Contrary to what people might think, I’m not one for putting myself in the spotlight, especially with something so personal. Cancer had other ideas, and well, this might help someone else, so here goes…..this is My Story……
My journey started one evening over Xmas curled up on my sofa watching TV. I suddenly felt an ache at the side of my right breast. Not thinking too much about it, I rubbed it (as u would with any ache or pain) and I felt a lump. Not one for checking my breasts regularly, I still had checked them enough over the years to be fairly sure that wasn’t there before! I felt the same spot on the other breast and didn’t find another lump. Thought it was odd, and was slightly nervous, but by that stage the ache had stopped. My husband, Mark, came home a short time later and I mentioned it to him. He felt it, but didn’t think it was anything to worry about and that it had probably always been there. And to wait and see if the pain came back. I put it out of my head and got on with enjoying Xmas with my family.
On New Years Eve I felt the pain again this time it lasted longer and was accompanied by a worse pain in my lower arm (nearly as if it was in the bone). That was it, I had to go to the doctor! With it being New Years the Doctor’s Surgery wasn’t open until the Tuesday, so I put it out of my head and got on with my life for the next few days. On the Tuesday morning I rang the surgery and got an emergency appointment for 10am. I went in, seen my GP (she was lovely - new, I hadn’t met her before), and she put me at ease. She examined me and could feel the lump, but thought it was something that wasn’t a problem. She wrote out the referral letter there and then and looked up private clinics and wrote their numbers down, saying I’d get an appointment before the end of the week since I’d chosen to go private. I went home, filled Mark in (still thinking it was a cyst) and made the call. The clinic offered me an appt at 7 that evening. I told Mark that I’d go myself, after all it was nothing more than a cyst (how many times had I told myself that at this stage?).
I headed off that evening and made the hour long journey to Belfast. In I went at 6.55pm. At 7pm a lovely nurse came in to the waiting room and called my name and escorted me in to see Mr Kennedy. He was a nice man who sat me down and asked me what the problem was. He told me to get changed and he would examine me. He kept the conversation light as he felt around and asked me questions. He said he would do a needle test (what the hell was that?!!) And he appeared with a needle which he thrust in and out of my breast repeatedly. I thought he was going to puncture my lung!!! He didn’t get much that he could test, but he put it on a petri dish. He told me he was sending me for a mammogram, and maybe an ultrasound. He decided on both. So I was escorted round the corridor to a second waiting room. I didn’t have to wait long and had had my mammogram 15 minutes later. Next I was escorted into another room where I met one of Mr Kennedy’s team who started my ultrasound. I could see white specs on the screen and a lymph node which was enlarged. Mr Kennedy appeared round the curtain and had a quick chat with the doctor. He touched my foot and said when I was finished he and I would have a catch-up. My, everyone was so attentive. This must be what you get when you pay for it, I thought! I had another needle test on the lymph node (horrendous pain!!) and as I left the room Mr Kennedy appeared and led me round to his room. He told me to take a seat and the breast care nurse moved a chair over to sit tight beside me, I looked round and thought in a panic ‘eh, WHAT are you doing??!!!’ I looked round at Mr Kennedy and he started talking. Honestly I have no idea what he said, I just remember him telling me within a couple of sentences and the help of a diagram, that it was at least pre-Cancer, but with there being a lump I should expect further tests to confirm it was invasive breast cancer. ‘WHAT, is he saying to me, I thought?? Cancer???’ The ground opened up. ‘Béibhinn! Mark! OMG, how can I tell them????!!!!’ He was talking about being transferred to his NHS clinic, and that I would need biopsies on the lump and the additional specs visible (suspected DCIS – ‘ductal carcinoma in situ – the abnormal cells). They would be done that week and he would operate on me before the end of the month. ‘Really, that quick?!! I thought‘
Then he was going on about 10yr survival rates being 80% now and BANG! That was it, the blow.......I wouldn’t see Béibhinn to 15........this couldn’t be happening! (As it happened I had misunderstood him and he was actually telling me that there was a 80% chance that I’d be alive in 10 years, not that I’d be likely dead in 10 years! I realised this a while later). The rest is a blur. They wanted to get me a cup of tea, but I just wanted to get out of there! So I left. I had walked in at 7pm with a cyst and I left at 8.10pm with Cancer!!!
Getting in to the car I knew I had to make the worst call,......to Mark. I phoned, no answer....I’ll start driving I thought. At some point Mark rang back. I told him to take me off speaker phone so Béibhinn wouldn’t hear. I have no idea what I said to him, but I told him it wasn’t good and it was cancer and I needed an operation, chemo and Radiotherapy! I asked him to have Béibhinn in bed by the time I got home - I couldn’t face her.......
An hour later I pulled into my driveway - how could I face Mark? I didn’t have a choice.......here goes. He was upstairs and came into the kitchen behind me. He just looked at me and hugged me. I was trembling. I think he was too.... We sat at the kitchen table and I relayed all the information ‘he kept saying “f*** me”’ they were the only words that came to him I think..... With nothing else to say, we went to bed. I clung to him - how could I sleep???
The next morning, with little sleep, I got up and pretended everything was normal - well as far as my 5 yr old was concerned it was! At some point Mark and I sat down and talked about some practical stuff. We chatted again about what was going on and I remember asking Mark ‘How are you feeling?’ He just looked at me - oh that look, I’ll never forget it - and he burst into tears, saying ‘My hearts in bits’ and held out his arms for me to hug him - I sat on his knee both of us holding on to each other, for god knows how long. I shed a little tear, but not that much. How many times did I re-live those moments in the kitchen - I’ve lost count - it was a defining moment that I’ll never forget - it wasn’t the night before that our world shattered, it was then, in the kitchen - my god this REALLY WAS happening.....
The next week went by in a blur – biopsy, telling my immediate family, then another appointment with my consultant. He confirmed that it was in fact a grade 3 invasive tumour and that my operation would take place on 25th January, with chemo and radiotherapy to follow – 8 months of treatment. With the plan in place I started to tell friends and asked my brother to tell the rest of my family – what a blow this would be – ANOTHER cousin with cancer…………I wasn’t the first….
After a torturous couple of weeks, I was finally going to hospital for my operation. I just had one more thing I had to do – tell Béibhinn. That was a traumatic experience. Thankfully my Breast Care Nurse had given us a book called ‘Mummy’s Lump’ which was designed as a way to tell your children what was going on and what to expect, at a level they could understand. Mark and I sat her down a few evenings before and read the book with her. When we got to the part about the operation she got upset (not what we wanted!), but it turned out she was afraid she’d have to have the same – when we assured her, that no it was only mummy and I’d be away for a couple of nights at hospital, she was fine and asked could she go back to watching the iPad! Well that had gone better than we expected!!
