...ho hum ho hum...

Blow me down, I'm so freaking exhausted after 14 radiotherapy treatments already that I feel I have aged another 20 years!!
Yesturday my son and I spent the entire day in Acute Oncology for sharp shooting pains up my right arm, where I had surgery and lymph nodes removed, into the right side of my chest, where I have a history of blood clots in my lung.

From acute oncology (Level 4) I was wheeled to radiology for an ultrasound by a contractor who works part time at the hospital. If he hadn't told me that I would've guessed it anyways especially as I was pretty sure I heard we were going to Level 2 but we took the lifts to Level 6 and waited about 5 minutes for someone with an access security card to let us down to Level 5 only to arrive and wait another 5 minutes to then be told we actually had to go to Level 2, wait another few minutes to be let in the lifts again it all made for a bit of Benny Hill comedy.
Anywho, the ultrasound came back clear of any other clots (thank goodness) and I have been scheduled in for other tests in the next couple of weeks because the sharp pains are not a side effect of radiotherapy.
As I lay on the table for the ultrasound I was instantly taken back 8 months ago to the day of diagnosis after 'the' mammogram and 'that' ultrasound.
I became quite emotional thinking back to where this all began and shed some quiet tears.

Three more weeks and I begin Herceptin.

A day in the life....

I've had my CT similiation for radiotherapy where they measured me up and gave me my tattoos so that everyday for about a month I get zapped in the exact spot to make sure that any remnants of cancer from the original site that may have been missed with chemo (how could that be possible!?) is done and dusted.
As I lay there through the huge donut I took stock of what chemo had put me through over the past 5 months - boy you wouldn't wish it on your worst enemy!

I had an anxiety attack on my way to work this morning. I almost turned around and came back home. When you have cancer and have been through chemo and had to deal with the side effects for what seems like eternity, the normal and the familiar can seem so foreign and lonely.
I took a trip of a lifetime that I never booked or planned.
Everything that could have gone wrong, certainly did.
Surrounded by uncertainty and fear I travelled with many others on this unplanned trip, others who knew exactly what it was like to get a bum wrap deal from life.
I had been with my new found friends on this trip for so long that today I was too scared to face normality without the crutch of my 'cancer' friends.
Tears rolled freely down my puffy face as I thought of all the terminally ill victims I had met on my trip and wished them another day with their loved ones.
This part of my trip has been completed, thank you to every beautiful person who travelled this part with me. Stay with me as I continue my trip.

As you can read I survived today, as one does.

Tears roll freely down my face tonight as I say to myself, I am a breast cancer survivor.

Deja vu

So one week ago today I was sitting outside oncology an hour and half before my chemo appointment grinning from ear to ear gearing to get my last chemo done and dusted. As predicted I felt rotten without too much delay shortly after.
3 days after my last chemo I'm being wheeled back to Ward 64 for a 5 day stay. Deja vu.
Ward 64 itself is actually dotted with lovely nurses who you welcome to your bedside at midnight and sparrows fart to do your 'obs' because of their nightingale bedside manners. It's also dottered with young looking doctors who I would imagine entered medical school fresh out of nappies. I had a gorgeous looking Asian doctor who looked all of 20 trying to find out why I was there. In the middle of my heart wrenching explanation, she snorted up a honking load of snot without blinking an eye and looked at me as if to say 'continue please'...um it didn't quite go with the beautiful skin, exquisitely applied make up, expensive perfume, the trendy hair do and the clothes.
As expected you get chatting to your roomies about your medical rap sheet (but you wait for the green light from them first) and listen intently to theirs for hope and answers.
Majority of my rap sheet conversations have always highlighted positives in my own experience.
Be careful when you talk to anyone with life threatening diseases that you don't unconsciously talk them into negativity by assuming you know what they are feeling.
When someone told me that they know I would be finding hospitals depressing I understood that was their take. Hospitals are not depressing, it can be people's attitudes.
One of my roomies unfortunately started grating on me, the second to last day of my stay. That was after hearing her rap sheet told to every nurse, every visitor and even our visitors time and time again.
Swapping rap sheets is almost an art because you must be able to do it without the 'pity me' tune. Plus then you have to remember that there are only curtains to block out the doctors version of your situation - as I discovered can be totally different to what this roomie was rapping to us!
Hosptial food leaves much to be desired and I am now officially petrified of needles but generally I feel safe and know I am being fussed over with good intentions. I mean there really is no other place where I can sit in a cafe over a coffee or browse through mags in a shop in my blue slippers, striped pj's and pink gown completely bald without being put in a straight jacket and arrested.
Roomie A started to lose her hair today. I know the emotions that go with it because I have been there and so it was great to be able to share with her mostly because she wanted to know. Not dwelling on it Roomie A booked an appointment with the wig place to shave it off and grab her wig.
Roomie B was given bad news today that no cancer patient wants to hear but her optomistic attitude was one of well I won't be hanging around here for a decision I got things to do! I've lived a good life and I will continue to do so.
Roomie C I hope will be able to rap a more positive one to others she engages with in life.
Roomie D, that's me. I turned 40 last month and decided to postpone it until next year. I can't wait!!!

