste of warm water. Food, any food, is merely a selection of different textures in my mouth, some not too nice at that either. You want to try eating a banana without tastebuds, Oh Holy God, it is like having a 'slimy lump' in  your mouth that ends up as a nasty globule before you swallow it with a mild retch, food and drink has really changed. I am hoping that this will return to normal as soon as possible. 

This morning, I drove the boys to school. It was good to get up, wash, brush my teeth, dress and, in all honesty, feel really good.  I drove the boys to Kilcoole and then came straight back home again. Today, I decided that I am taking it easy, so Book, Sofa and Bronco (my dog) sleeping on my feet while Sylvester (my cat) sleeps on the back of the sofa behind my head it is. I read my book 'The Silent Girls' by Eric Rickstad for a couple of hours. Brilliant, quiet time and book, you just can't beat it. By the time I had read from chapter 23 through to 42, I decided to take a  break and open up the laptop to update my blog. Whilst I was waiting for the laptop to boot up, I scratched one of those annoying little itches you get on your head, almost like a nerve jumping about. Well lo and behold, as I did this, hair just tumbled from my head, as quickly as falling snow. I just could not believe how fast and how much fell out with me scratching my head. I tilted the keyboard and bundled the hair together. I shook off loose hair and added that to the growing pile. I know that they did say at the hospital that it will fall out between weeks two and three following the first chemotherapy session. It is falling out so fast it is unreal. A quick nip to the loo also confirmed that it was not only from my head. My underwear looked like a spider massacre had occurred. No, not a nice image to have in your head, but unfortunately the reality that is now my life, just think of the money I'm going to save on bikini waxings (not that I was brave enough to actually have one, this is theoretically speaking, ha ha ha) and the energy saved on shaving my legs.  A call has just been made to Julie McGuire. Julie is a friend of my daughter Amy, who has become a successful hairdresser over the past four years. Julie will be coming here to shave my head for me. The one look I will definitely not be supporting, is that of a half blown dandelion. Mind you at this rate, I will only have to go for a drive with my window down and I will be getting out of the car looking like a polished bowling ball.  Well, back to my book I think, Julie will be calling me back to let me know when she can get here. In the meantime, feet up, book and enjoy the peace and quiet. Hmmm.... I had better start thinking of what to make for tea tonight too.... Curry sounds good ;)