I walked into the Ulster Hospital on Tuesday 24th January, ready for my operation the following day. Mark and my friend Nicola were there with me. One of my surgeons came round later that night to talk through what was going to happen and let me ask questions. I had little sleep that night – nerves. I had a lovely message from someone I knew wishing me well and telling me to ‘keep calm and get the body intruder out!’ what a great way to put it – I laughed!
I was taken to the Breast and Endocrine Centre the following morning for my last mammograms and to have guide wires inserted into my breast – I looked like a telegraph pole with all the wires I had sticking out of me! When I arrived back to the ward, Mark and my brother Liam were waiting – my nerves were in tatters. The staff were lovely, taking me down to theatre. After being wheeled into theatre, I looked across and seen my surgeon, just as the anaesthesiologist stuck a needle in my hand. I don’t think I even counted to 3 and I was gone – out like a light. Next thing I remember there was a light above my head and a voice. I opened my eyes and looked to my side and there was my surgeon, poking at my side – OMG, I had woken up mid-operation!!!! Wait, no, this wasn’t the same room – this was recovery!!! Phew – surgeon was just checking on me! God was I thirsty and SORE! They gave me morphine – bad idea! Now my nose was itching like crazy. Oops, I forgot, I’m allergic to morphine! It seemed that I was the longest in recovery and I think I was – my blood pressure was low and it took a while to recover. Once I returned to the ward, Mark arrived, but I was too sleepy to talk, so he set about updating my family and friends. I got out the next day and went home to recover. Within a week I was much better, although the use of my arm was still limited. Family and friends rallied round – just as well and I couldn’t even wash my hair myself! Boy I was sick of sleeping on my back!
Two weeks later, I met with Mr Kennedy for my full results – the tumour was grade 3, 2cm triple negative (not so good news); my margins were “well clear”, so further surgery was not necessary (good news); tests on my sentinel lymph node were negative, so the cancer hadn’t spread to the lymph nodes (the BEST news!). He told me the most important thing now was to start chemo and soon – the cancer cells had been multiplying fast, so they needed chemo to kill any rogue cells. Chemo was to commence in March with radiotherapy to follow in August. I met with my Oncologist a couple of weeks later to discuss my treatment. He explained each drug and asked if I wanted to know my risk of the cancer returning – I hesitated – I already knew my risk was higher than a lot of breast cancer patients. He seen my hesitance and suggested that he not tell me, but that I could come back to him at any time and he would talk me through it. He did add that even before chemo and radiotherapy, I was already on the winning side of it – that’s all I needed to know!
I got my picc line put in the following week – little did I know, the pain in the ass that thing would be! It was painful and problematic from the start! On a lighter note, Eilish, a friend from school, was one of my nurses that day – it was so good to see a friendly face – we managed a good giggle! Unfortunately I wouldn’t see her when I was getting chemo.
My 1st chemo was scheduled for the 14th March. I arrived at the MacDermott Unit in the Ulster Hospital at 9am with Mark and Nicola for my wig fitting – found the perfect one quite easily as it turned out and was able to bring it home with me that day. I chatted with one of the doctors, they checked my bloods and I was ready to go – all good so far…….
I sat in the patient’s chair and the nurse began to inject the chemo drugs into my picc line. After a minute or so I began to feel a pain in my chest……. Everything was halted as they checked me over. They concluded that I was having a panic attack. It hit me then - this was real - the tears followed – “I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this……” I heard myself sobbing to Mark, as he hugged me close. The MacDermott staff were brilliant and calmed me down and gave me something to relax me, so I was able to continue. The nurse explained that they weren’t expecting me to be sick on these drugs, so if I was sick, I needed to phone the Help Line right away. Fast forward 7 hours and BOY was I sick – I couldn’t stop! The Helpline told me to ring Out of Hours, who brought me in to Daisy Hill (What a trip there and back – sick bag in hand!) to give me anti-sickness via injection. I was only sick once after that, but I couldn’t eat and could barely drink for days. MacDermott Unit changed my anti-sickness tablets, but bed was the only place I could be for a week. After that I picked up a bit and got out and about, until I developed a cough and my temperature went up one night and I had to pay another visit to out of hours to get an antibiotic – I was nearly on first name basis with the out of hours doctor at this stage!
True to my oncologist’s word, exactly 2 weeks to the day my hair was coming out in clumps. I decided enough was enough and text Mark – tonight was the night – he was going to have to shave my head. Mark, Mum and I sat down at the kitchen table with a drink each – we needed alcohol! – Mark set to work. I put my head in my hands – I couldn’t bare to look – why did this have to happen?? After a wobble, I pulled myself together and we actually had a laugh – Mum said to Mark “Mark, you’re actually quite good at this!” He laughed and responded “Well, it’s not as if I can mess it up, is it – it all has to go!!!”
My journey started one evening over Xmas curled up on my sofa watching TV. I suddenly felt an ache at the side of my right breast. Not thinking too much about it, I rubbed it (as u would with any ache or pain) and I felt a lump. Not one for checking my breasts regularly, I still had checked them enough over the years to be fairly sure that wasn’t there before! I felt the same spot on the other breast and didn’t find another lump. Thought it was odd, and was slightly nervous, but by that stage the ache had stopped. My husband, Mark, came home a short time later and I mentioned it to him. He felt it, but didn’t think it was anything to worry about and that it had probably always been there. And to wait and see if the pain came back. I put it out of my head and got on with enjoying Xmas with my family.
On New Years Eve I felt the pain again this time it lasted longer and was accompanied by a worse pain in my lower arm (nearly as if it was in the bone). That was it, I had to go to the doctor! With it being New Years the Doctor’s Surgery wasn’t open until the Tuesday, so I put it out of my head and got on with my life for the next few days. On the Tuesday morning I rang the surgery and got an emergency appointment for 10am. I went in, seen my GP (she was lovely - new, I hadn’t met her before), and she put me at ease. She examined me and could feel the lump, but thought it was something that wasn’t a problem. She wrote out the referral letter there and then and looked up private clinics and wrote their numbers down, saying I’d get an appointment before the end of the week since I’d chosen to go private. I went home, filled Mark in (still thinking it was a cyst) and made the call. The clinic offered me an appt at 7 that evening. I told Mark that I’d go myself, after all it was nothing more than a cyst (how many times had I told myself that at this stage?).
