Anytime you suffer a setback or disappointment, put your head down and plow ahead. (Les Brown)

Seven weeks Post Op. 
Oncologist Appointment:

I woke up this morning to the skies looking grey. Gerry woke up and got ready for work. He brought me up my morning coffee and wished be good luck, I had an needle aspiration to go to at three and then the appointment with my Oncologist, Mr Gullo at twenty to four. Gerry sat down on the edge of the bed and told me that all would be well. 

We went on to laugh and smile about little things that had occurred over the last couple of weeks. One of them being the death of the 'BLUE BOMBER' Gerry's little blue Renault kangoo, aptly named as Gerry does anything but 'bomb' it along, in fact when heading to work at the same time, I look in my rear view mirror and swear that he is driving in reverse!  The day after having a brand new water pump fitted at a cost of over two hundred euro the van decided it was time to go to car heaven. Great... Now to search for a new van.  Gerry being a creature of habit, wanted to stay with the Renault kangoo. We searched high and low for a second hand vehicle in our price range to no avail. After a week I found one in a garage in Tallaght. This time a much younger green Renault kangoo van. In fact it is ex-post office. Keeping the same theme and being jokingly derogatory about Gerry's driving we named it the "GREEN BULLET' ... other names that were thrown into the hat by myself and Joe and Jim were:

• The Flying Snot 
• The Green Snot
• The Slow Snot
• The Green Goblin

I'm sensing a new theme here, but no, we decided to keep in with the theme of speed and colour... Poor Gerry, he does have a lot to contend with.... ha ha ha ha....

Anyway, I digress... Gerry got up said bye as he headed down stairs and head out to work. I lay back, picked up my phone and trawled through facebook and whatsapp. Then I decided to pull the duvet up high, snuggle down and have a bit of a lie in. I dozed off and in less than an hour I was woken to the sound of the front door opening. Gerry had just pulled up at his first job of the day, only for the heavens to open and the rain spill down. As most of you will know, Gerry is a window cleaner and this weather does not help as when it rains there is no income. Oh well, nothing other to do than get back in the van and head back home. The rain and gloom was unfortunately setting in for the day. 

Gerry came in and said 'Oh well, I can come to the hospital with you now!' I had already prepared my day and planned ahead. Being the independent person I am, I said, well hon, its a case of going for the aspiration, then meeting with Mr Gullo, which will only be a replay of the appointment with Mr Geraghty,  the appointment where I was told I am technically cancer free and where Gerry and I hopped, skipped and jumped out of the place along with Mum, Dad and my Sister Diane. A celebratory lunch was had too. Excellent :) I told Gerry that because the last time we had an appointment in this clinic we were hours waiting. It would be more help if he remained at home and prepared the tea instead. He agreed and we spend the rest of the day doing our bits and bobs, and I worked on line on the CPD (continual professional development) course I am tutoring on for the PDST (professional development services for teachers).  

Gerry pointed out that it was half past one and the hospital is just over an hour away in normal traffic conditions, my appointment was at three. I headed up for a shower, got changed and headed out of the door. The 'Green Bullet' was parked behind my car, so seeing as Gerry wasn't using it, I was having the experience of motoring off in his new van. I was quite excited about driving it. (I know little things please little minds ha ha ha ha) 

I climbed into the van, pulled out of the drive, waved to Gerry and the boys and headed off to the hospital with my Paul Simon CD blaring out of the speakers. Yup this is going to be ok. I was told when discharged from hospital that I may need a small amount of mild chemo just as a preventative  measure, so being prepared I set off along the N11 for my appointments. I was actually looking forward to the aspiration as the skin on my chest was feeling quite tight with the fluid build up. 

I arrived at the hospital and Eileen, my breast care nurse, saw me virtually immediately. She got on with the aspiration and another 200ml was drained from the left side. Aspiration was not needed on the right. I then headed off to see Mr Gullo. 