169 days since my diagnosis

And reflecting back just a wee bit, life has been bloomin' stark mad.
One GP visit, one mammogram, one ultrasound, one core biopsy, one mastectomy, one breast reconstruction, fourteen breast clinic consultations, one chemotherapy orientation, one chemo oncologist consultation, one radio oncologist consultation, one istotope injection, one bone scintigram, one head, chest and lung x-ray, four oncology assessments, four chemo treatments, one post operation physio consultation, two lymphatic clinic visits, one acute oncology visit followed by six days of being laid up in a hospital bed with neutropenic fever, hundreds of lures inserted in me veins, that many more canulars tucked in there just for good measure, the poppin' of approximately fourty two steriod tablets, approximately twenty plus blood tests, one bald head and an extra freaking ten kilograms later it suddenly hit home that this was just the blooming beginning and I seriously don't know whether to laugh or scream!!!
So lately the last thing I've wanted to hear is 'oh well it's just about finished' or 'I know of so and so they had cancer but they are fine' because I am not even halfway through my entire cancer treatment and after 169 days from diagnosis one is always coming to terms with the blasted inconvenience of it all.
I'm going back to 'one day at a time' with the full support of my family and friends who I am very very grateful for and taking more chill pills along the way and I know they will be very very grateful that I do!!
Love and peace....S:-)

A person not an object

On my way to the hospital for blood tests this afternoon I was sitting at the lights waiting for a group of four males who were crossing. I knew that one was 'gawking' and didn't think anymore of it. But when he obviously alerted the other three to 'gawk' at the 'bald woman' they all walked past staring and then continued to stare to the point of absolute freaking rudeness. I got my back up and my natural reaction was to give them all my beautifully manicured one finger salute to which they had the audacity to find offensive...hahahaha..!
It is not the first time that I have experienced this reaction from strangers and nor will it be the last.
My afternoon got better as the lovely checkout operator up at Foodtown who didn't stare but asked me why I was bald (my hat off to her for her bravery) and it got even better because the lady in the stationery store recognised me from last weeks local rag write up and acknowledged me.
After accepting the diagnosis I decided after shaving my hair off that I would not cover up my condition so people could see that cancer can happen to your mother, your daughter, your sister, your aunt, your friend, your work colleague, your manager, your neighbour or the person that works in the same building as you.
I don't shy away from talking about cancer as awareness must continue. I don't have hang ups about having cancer either as those 'why me' conversations stopped shortly after acceptance. I am not afraid of cancer any longer because I choose life.
I am afraid that people will forget and only remember cancer each year in October and never acknowledge people with cancer as someone's mother, daughter, sister, aunt, friend, work colleague etc etc etc.

Since my article was printed last week I've received much correspondence from many genuine well wishers. Your encouragement, support and prayers will carry me on the days where I just can't be bothered, thank you so very much.