I headed off that evening and made the hour long journey to Belfast. In I went at 6.55pm. At 7pm a lovely nurse came in to the waiting room and called my name and escorted me in to see Mr Kennedy. He was a nice man who sat me down and asked me what the problem was. He told me to get changed and he would examine me. He kept the conversation light as he felt around and asked me questions. He said he would do a needle test (what the hell was that?!!) And he appeared with a needle which he thrust in and out of my breast repeatedly. I thought he was going to puncture my lung!!! He didn’t get much that he could test, but he put it on a petri dish. He told me he was sending me for a mammogram, and maybe an ultrasound. He decided on both. So I was escorted round the corridor to a second waiting room. I didn’t have to wait long and had had my mammogram 15 minutes later. Next I was escorted into another room where I met one of Mr Kennedy’s team who started my ultrasound. I could see white specs on the screen and a lymph node which was enlarged. Mr Kennedy appeared round the curtain and had a quick chat with the doctor. He touched my foot and said when I was finished he and I would have a catch-up. My, everyone was so attentive. This must be what you get when you pay for it, I thought! I had another needle test on the lymph node (horrendous pain!!) and as I left the room Mr Kennedy appeared and led me round to his room. He told me to take a seat and the breast care nurse moved a chair over to sit tight beside me, I looked round and thought in a panic ‘eh, WHAT are you doing??!!!’ I looked round at Mr Kennedy and he started talking. Honestly I have no idea what he said, I just remember him telling me within a couple of sentences and the help of a diagram, that it was at least pre-Cancer, but with there being a lump I should expect further tests to confirm it was invasive breast cancer. ‘WHAT, is he saying to me, I thought?? Cancer???’ The ground opened up. ‘Béibhinn! Mark! OMG, how can I tell them????!!!!’ He was talking about being transferred to his NHS clinic, and that I would need biopsies on the lump and the additional specs visible (suspected DCIS – ‘ductal carcinoma in situ – the abnormal cells). They would be done that week and he would operate on me before the end of the month. ‘Really, that quick?!! I thought‘
Then he was going on about 10yr survival rates being 80% now and BANG! That was it, the blow.......I wouldn’t see Béibhinn to 15........this couldn’t be happening! (As it happened I had misunderstood him and he was actually telling me that there was a 80% chance that I’d be alive in 10 years, not that I’d be likely dead in 10 years! I realised this a while later). The rest is a blur. They wanted to get me a cup of tea, but I just wanted to get out of there! So I left. I had walked in at 7pm with a cyst and I left at 8.10pm with Cancer!!!
Getting in to the car I knew I had to make the worst call,......to Mark. I phoned, no answer....I’ll start driving I thought. At some point Mark rang back. I told him to take me off speaker phone so Béibhinn wouldn’t hear. I have no idea what I said to him, but I told him it wasn’t good and it was cancer and I needed an operation, chemo and Radiotherapy! I asked him to have Béibhinn in bed by the time I got home - I couldn’t face her.......
An hour later I pulled into my driveway - how could I face Mark? I didn’t have a choice.......here goes. He was upstairs and came into the kitchen behind me. He just looked at me and hugged me. I was trembling. I think he was too.... We sat at the kitchen table and I relayed all the information ‘he kept saying “f*** me”’ they were the only words that came to him I think..... With nothing else to say, we went to bed. I clung to him - how could I sleep???
The next morning, with little sleep, I got up and pretended everything was normal - well as far as my 5 yr old was concerned it was! At some point Mark and I sat down and talked about some practical stuff. We chatted again about what was going on and I remember asking Mark ‘How are you feeling?’ He just looked at me - oh that look, I’ll never forget it - and he burst into tears, saying ‘My hearts in bits’ and held out his arms for me to hug him - I sat on his knee both of us holding on to each other, for god knows how long. I shed a little tear, but not that much. How many times did I re-live those moments in the kitchen - I’ve lost count - it was a defining moment that I’ll never forget - it wasn’t the night before that our world shattered, it was then, in the kitchen - my god this REALLY WAS happening.....
The next week went by in a blur – biopsy, telling my immediate family, then another appointment with my consultant. He confirmed that it was in fact a grade 3 invasive tumour and that my operation would take place on 25th January, with chemo and radiotherapy to follow – 8 months of treatment. With the plan in place I started to tell friends and asked my brother to tell the rest of my family – what a blow this would be – ANOTHER cousin with cancer…………I wasn’t the first….
After a torturous couple of weeks, I was finally going to hospital for my operation. I just had one more thing I had to do – tell Béibhinn. That was a traumatic experience. Thankfully my Breast Care Nurse had given us a book called ‘Mummy’s Lump’ which was designed as a way to tell your children what was going on and what to expect, at a level they could understand. Mark and I sat her down a few evenings before and read the book with her. When we got to the part about the operation she got upset (not what we wanted!), but it turned out she was afraid she’d have to have the same – when we assured her, that no it was only mummy and I’d be away for a couple of nights at hospital, she was fine and asked could she go back to watching the iPad! Well that had gone better than we expected!!
I walked into the Ulster Hospital on Tuesday 24th January, ready for my operation the following day. Mark and my friend Nicola were there with me. One of my surgeons came round later that night to talk through what was going to happen and let me ask questions. I had little sleep that night – nerves. I had a lovely message from someone I knew wishing me well and telling me to ‘keep calm and get the body intruder out!’ what a great way to put it – I laughed!
I was taken to the Breast and Endocrine Centre the following morning for my last mammograms and to have guide wires inserted into my breast – I looked like a telegraph pole with all the wires I had sticking out of me! When I arrived back to the ward, Mark and my brother Liam were waiting – my nerves were in tatters. The staff were lovely, taking me down to theatre. After being wheeled into theatre, I looked across and seen my surgeon, just as the anaesthesiologist stuck a needle in my hand. I don’t think I even counted to 3 and I was gone – out like a light. Next thing I remember there was a light above my head and a voice. I opened my eyes and looked to my side and there was my surgeon, poking at my side – OMG, I had woken up mid-operation!!!! Wait, no, this wasn’t the same room – this was recovery!!! Phew – surgeon was just checking on me! God was I thirsty and SORE! They gave me morphine – bad idea! Now my nose was itching like crazy. Oops, I forgot, I’m allergic to morphine! It seemed that I was the longest in recovery and I think I was – my blood pressure was low and it took a while to recover. Once I returned to the ward, Mark arrived, but I was too sleepy to talk, so he set about updating my family and friends. I got out the next day and went home to recover. Within a week I was much better, although the use of my arm was still limited. Family and friends rallied round – just as well and I couldn’t even wash my hair myself! Boy I was sick of sleeping on my back!