I sat in the waiting room of St Anne's Day Care Clinic. The last time I was here I had waited nearly three hours to see Mr. Gullo, so I was not in any hurry and sat back and relaxed. I had a bit of a wait but nothing too long, perhaps half an hour if that. The door opened and a tall, grey haired gentleman called "Elaine Murphy"... 'Oh' I thought, that isn't Mr Gullo... that is Professor Crown. Professor Crown is one, if not, the head honcho when it comes to oncology https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Crown, He is also very much a gentleman and like his colleagues, tells you as it is, answers questions honestly and is somebody in who I am placing all my trust. At the end of the day, he can only do his best for me, along with Mr Gullo and Mr Geraghty (Surgical Oncologist). 

I followed Professor Crown to the examination room. He looked at the surgical sites and then told me to take a seat, he then proceeded to explain to me what had been found in the lab in the tissue that they removed during my bilateral mastectomy.  

"You know that you had residual cancer?" 

"Sorry?"

"You saw Mr Geraghty a couple of weeks ago didn't you?"

"Yes, I did, but I was told that I am technically cancer free"

"Well yes, Technically, you are, the tumours were removed, however there was residual cancer in the tissue that was removed"

"What exactly is residual cancer?"

"There was quite a lot of cancer actually, residual cancer being the cells that are too small to be picked up by any scan, there is no scan in existence that can pick up the tiny cells, but they were found in the lab, also you were lymph node positive. You had 14 lymph nodes, five of which were positive. That is far too many for our liking. Mrs Murphy there is no easy way to say this but  you are going to have to go through some strong chemotherapy again. There is a possibility, well it is more of a probability, that you have residual cancer cells going through your body at this time. We want to throw the book at these cells in order to kill them before they can form into tumours anywhere else in your body. The type of cancer has been confirmed to be triple negative, there was one point that one tumour demonstrated that there may be oestrogen receptive but no, unfortunately it has been confirmed that it is triple negative. "

"Yes, I am aware of that. Is my newly grown hair going to fall out again?"

"Yes it is, there is a concern here Mrs. Murphy you had some severe reactions to the first chemotherapy treatments that you had, and that was strong chemotherapy. You are going to be given four sessions of chemotherapy with a two week interval between sessions. You will be having the lonquex for the white cell regeneration. Following the four sessions, you will then have radiotherapy with a milder chemotherapy that will be given at the same time."

"Professor Crown, can you tell me just straight out, what does this mean?"

"This is actually very serious. Right now Elaine, you have a 50% - 60%+ chance of the cancer returning, after the treatment we are proposing, you will have a 20% - 30% chance of it returning within five  years"

"Will I be given any oral medication to take over that five year period?"

"No, unfortunately there is no medication available that can treat triple negative cancer. We rely solely on chemotherapy to blast it away. I want you to have a heart scan too Elaine, one of the treatments can cause heart problems so we need to ensure that your heart is strong enough before we begin the treatment. I also want you to have a baseline bone scan. There is a chance that this treatment could make you quite ill"

"Professor, I want you to give me everything you can to get rid of any residual cells of cancer. I don't care how strong it is, how ill it makes me or how painful, I just want to get rid of this cancer once and for all!"

"Let me go and speak to Mr Gullo, give me two minutes please!"

Whilst Professor Crown was out of the room, I actually laughed, but laughed to my self in a sort of hysterical manner. Not again. This was not unlike having a new diagnosis all over again. I gathered myself together and was composed by the time he returned to the room.

"Ok, I have spoken to Mr Gullo and we are in agreement that this is the route we will go.  I want you to go and see the nurse now who will arrange the dates and times for the treatments ahead, I want the scans carried out soon!"

I left the examination room, both Mr Gullo and Professor Crown smiled at me, shook my hand and wished me well. I was asked to wait in the alcove down the corridor and the nurse would be with me soon. I went off feeling very strange indeed. Not ill strange but as though I had just walked out of a nightmare. I felt numb, lost and numb. I wasn't waiting too long when the nurse came in to me. She was very good and had been part of the team who looked after me before when I had my chemo. She rubbed my arm and asked if I was alright. I tried to speak but could feel that I was on the verge of crying, I shook my head and asked for a tissue. A couple of tears ran down my face and my nose was starting to run. She got me a tissue and asked what part was worrying me the most. I told her that it was the fear of the cancer returning and having to go through the whole process of chemo again. We just chatted lightly about chemo, lonquex and white cells, scans, and then I mentioned the fact that my veins had all collapsed and that the port had had inserted  previously was not a huge success. I explained why it was not a success and asked if a pik like could be inserted instead. I was told that it would not be a problem at all. Plans were made and I eventually set off out of the hospital. I made my way to the 'Green Bullet".  Once inside the car, I started the engine and made my way out of the underground car park. It was pouring with rain outside. My head was filled with all sorts of stuff. So much so that I couldn't actually tell you any one thing I was thinking of. I was feeling very sick, the sort of sick you feel when you are in big trouble, the sort of sick that makes you want to get into bed and not face the world at all. 

