So someone suggested to me that I write a blog about the last few months as a way of catharsis. I was definitely intrigued by the idea so I thought I'd give it a go. I don't know if anyone will read it, after all there must be thousands of blogs by people with breast cancer for the very same reason. But I'll maybe go with it anyway and see what happens.
So I found a lump in my right breast at the end of last year but couldn't deal with it at all: I'd just lost my Dad to Parkinsons disease and was pretty fragile- what with living in an expensive shoe box in Brighton with a total a*** for an upstairs neighbour. So I left it. In the mean time we bought a house and moved in etc and all was well. However, in June, I was in the bath having a wash and realised I couldn't ignore it anymore so I made an appointment for the doctors. The GP told me it was probably fibrous but she had to refer to a specialist anyway. Two weeks later (the absolute maximum time you should wait for a referral of this kind) I was examined at the Breast Care Center in Preston Park. This doctor said the same but he'd have to get some tests done. Unfortunately that day, all the people that do the tests (biopsy, mammogram) had all gone as the clinic was running late. So I was booked in for the next week. The biopsy was horrible, despite the anesthetic and the mammogram was just uncomfortable. I was then told that we had to wait for two weeks for the results. Ok, so I'd put it out of my mind until then. In the mean time I got sent to a private hospital for an MRI as mammograms aren't always reliable on people my age (30) as the tissue is very dense.
The day came when we (my husband naturally came with me) went to get the results. We didn't have that long in the waiting room but got called in by a blonde lady I'd never seen before. She took us in to see the doctor who had referred me for tests and heard the dreaded words. It's Cancer.
You hear people describe the room swinging round you and going hazy but you don't realise that it actually what happens when you get that kind of news. The word was ringing in my ears and I was clinging to my husband's hand. I remember asking what was going to happen. Chemo. Mastectomy. Radiotherapy. When do you ever think that these words would apply to you?
The blonde lady introduced herself and said she was my assigned Macmillan nurse. She took us into another room with a sofa as I thought I was going to faint (I am my mother's daughter!) She got us tea and explained everything: what was happening to my body at that time and about the treatment. I was to have another biopsy to check that it hadn't spread to the lymph nodes and an operation to have two lymph nodes removed. She was so lovely. So positive and calm, giving hugs and saying she'd be there for us both the whole time. And she has, God Bless Her!!
That afternoon, after my husband phoning my brother (so he could go to my mum's and break the news) and both of our jobs, we were sent home in a taxi. I spent the next few days under my purple blanket on the sofa watching endless DVD's.
Then all the cards, flowers etc started coming. I have had such a lot of amazing support; just knowing this has been an amazing tower of strength to me.
It was a bit of a waiting game after that before treatment began- I was given a few weeks to come to terms with it. I had some nice days in that time, despite everything. A weekend with my in laws in which I always love (although a lot of it was spent telling my husband, father in law and brother in law that they weren't allowed to burn the shed that they'd pulled down along with some of their cousins that were also visiting).
My mum was around the whole time, so I wouldn't be on my own while my husband was at work (I was signed off work from diagnosis so I wouldn't have to face people and not worry about commuting). It was a very surreal time, with the odd medical appointment-obviously had to meet the oncologist.
The operation to have lymph nodes removed was the beginning of August, two weeks before the chemo. I have never been so scared as during my chemo induction session. They show you a DVD making sure you know to contact them on any sign of infection to avoid neutropenic death. Right. And they wondered why I looked frightened. I then had a one on one with one of the nurses who explained about what would happen with the chemo, and extras they provide at the Cancer Centre at the Royal Sussex. And yes, I could try the cold cap but yes, I would most likely lose my hair.
This, and the news that the medication I will be on after my mastectomy could bring on early menopause, were the things I found hardest to take. Almost two weeks to the day after my first chemo, my hair started coming out, mainly when washing and brushing. At one point I was sobbing on the floor of the bedroom at my mum's house while she was looking after me, trying to hide the chunks. We tried getting it cut shorter but that didn't help. In the end I went back to the same salon near my house and they shaved it off. They were so kind, it really helped me feel like I was taking back some control by making that decision. I've since invested in some pretty scarves and a some wigs (a couple of pink wigs for party hair and a proper blonde one known as Miranda!).
Another low point was going to an appointment with a fertility specialist due to being on tamoxifen. I think this was the same day as the chemo induction! I hadn't bargained on how difficult it would be sitting in a waiting room with pregnant women surrounded by posters on pregnancy. I had a bit of a melt down, I don't mind admitting. The receptionist was again very kind, putting us in a little side room until the specialist could see us. Give it a few years and we'll know whether babies are possible. I'm still coming to terms with this.
My second round of chemo was delayed by 10 due to the fact that the wound under my arm from the op got infected. We were staying with my husbands family Up North for his brother's engagement party the week before the August bank holiday and I started not to feel right. We got home on the Sunday and by 11pm I knew I wasn't OK. I had shortness of breath and chest pains. So we phoned the chemo inpatients ward and they said phone an ambulance. An hour later we were in A&E. Despite being told chemo patients got taken straight through, we had to wait for some moronic girl who'd got drunk and thrown herself down the stairs because she'd got dumped before we got seen. I got pumped with antibiotics, given blood tests, gave... other samples. Nobody had any idea what was wrong apart from the fact that I had an infection. Somewhere. Over the rest of the night and following morning I saw various specialists who were about as helpful as a chocolate teapot. Someone changed the medication for my colitis (they seemed to think this was the main cause) but I just wanted sleep. However, an oncologist arrived (YAY) who was fab. He had already organised a blood transfusion and delayed my chemo a days as I was very anaemic (shortness of breath) and said the chest pain was due to acid reflux and gave me meds for that as well as a small dose of antibiotics. Got sent home more or less reassured (though admittedly not overly impressed that so few of the A&E staff knew anything about chemo).
However, by the time I went for the blood transfusion at the chemo ward the following Friday I knew I still wasn't right. My wound was red and swollen and I couldn't get my arm comfortable at all. So I showed the chemo nurses who got the Dr on duty (who was on his last day: wanted to prescribe morphine and sort on Monday.) Thank God my mum was there, she wasn't having that! The nurse phoned my Macmillan nurse who said to go round to the Park Centre by 4 and one of the surgeons could have a look. They took the stitches out and prescribed a better dose of antibiotics- an hour later and hey presto!! I was feeling better. No Chemo for another week though.
Those are the main dramas that have thus far occurred. I must admit I have been lucky in terms of symptoms really. I've had no nausea as yet, although my sleep patterns have been affected a bit. And my second type of chemo gives me achy joints and muscles. But hey, now I've only got two more to go so, unless there's more complications (please God there aren't) I should have a break over Christmas before my next op and radiotherapy. But one day at a time!!!
I have had other worries: I keep hearing about secondary cancer but my new GP (who is very cautious and sees me monthly at least) assures me they will be monitoring me for years for anything to worry about. Another op isn't ideal but if it means it gets rid of it, I'm not going to refuse.
I'm told staying positive is a huge help when dealing with cancer, and on the whole I have. But then I've had a wonderful support network. My husband is amazing. If it weren't for him I wouldn't be coping at all. My family (including my in laws), my friends at work and from uni, and a few others, as well as the chemo nurses and my Macmillan nurse are all wonderful (FYI also got to go a wonderful pamper session for cancer sufferers and got some amazing freebies- Look Good Feel Better is an awesome charity!
I think that's more or less it up until now. I imagine it's not hugely entertaining but if it makes one person take action early then that can only be a good thing. We'll see what happens from here. I'm going to keep fighting though!!!!!