Two weeks later, I met with Mr Kennedy for my full results – the tumour was grade 3, 2cm triple negative (not so good news); my margins were “well clear”, so further surgery was not necessary (good news); tests on my sentinel lymph node were negative, so the cancer hadn’t spread to the lymph nodes (the BEST news!). He told me the most important thing now was to start chemo and soon – the cancer cells had been multiplying fast, so they needed chemo to kill any rogue cells. Chemo was to commence in March with radiotherapy to follow in August. I met with my Oncologist a couple of weeks later to discuss my treatment. He explained each drug and asked if I wanted to know my risk of the cancer returning – I hesitated – I already knew my risk was higher than a lot of breast cancer patients. He seen my hesitance and suggested that he not tell me, but that I could come back to him at any time and he would talk me through it. He did add that even before chemo and radiotherapy, I was already on the winning side of it – that’s all I needed to know!
I got my picc line put in the following week – little did I know, the pain in the ass that thing would be! It was painful and problematic from the start! On a lighter note, Eilish, a friend from school, was one of my nurses that day – it was so good to see a friendly face – we managed a good giggle! Unfortunately I wouldn’t see her when I was getting chemo.
My 1st chemo was scheduled for the 14th March. I arrived at the MacDermott Unit in the Ulster Hospital at 9am with Mark and Nicola for my wig fitting – found the perfect one quite easily as it turned out and was able to bring it home with me that day. I chatted with one of the doctors, they checked my bloods and I was ready to go – all good so far…….
I sat in the patient’s chair and the nurse began to inject the chemo drugs into my picc line. After a minute or so I began to feel a pain in my chest……. Everything was halted as they checked me over. They concluded that I was having a panic attack. It hit me then - this was real - the tears followed – “I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this……” I heard myself sobbing to Mark, as he hugged me close. The MacDermott staff were brilliant and calmed me down and gave me something to relax me, so I was able to continue. The nurse explained that they weren’t expecting me to be sick on these drugs, so if I was sick, I needed to phone the Help Line right away. Fast forward 7 hours and BOY was I sick – I couldn’t stop! The Helpline told me to ring Out of Hours, who brought me in to Daisy Hill (What a trip there and back – sick bag in hand!) to give me anti-sickness via injection. I was only sick once after that, but I couldn’t eat and could barely drink for days. MacDermott Unit changed my anti-sickness tablets, but bed was the only place I could be for a week. After that I picked up a bit and got out and about, until I developed a cough and my temperature went up one night and I had to pay another visit to out of hours to get an antibiotic – I was nearly on first name basis with the out of hours doctor at this stage!
True to my oncologist’s word, exactly 2 weeks to the day my hair was coming out in clumps. I decided enough was enough and text Mark – tonight was the night – he was going to have to shave my head. Mark, Mum and I sat down at the kitchen table with a drink each – we needed alcohol! – Mark set to work. I put my head in my hands – I couldn’t bare to look – why did this have to happen?? After a wobble, I pulled myself together and we actually had a laugh – Mum said to Mark “Mark, you’re actually quite good at this!” He laughed and responded “Well, it’s not as if I can mess it up, is it – it all has to go!!!”
A few days later, Béibhinn came into my room and I was wearing a wee hat in bed. She hadn’t seen me yet without my wig so I wasn’t sure how she would react. But she went over to my wig stand and carried it over and says “Mummy, here you go. Here’s your wig.” I told her that I had no hair left (Mark had already spoken to her about what was happening) and maybe she didn’t want to look at my head at the minute, so maybe she wanted to go out of the room? She studied me silently for a moment then jumped up on the bed and said “Mummy, it’s ok, I’m not going to laugh or anything” She gives me a big hug and continues “It’ll be ok Mummy. Go ahead…”……….I managed to keep it together until she left the house later – don’t know how I managed that. What a complete star – 5 years old and my little girl knew exactly what to say and do. I was a VERY proud Mummy that day! While I was having a cry to myself after Béibhinn left the house for her party, the door knocked and a girl I knew (that had been sending me messages all along), was at the door with a big bunch of flowers – she remembered me saying that my hair would be gone in 2 weeks and had remembered the dates and thought I could do with a wee lift that week. That made me cry MORE! She cried too when I told her what Béibhinn had done. I couldn’t get over her thoughtfulness that day – still can’t! You know those proud mummy moments you get during Christmas plays etc….. well – this will be one of my proudest mummy moments EVER.
2nd chemo was different – thankfully my bloods were fine and chemo was able to go ahead – I was given a syringe driver this time with my anti-sickness drugs in it – OMG – COMPLETE GAMECHANGER! I was only sick once this time – sickness wasn’t my problem this time round – it was something FAR more embarrassing!!! Less said about that the better! Aside from that my picc line was still playing up – the district nurses were having trouble getting blood out of it each week when they came to clean it. It was also moving about in my arm as the weekly measurements were changing. I also had developed blisters inside my mouth which was making eating difficult.
When I went for chemo No. 3, the nurses hadn’t been able to get blood out of my picc line the day before, so I, along with my friend Pauline (my escort that day), didn’t know what was going to happen. I was sent for an x-ray to check if the line had moved, which showed it was twisted into a curl in my arm. That meant no chemo until it was replaced. I had been told that there is only one thing worse than getting chemo and that was not getting it, but on this occasion I was DELIGHTED as it meant I could make it to my friend Eilionora’s wedding that week – Yippee!!!! I got my picc line replaced and while the replacement was better than the first, it was still painful. So chemo No 3 took place the following week. It was much the same as No 2 – I was up and out of the house in 4 days!
Next up was No. 4 – the ‘bad one’ as I had been continually warned by my oncologist. This time Janis rode shotgun. After a good chat with my oncologist about the new drug reducing my risk of Cancer returning by a further 2.5% (think he was secretly delighted that he was talking to people that were able to fully understand what he meant by ‘risk’ – not often he gets 2 statisticians in the office!), I said to him ‘I want to go for this – 2.5% is very important to us Statisticians’. Think he wasn’t sure what way to take that, but he laughed. He was lovely, but I think as I was always so bubbly he thought there was air getting in! lol He did continually warn me that this would ‘floor me’ but said he would give it to me and see how I got on and would re-think ‘if the wheels come off the trolly’. So off I went to get hooked up to my new chemo cocktail! I had a great wee catch-up that day with Janis (and Michael!). As bad as chemo was, it was a great opportunity to catch up with my friends! As usual the craic was great with the nurses – one of the nurses – Lisa – was always so bubbly and with all the problems I encountered (there were A LOT!), it had actually become more a hilarity. She used to greet me with a roll of the eyes saying ‘it would have to be you, wouldn’t it?! What’s wrong this time?!!’ But BOY did I look forward to seeing her. She is so suited to that role – I never really knew what a ‘perfect chemo nurse’ was but really, it is her – Carlsberg don’t do chemo nurses, but if they did…. It got to the point where I used to greet her with “Lisa, you can commence the eye rolling any time now…..” and then describe the latest disaster!