I contacted Suzy to let her know how I had got on as I promised I would and once again she was as supportive as ever. Geraldine from work had been trying to call me, so I sent her a text message. Ger then rang me. She listened and was very strong on the other end of the phone. I made the decision to stop off and get a bottle of wine. After all, why not... my taste buds are going to bugger off in the next week or so and will be gone for some time. Once again I will lose the enjoyment of eating and drinking. So I intend to make the most of it now. 

I continued my drive home, the  rain ran down the windscreen at the same time my tears ran down my cheeks. I have yet another battle to look forward to.  This fight against this nasty disease is nowhere near over. 

I know that everyone says I am strong and I will get through this. I need to be positive, it is only 20 - 30 % chance of it coming back and a 70 - 80% of not coming back. I have a good attitude etc... Well all this may be so, but at the end of the day just a 1% chance of it being able to come back is too high.  I may be strong and positive, etc. but inside right now I feel unbelievably low. I don't feel afraid as such, I'm not afraid of the treatment, I am wary but not afraid, I'm not afraid of dying. I am however afraid of the hurt and pain, the worry and concern that all my family, friends and even some of my colleagues go through seeing me battle.  When I say that I am not afraid of dying, I don't want you all to think that I am giving up. That I am sounding melodramatic. That I am writing myself off. That I am making more of this than there actually is.  I know that this is not cancer as such. These are residual cancer cells that we are attacking before they can take a hold. This cancer has been the cause of me having a bilateral mastectomy. The treatment made me lose my hair. My finger and toe nails are currently in the process of coming off. My taste buds disappeared.  Food, drink and even water were awful to consume. I have suffered an anaphylactic shock, Neutropenia, Buggered up immune system. I have to face all this  again and more than likely a lot more in the months to come. These residual (left over bits of cancer) have the potential to wreak havoc. It is that havoc that I am fighting to keep away. I just hope and pray that I now have the strength to go through the treatment, let alone beat this bloody cancer. 

I ask all who read this to keep me in your prayers when you pray to your God.  I need all the help that praying may bring. Pray too that I re-find my own faith because right now I can't find it anywhere, no matter how hard I try. I will thank you in advance. 

Stay healthy

Stay happy

Enjoy life to the full. 

There is no wonderful feeling as that of a person returning home after a long stay in hospital! Elaine Murphy

Tuesday 2nd Feb 2016

Just on a quick re-cap on my last blog on Fri 22 Jan. After being re-admitted into hospital on Friday 15th January, I was eventually discharged on Tuesday the 2nd of February. Other than the two and a half days I had between the weeks stay of my surgery and my re admittance into hospital with pneumonia and sepsis, I was in total, three days shy of having been in hospital for a month. And what a long time that was. I kept myself busy by trying to solve a 5 x 5 Rubik Cube... and no I have not solved it, in fact in my frustration I have completely buggered it up and have to start all over again! I read, I coloured, I watched the Hobbit on my laptop and I worked for the PDST tutoring on line. However, although I was keeping myself busy, I was missing my family. In this time my Parents and my Sister had come over to help me after my initial discharge after the mastectomy. I ended up missing their visit and they had to visit me in hospital instead. On the night I was taken in, Diane travelled with me in the ambulance, she sat with me all night and all day the next day before sailing home that afternoon. It was awful saying bye bye.