Anyway, everything went well until Day 3 – OMG the joint pain was UNREAL! I wasn’t able to sleep more than 15 mins at a time – my feet and legs were in horrific pain. Painkillers were crap! By Sunday I had started to feel unwell – I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something just wasn’t right. I continually checked my temperature and it was fine, but by the next day, (in the space of 20 mins) it shot up from 37.2 to 38.4 – ALERT! That might not seem that high, but anyone who has experienced chemo knows that over 38 degrees is NOT GOOD AT ALL! I phoned the Helpline, who told me to hang up, get in the car and go straight to A&E. I knew I needed IV anti-biotics within the hour! The traffic was mental in Newry as it was Bank Holiday Monday and I was cutting it close when I arrived at Daisy Hill. I was ushered straight in and had a doctor taking bloods out of one arm while a nurse was hooking my other arm up to IV anti-biotics – they weren’t waiting for the blood results to come back – this was SERIOUS (my temperature had jumped again!). Once all the anti-biotics were in my system, I was given pain relief – it was the business!
In the meantime my bloods had come back and my white blood cell count was at 0.2 ……..it should be at 11! I wasn’t going anywhere – neutropenic sepsis meant more than a few days in hospital. I felt so ill. Into the bargain the skin on the inside of my mouth was burning off – it hurt to eat or chew. All I could manage was ice-cream or custard. For days my temp jumped up and down with no explanation, while my mood just went down. Visitors helped and my Whatsapp groups were on fire with people trying to keep my spirits up. The staff were all lovely, but as I started to slowly feel better I just wanted home – I was in there a week and a half in the end – if the needle fairies came at me once more for bloods I think I would have reached for them – I had no veins left!! Finally I got home – Béibhinn greeted me at the door with pom poms and a girlie night – Heaven! Loads of cuddles! That lifted my spirits – just as well as my eyelashes and eyebrows were beginning to fall out…
I wasn’t expecting my next treatment to go ahead as planned, but amazingly my bloods came back perfect – obviously Daisy Hill had done a fantastic job and looked after me so well. I went in to see my oncologist again when I arrived and announced “Well, I’ve had some ‘fun’ since the last time I seen you! In your words ‘The wheels well and truly came off the trolley’” He did some laughing! A lonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng chat followed and he explained that while my chemo could go ahead, he would have to reduce the dose – my body just couldn’t cope with a full dose and it was just too risky. He reduced it by 25% saying that it wouldn’t reduce the overall effectiveness of my treatment. So off I went again to get No 5.
Lisa was there again rolling her eyes at my latest calamity in Daisy Hill. All my physical (and can’t even begin to describe the mental – come to that later) complications are too lengthy, boring and yucky to go into, but I shall name a few:
• A picc line which did not want to be in my arm
• I’m allergic to nickle – it’s in the clip that holds the picc line in place
• I’m allergic to iodine – the district nurses discovered this when they used it to clean my picc line and I lifted off the chair screaming!
• Oh, and I’m also allergic to continued use of plasters – who knew?!!!
• My picc line moved and twisted inside my arm and had to be replaced
• Sickness
• Joint pain
• Mouth Ulcers
• Skin and nails falling off
• Hair / eyelashes / eyebrows falling out
And all that before I get to the breast infection….. I could go on, but you get the picture. I’m not the only person to have experienced these things, but even Lisa had to admit, few experience ALL the possible side effects and a few more added in! Yes – it would have to be me! Lol
Chemo No 5 was a much ‘better’ experience than No 4. I was given much stronger pain relief which really helped and I still had my syringe driver thanks to Lisa telling me I was a ‘pukey puke’ and I should insist that I still needed it if they tried to take it away. I still had to go up and down the stairs on my bum, but the pain was under control at least. By this round of chemo, I could really notice my energy levels depleted. Practically speaking, it may have made sense to go up and down on my bum, but I was so out of breath I would have had to stop halfway to sit down for a rest, so it was just easier. “Flip sake” I thought “there’s 90 year olds with more energy and more mobile than me!”
No 5 passed without infection – YEA! I was up, wig on and out of the house by Saturday – well for an hour and then I was back home for a lie down. And so, on I trundled, going out and about when I was fit to and resting when I wasn’t.
Finally it was nearly time for my last chemo – 2 days before, I was looking in the mirror and noticed baby fluff beginning to grow on my head – OMG – my hair was returning! P-A-R-T-A-Y! The day before chemo I went for my radiotherapy prep appointment. Dr Henry was lovely – I hadn’t met him before. It’s as well he was nice, as he was drawing lines and circles on my breast! As we chatted he asked when I was finishing chemo. “Tomorrow” I announced proudly. “Awh” he said “you’ll be stopping for a glass of bubbles on the way home then!” Then he paused and said “Actually, you’ll not feel like it….Have it the next day instead!” I laughed! I had never once been told not to drink on chemo, but the truth is you just couldn’t face alcohol. But here was a lovely wee doctor actively encouraging it! I actually couldn’t stomach a drink until Saturday, but I enjoyed a wee glass then!
At last the day had arrived – my last chemo! I had watched so many other people in the MacDermott Unit skip into chemo on their last day – boy had I been pure green with envy! I had stayed at Nicola’s the night before (as I always did before chemo), so off we both went. All bloods were ok – PHEW! Hurdle 1 – DONE. I sat quietly as I was hooked up to the drip. After the nurse said she would take my picc line out. In truth that was what I was looking forward to THE MOST. If they hadn’t taken it out I think there would have been a meltdown then and there! I had joked for months about having a picc line extraction party cos I absolutely HATED THAT THING! PAIN IN THE ASS (or the arm as the case might be). My district nurses also hated it – it caused them no end of drama – week in, week out.
Again chemo wasn’t as bad as No 4 – I had a little pain, but not too bad. I did manage to pick up another infection, but it could be managed with anti-biotics at home following a quick visit to the hospital – as I walked from the car park to the MacDermott Unit I was SOOOO out of breath – I actually had to say to Mummy for her to slow down – I couldn’t keep up – and she was 77 and the SLOWEST walker in the world lol
Within 10 days, I was more back to myself (well as much as a chemo patient could be). I had planned dinner with my friends Pauline and Delma and I had no jeans to wear, so off I went to Primark for an emergency ‘I’m carrying a lot of fluid’ pair and thought I’d pick up a few tops while I was at it. I went to the changing rooms to try some things on and tried on a nice top. It didn’t really suit, so I decided to try the next one on………….oooops, there was a problem – I couldn’t get it off – the more I tried, the more it seemed stuck to me! The hot sticky day wasn’t helping the situation. I started to panic – what was I going to do??? There was no one with me to help and I didn’t want to have to explain the whole story when the wig came off in the tussle if a stranger helped. I kept trying. At one point I threw the wig off on the floor and just sat down and cried! What was I going to do??? Finally I thought I’d just rip it and go out and pay for it. But I couldn’t even rip it! Who knew Primark clothes were so durable? I kept trying and thought I’d give it one last go before going out and saying I wanted to pay for it but wear it home and low and behold I managed SOMEHOW to get it off! Let’s just say the jeans were bought, but nothing else. The problem I had discovered was I was accidentally trying on the size below what would fit me.
Off I went home and bawled my eyes out – REALLY? THIS on top of everything else???- I had no hair, no eyelashes, no eyebrows, no nails and was blown up like a Michelin Man – WHY did I have to get stuck in a top on top of it all?! Mark came home and got an awful shock – he couldn’t understand why I was so upset, I mean in the scheme of things it wasn’t that important (true), but it really was the straw that broke the camel’s back. A few cuddles from Mark and a dinner with the girls and relaying my story to my cousin and aunt a few days later (almost causing her to bust her stitches after major surgery) and I was finally able to laugh about it – only just!
Next up was a visit to the Genetics Clinic, but I had some homework to do first – my family history of cancer – right back to great aunts and uncles. My Mum’s side was a lengthy list, but digging into my dad’s side of the family my aunt unearthed that my granda’s two sisters had died of Breast Cancer. ‘Bingo’, I thought! That must be how this happened. The Genetic Counsellor looked at my history and agreed that she would test me – it was possible I was carrying the BRCA1 or BRCA2 gene. It would be a long wait for the results, and in the meantime I had radiotherapy to get on with.
Radiotherapy was a walk in the park compared to chemo, but it wasn’t without its problems. They picked up that I had a breast infection that I must have had for months, which led to me having a polar biopsy to rule out inflammatory breast cancer – thankfully it was clear and I could get on with recovering from treatment, in between what seemed like an endless stream of appointments.
The next few months was taken up with appointments, recovery and getting out and about. I was aware that I had coped well enough with everything, but really I had just got the head down and got on with it and I had to deal with it sometime, so I thought I would organise some counselling for myself – what a waiting list though! By November my mood was low and at last my genetic results were back and were all clear – what a shock. I hadn’t expected that result (as good as it was!), but how had this happened if I wasn’t a BRCA carrier????? I would never know – what a blow! How the F*** had this happened?
What followed was a torturous few months of counselling and anti-depressants. People don’t realise the emotional impact of cancer and then surviving it. I mean, how come I got to survive when others don’t (not that I was complaining) I had survivor’s guilt, not helped by the fact that a family member had been diagnosed and died within 2 months of the disease – he had a child around Béibhinn’s age – horrendous experience. But no matter how much it had affected me, it was nothing compared to what his family were going through. It had never occurred to me that what someone goes through after cancer treatment was as bad as the treatment itself – it’s just you can’t see it – it’s all in the mind.
Fast forward a few months and I’m going for my annual check-ups – mammogram and oncology review. I asked my Oncologist if there was anything in particular I should be doing and he replied “Yes – go home and forget about us!” I replied by saying “I’m trying, but you lot keep dragging me back for appointments!” He did some laughing and agreed!
My mammogram results took ages to come back – I had just packed Mark off on a week’s holiday for his friend’s 40th when the phone call came – they could see something in the other breast – WHAT?????? This couldn’t be happening!! Not AGAIN! I never told anyone except a few family members that were with me when I got the call. 2 weeks of hell followed and then the biopsy. They showed me the scans and I could see what looked like pre-cancer specs on the screen. The biopsy was an ordeal, but a week later the results were back – it was benign!! HAL-LE-LU-YA! There were bubbles that night!
So where am I now?
I’m still off work - fatigue, confusion, focus and memory problems remain a problem, but they will sort themselves out eventually (who knows when!). I’m ready to move out of the ‘I’m sick’ phase and into the ‘I used to be sick’ phase - I need it; my whole family and friends need it! So I’m looking forward. I have no idea what will happen in the future, but as I reflect, as BAD as Cancer was, was there any good to come out of it? The answer is, yes there was - suddenly things that used to be a problem evaporated, without me even having to do anything.
So, what did I learn?:
• I actually have a nice shaped head! Who knew??!!! lol
• Short hair looks better on me than I thought it would.
• I didn’t learn who my friends were - I learned I had already picked the RIGHT friends! (They will probably never know what they did for me...)
• I had my priorities right all along, Cancer just cemented them.
• It’s ok to look after yourself sometimes and be selfish - in fact it’s necessary!
• My family are THE BEST - everyone probably says that, but it’s true. I wouldn’t be where I am now without their love and support.
2nd chemo was different – thankfully my bloods were fine and chemo was able to go ahead – I was given a syringe driver this time with my anti-sickness drugs in it – OMG – COMPLETE GAMECHANGER! I was only sick once this time – sickness wasn’t my problem this time round – it was something FAR more embarrassing!!! Less said about that the better! Aside from that my picc line was still playing up – the district nurses were having trouble getting blood out of it each week when they came to clean it. It was also moving about in my arm as the weekly measurements were changing. I also had developed blisters inside my mouth which was making eating difficult.
When I went for chemo No. 3, the nurses hadn’t been able to get blood out of my picc line the day before, so I, along with my friend Pauline (my escort that day), didn’t know what was going to happen. I was sent for an x-ray to check if the line had moved, which showed it was twisted into a curl in my arm. That meant no chemo until it was replaced. I had been told that there is only one thing worse than getting chemo and that was not getting it, but on this occasion I was DELIGHTED as it meant I could make it to my friend Eilionora’s wedding that week – Yippee!!!! I got my picc line replaced and while the replacement was better than the first, it was still painful. So chemo No 3 took place the following week. It was much the same as No 2 – I was up and out of the house in 4 days!