Whilst in Hospital I missed my Mother-in-Law's funeral. In my second week, I had the tragic news that my Father's brother and my wonderful, generous, funny and brilliant Uncle Ted, had so unexpectedly passed away. On the Saturday evening my Cousins and Aunt were planning his birthday meal with him, he was jovial and looking forward to it. On the Sunday morning he peacefully passed away surrounded by many of those who loved him very much. I received a call from Mum that morning saying that she was on the way to the hospital to see my Uncle. She told me that Dad had left earlier after receiving a call from Janet. Things had taken a totally unexpected turn for the worse. Less than 40 minutes later, my brother Roy rang me to tell me that Uncle Ted had died. I could hardly take a breath. No... No .... NOOOO... I remained calm, put down the phone and buried my head in my pillow and once again I had reason to cry, and cry I did.  I had a stabbing ache in my heart, I felt dizzy and sick, I just could not even think. Why now? What is it that is happening?

1. Cancer diagnosis
2. Chemo that goes bloody wrong
3. vicious surgery removing both breasts
4. Death of Mother-in-Law - and funeral missed
5. Pneumonia and Sepsis (hospitalised)
6. Death of my Uncle - another funeral that I cannot attend

If anybody, but anybody tells me once more that: 

"God doesn't give us more than we can carry OR God only gives you this because he knows your strong enough to carry it all!" 

I swear now I will be arrested for GBH or murder. As I pointed out to my neighbour, Joetta over a very enjoyable coffee morning the other day, based on the above analogy, God in his wisdom must think that I am some sort of sodding ninja. 

Look my hair is growing back :)

I was discharged from hospital having spent nearly three weeks on 8 hourly doses of intravenous antibiotics. I had so many blood tests that my veins basically gave up and a pik line was inserted. At least it made having bloods taken and medication given intravenously easier. However it did not make staying in hospital much easier. I was lucky to have visits from colleagues, family, and friends. 

Suzanne visited regularly and kept me laughing, Hazel and Julia hopped on the ferry from Wales and visited me only to have to return again that afternoon. I bet not many have had pals from across the water turn up for hospital visiting time. They had me laughing my head off, Julia with her fear of heights and the endurance test of having to sail in rough seas, and Hazel with her one liners. Julia had asked Hazel... "Where do we go if we start to sink?" Hazel said in a heartbeat "To the bottom!" I was laughing so much it was hard to breath. But their visit along with the visits from Suzy, Geraldine, Orla, Carmel and of course Gerry and my sons Joe and Jim, kept me chipper. Kept me from going totally nuts. I face-timed my Sister, Brother and Parents. I had text messages from other friends and colleagues. Not to mention the face book messages of encouragement and support. All this support from family and friends made me realise that I was not doing this alone that in one way or another this predicament was affecting a lot of people in a lot of different ways. Hospital staff were amazing, and I realised that I must be getting older as the doctors were certainly looking so much younger... ahem!!! ;-) 

A member from Mr Gullo's team - the Chemotherapy Oncologist came to see me to tell me that it is highly likely that I will be having three more sessions of chemotherapy. The reason being that the tumours they removed had not shrunk as significantly as they wanted them to. As the cancer had spread to the lymph nodes there is a slight danger that stray cancer cells could have escaped. Therefore, Chemotherapy may be administered in order to kill any cells - should there be any. Following this I will be given Radiotherapy. I have an appointment to see Mr Salib the Radiotherapy Oncologist to arrange these sessions. These will take place daily over a five week period. Monday to Friday with a break each weekend. I will be staying in St. Luke's week days and returning home at weekends during this treatment. Once that this treatment is over, I will be at the end of treatment for cancer. It will then be a case of six monthly check ups. I am basically cancer free now, due to the fact that I had aggressive surgery. The rest of the treatment is preventative and precautionary. If things start going my way, this should be the end of my cancer diagnosis. Fingers Crossed. 

I arrived home on the Tuesday. It was great to sit in the lounge in my own home, have a drink or something to eat whenever I wanted it, flick through the tv channels, sleep in my own bed, all the home comforts that I all to often take for granted. Most of all it was great to see the surprise and happiness on the face of my Sons when I picked them up from school with Gerry en route home.