Next up was No. 4 – the ‘bad one’ as I had been continually warned by my oncologist. This time Janis rode shotgun. After a good chat with my oncologist about the new drug reducing my risk of Cancer returning by a further 2.5% (think he was secretly delighted that he was talking to people that were able to fully understand what he meant by ‘risk’ – not often he gets 2 statisticians in the office!), I said to him ‘I want to go for this – 2.5% is very important to us Statisticians’. Think he wasn’t sure what way to take that, but he laughed. He was lovely, but I think as I was always so bubbly he thought there was air getting in! lol He did continually warn me that this would ‘floor me’ but said he would give it to me and see how I got on and would re-think ‘if the wheels come off the trolly’. So off I went to get hooked up to my new chemo cocktail! I had a great wee catch-up that day with Janis (and Michael!). As bad as chemo was, it was a great opportunity to catch up with my friends! As usual the craic was great with the nurses – one of the nurses – Lisa – was always so bubbly and with all the problems I encountered (there were A LOT!), it had actually become more a hilarity. She used to greet me with a roll of the eyes saying ‘it would have to be you, wouldn’t it?! What’s wrong this time?!!’ But BOY did I look forward to seeing her. She is so suited to that role – I never really knew what a ‘perfect chemo nurse’ was but really, it is her – Carlsberg don’t do chemo nurses, but if they did…. It got to the point where I used to greet her with “Lisa, you can commence the eye rolling any time now…..” and then describe the latest disaster!
Anyway, everything went well until Day 3 – OMG the joint pain was UNREAL! I wasn’t able to sleep more than 15 mins at a time – my feet and legs were in horrific pain. Painkillers were crap! By Sunday I had started to feel unwell – I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something just wasn’t right. I continually checked my temperature and it was fine, but by the next day, (in the space of 20 mins) it shot up from 37.2 to 38.4 – ALERT! That might not seem that high, but anyone who has experienced chemo knows that over 38 degrees is NOT GOOD AT ALL! I phoned the Helpline, who told me to hang up, get in the car and go straight to A&E. I knew I needed IV anti-biotics within the hour! The traffic was mental in Newry as it was Bank Holiday Monday and I was cutting it close when I arrived at Daisy Hill. I was ushered straight in and had a doctor taking bloods out of one arm while a nurse was hooking my other arm up to IV anti-biotics – they weren’t waiting for the blood results to come back – this was SERIOUS (my temperature had jumped again!). Once all the anti-biotics were in my system, I was given pain relief – it was the business!
In the meantime my bloods had come back and my white blood cell count was at 0.2 ……..it should be at 11! I wasn’t going anywhere – neutropenic sepsis meant more than a few days in hospital. I felt so ill. Into the bargain the skin on the inside of my mouth was burning off – it hurt to eat or chew. All I could manage was ice-cream or custard. For days my temp jumped up and down with no explanation, while my mood just went down. Visitors helped and my Whatsapp groups were on fire with people trying to keep my spirits up. The staff were all lovely, but as I started to slowly feel better I just wanted home – I was in there a week and a half in the end – if the needle fairies came at me once more for bloods I think I would have reached for them – I had no veins left!! Finally I got home – Béibhinn greeted me at the door with pom poms and a girlie night – Heaven! Loads of cuddles! That lifted my spirits – just as well as my eyelashes and eyebrows were beginning to fall out…
I wasn’t expecting my next treatment to go ahead as planned, but amazingly my bloods came back perfect – obviously Daisy Hill had done a fantastic job and looked after me so well. I went in to see my oncologist again when I arrived and announced “Well, I’ve had some ‘fun’ since the last time I seen you! In your words ‘The wheels well and truly came off the trolley’” He did some laughing! A lonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng chat followed and he explained that while my chemo could go ahead, he would have to reduce the dose – my body just couldn’t cope with a full dose and it was just too risky. He reduced it by 25% saying that it wouldn’t reduce the overall effectiveness of my treatment. So off I went again to get No 5.
Lisa was there again rolling her eyes at my latest calamity in Daisy Hill. All my physical (and can’t even begin to describe the mental – come to that later) complications are too lengthy, boring and yucky to go into, but I shall name a few:
• A picc line which did not want to be in my arm
• I’m allergic to nickle – it’s in the clip that holds the picc line in place
• I’m allergic to iodine – the district nurses discovered this when they used it to clean my picc line and I lifted off the chair screaming!
• Oh, and I’m also allergic to continued use of plasters – who knew?!!!
• My picc line moved and twisted inside my arm and had to be replaced
• Sickness
• Joint pain
• Mouth Ulcers
• Skin and nails falling off
• Hair / eyelashes / eyebrows falling out
And all that before I get to the breast infection….. I could go on, but you get the picture. I’m not the only person to have experienced these things, but even Lisa had to admit, few experience ALL the possible side effects and a few more added in! Yes – it would have to be me! Lol
Chemo No 5 was a much ‘better’ experience than No 4. I was given much stronger pain relief which really helped and I still had my syringe driver thanks to Lisa telling me I was a ‘pukey puke’ and I should insist that I still needed it if they tried to take it away. I still had to go up and down the stairs on my bum, but the pain was under control at least. By this round of chemo, I could really notice my energy levels depleted. Practically speaking, it may have made sense to go up and down on my bum, but I was so out of breath I would have had to stop halfway to sit down for a rest, so it was just easier. “Flip sake” I thought “there’s 90 year olds with more energy and more mobile than me!”
No 5 passed without infection – YEA! I was up, wig on and out of the house by Saturday – well for an hour and then I was back home for a lie down. And so, on I trundled, going out and about when I was fit to and resting when I wasn’t.
Finally it was nearly time for my last chemo – 2 days before, I was looking in the mirror and noticed baby fluff beginning to grow on my head – OMG – my hair was returning! P-A-R-T-A-Y! The day before chemo I went for my radiotherapy prep appointment. Dr Henry was lovely – I hadn’t met him before. It’s as well he was nice, as he was drawing lines and circles on my breast! As we chatted he asked when I was finishing chemo. “Tomorrow” I announced proudly. “Awh” he said “you’ll be stopping for a glass of bubbles on the way home then!” Then he paused and said “Actually, you’ll not feel like it….Have it the next day instead!” I laughed! I had never once been told not to drink on chemo, but the truth is you just couldn’t face alcohol. But here was a lovely wee doctor actively encouraging it! I actually couldn’t stomach a drink until Saturday, but I enjoyed a wee glass then!
At last the day had arrived – my last chemo! I had watched so many other people in the MacDermott Unit skip into chemo on their last day – boy had I been pure green with envy! I had stayed at Nicola’s the night before (as I always did before chemo), so off we both went. All bloods were ok – PHEW! Hurdle 1 – DONE. I sat quietly as I was hooked up to the drip. After the nurse said she would take my picc line out. In truth that was what I was looking forward to THE MOST. If they hadn’t taken it out I think there would have been a meltdown then and there! I had joked for months about having a picc line extraction party cos I absolutely HATED THAT THING! PAIN IN THE ASS (or the arm as the case might be). My district nurses also hated it – it caused them no end of drama – week in, week out.
Again chemo wasn’t as bad as No 4 – I had a little pain, but not too bad. I did manage to pick up another infection, but it could be managed with anti-biotics at home following a quick visit to the hospital – as I walked from the car park to the MacDermott Unit I was SOOOO out of breath – I actually had to say to Mummy for her to slow down – I couldn’t keep up – and she was 77 and the SLOWEST walker in the world lol
Within 10 days, I was more back to myself (well as much as a chemo patient could be). I had planned dinner with my friends Pauline and Delma and I had no jeans to wear, so off I went to Primark for an emergency ‘I’m carrying a lot of fluid’ pair and thought I’d pick up a few tops while I was at it. I went to the changing rooms to try some things on and tried on a nice top. It didn’t really suit, so I decided to try the next one on………….oooops, there was a problem – I couldn’t get it off – the more I tried, the more it seemed stuck to me! The hot sticky day wasn’t helping the situation. I started to panic – what was I going to do??? There was no one with me to help and I didn’t want to have to explain the whole story when the wig came off in the tussle if a stranger helped. I kept trying. At one point I threw the wig off on the floor and just sat down and cried! What was I going to do??? Finally I thought I’d just rip it and go out and pay for it. But I couldn’t even rip it! Who knew Primark clothes were so durable? I kept trying and thought I’d give it one last go before going out and saying I wanted to pay for it but wear it home and low and behold I managed SOMEHOW to get it off! Let’s just say the jeans were bought, but nothing else. The problem I had discovered was I was accidentally trying on the size below what would fit me.
Off I went home and bawled my eyes out – REALLY? THIS on top of everything else???- I had no hair, no eyelashes, no eyebrows, no nails and was blown up like a Michelin Man – WHY did I have to get stuck in a top on top of it all?! Mark came home and got an awful shock – he couldn’t understand why I was so upset, I mean in the scheme of things it wasn’t that important (true), but it really was the straw that broke the camel’s back. A few cuddles from Mark and a dinner with the girls and relaying my story to my cousin and aunt a few days later (almost causing her to bust her stitches after major surgery) and I was finally able to laugh about it – only just!
Next up was a visit to the Genetics Clinic, but I had some homework to do first – my family history of cancer – right back to great aunts and uncles. My Mum’s side was a lengthy list, but digging into my dad’s side of the family my aunt unearthed that my granda’s two sisters had died of Breast Cancer. ‘Bingo’, I thought! That must be how this happened. The Genetic Counsellor looked at my history and agreed that she would test me – it was possible I was carrying the BRCA1 or BRCA2 gene. It would be a long wait for the results, and in the meantime I had radiotherapy to get on with.
Radiotherapy was a walk in the park compared to chemo, but it wasn’t without its problems. They picked up that I had a breast infection that I must have had for months, which led to me having a polar biopsy to rule out inflammatory breast cancer – thankfully it was clear and I could get on with recovering from treatment, in between what seemed like an endless stream of appointments.
The next few months was taken up with appointments, recovery and getting out and about. I was aware that I had coped well enough with everything, but really I had just got the head down and got on with it and I had to deal with it sometime, so I thought I would organise some counselling for myself – what a waiting list though! By November my mood was low and at last my genetic results were back and were all clear – what a shock. I hadn’t expected that result (as good as it was!), but how had this happened if I wasn’t a BRCA carrier????? I would never know – what a blow! How the F*** had this happened?
What followed was a torturous few months of counselling and anti-depressants. People don’t realise the emotional impact of cancer and then surviving it. I mean, how come I got to survive when others don’t (not that I was complaining) I had survivor’s guilt, not helped by the fact that a family member had been diagnosed and died within 2 months of the disease – he had a child around Béibhinn’s age – horrendous experience. But no matter how much it had affected me, it was nothing compared to what his family were going through. It had never occurred to me that what someone goes through after cancer treatment was as bad as the treatment itself – it’s just you can’t see it – it’s all in the mind.
Fast forward a few months and I’m going for my annual check-ups – mammogram and oncology review. I asked my Oncologist if there was anything in particular I should be doing and he replied “Yes – go home and forget about us!” I replied by saying “I’m trying, but you lot keep dragging me back for appointments!” He did some laughing and agreed!
My mammogram results took ages to come back – I had just packed Mark off on a week’s holiday for his friend’s 40th when the phone call came – they could see something in the other breast – WHAT?????? This couldn’t be happening!! Not AGAIN! I never told anyone except a few family members that were with me when I got the call. 2 weeks of hell followed and then the biopsy. They showed me the scans and I could see what looked like pre-cancer specs on the screen. The biopsy was an ordeal, but a week later the results were back – it was benign!! HAL-LE-LU-YA! There were bubbles that night!
So where am I now?
I’m still off work - fatigue, confusion, focus and memory problems remain a problem, but they will sort themselves out eventually (who knows when!). I’m ready to move out of the ‘I’m sick’ phase and into the ‘I used to be sick’ phase - I need it; my whole family and friends need it! So I’m looking forward. I have no idea what will happen in the future, but as I reflect, as BAD as Cancer was, was there any good to come out of it? The answer is, yes there was - suddenly things that used to be a problem evaporated, without me even having to do anything.
So, what did I learn?:
• I actually have a nice shaped head! Who knew??!!! lol
• Short hair looks better on me than I thought it would.
• I didn’t learn who my friends were - I learned I had already picked the RIGHT friends! (They will probably never know what they did for me...)
• I had my priorities right all along, Cancer just cemented them.
• It’s ok to look after yourself sometimes and be selfish - in fact it’s necessary!
• My family are THE BEST - everyone probably says that, but it’s true. I wouldn’t be where I am now without their love and support.