I have been waited on hand and foot. When I left hospital, the nurse had come in to speak to Gerry, the boys and  myself outlining at just how important it is that for the next number of weeks there is no housework, cooking or lifting to be done, or I am in danger of causing a lot of damage to myself after the surgery I have had. Further more, I cannot drive. Now that is a real sickener. I find it very difficult to remain indoors day in and day out. I might not be going anywhere in particular, but having the freedom of not being able to drive taken away from me makes me want to go out all the more... It must be the rebel in me. 

Thank you Ann Phelan and all at the PDST

On Wednesday I had a lovely bouquet of flowers delivered to me from the PDST. That evening I had my first glass of wine in four months. I had forgotten just how lovely a glass of wine tastes. I have to say, I did have more than one glass and yup enjoyed them. I had a lovely visit from Joetta on Thursday. We laughed and chatted and put the world to rights over coffee and cakes.  On Friday I had to return to hospital for a needle aspiration. A needle is inserted into my chest and fluid is drawn away from the wounds. Unfortunately with having had lymph nodes removed, the fluid that would normally have been drained away by these nodes now gather and spread into all the cavities left from having had a bilateral mastectomy. It is not very pleasant and all, but has to be done. At some point my body will realise that it has to find another way to naturally drain this excess fluid. So until then it is a case of having to have needle aspirations. Whilst I was going through the needle aspirations, back at home in Wales, Janet,  my Father and Mother, my Siblings and extended Family and Friends were  burying my Uncle Ted. I was sickened not to be able to say my final farewell to him, however it was not to be and I quietly shed tears on my way home. Later that evening we treated ourselves to take  away food  and once again I had two glasses of wine, that I drank over the course of the evening. We watched a movie and I marked work that came in on the course that I am tutoring.

Wine back on the menu.

Today is a very grey, wet and windy day. It is a day where the only thing you can really do is remain indoors. I am using this time to update my blog, the cathartic activity that has kept me strong throughout the whole frightening experience of having a diagnosis of cancer. I have gained a lot of strength from sharing my blog with you all. Your messages of support and messages from others who have been or are currently going through similar experiences as myself has been a huge source of strength. I cannot thank you all enough. I will be updating my blog over the next couple of months until the radiotherapy is finished and I can then spend time recovering from the medication that 'cures' the cancer. After that, I hope to be able to get on with my life. Boring and routine appeals to me at the moment. 

Last August 2015, just before the schools started back in September, I was visiting my family in Wales. I was sitting talking to my Mum  and telling her how I was becoming a little jaded in my career, that I felt that I should start looking for something different, and I can recall as clear as day the following words that I said to her...

"Do you know something Mum? I have a very strong feeling that things are going to be different for me this next academic year. There is going to be a big change regarding my life and my career. I haven't a clue what it is, but I have a huge feeling that whatever it is, it is going to change my life so much, and hopefully for the better!"

... Little did either of us realise that within a space of five weeks of that statement, I would be diagnosed with a very aggressive form of breast cancer and that 15 weeks after that I would have had both my breast removed and facing further aggressive treatment. Little did we know that this would be the cause of a change in my life. A dreadfully drastic change. Little did we know that there would be two deaths that we would have to cope with. Little do we know what lies ahead. I think that is a good thing. Would any of us be able to cope if we knew what was facing us in the future?

I am dedicating this latest blog to the memories of Ted Botfield (1939 - 2016). Beloved Uncle to Elaine, Diane and Roy Jnr, Brother of Roy Snr and Brother-in- Law to Glenys, great uncle to Amy, Joe and Jimmy, Andrew, Katie, Ella and Ffion. Father to Karen, Vicky, Adrian, Susan and Alan. Husband to Janet. Son of the Late Kathleen and George Botfield (My Nan and Grandad),  And to the memory of Jane Murphy (1926 - 2016) my quiet and gentle Mother- in-Law, Wife of the late Jim Murphy, devoted mother to Seamus, Anne, John, Marie, Mary and Gerry (My loving husband), Grandmother to Amy, Joe, Jim, Sandy, Darren, Gill, Mark, Paul, Chris, Danielle, Aaron and Barry. May you both rest in Peace. The world is a very different and sadder place without you both. 

My late Uncle Ted with his Mum and my Nana Kitty Botfield.

My late Mother in Law, Jane with my youngest son Jimmy.