On the 28th July 2011, my life changed in one phone call with the simple words - 'yes - it's cancer'. I've created this blog, for the benefit of my wonderful close and extended family; and for my amazing friends around the globe, so I can keep you abreast (!) of my journey.

My diagnosis of 2 x grade 3 (fast growing) tumours - type - 'Triple-Negative' - so called
because it doesn’t
have receptors (proteins on the surface
of cells) for the hormones oestrogen and
progesterone, or a protein called HER2, was shocking. This rare aggressive sub-type of breast cancer, therefore, doesn't respond to common
hormonal treatments, such as tamoxifen or
anastrozole (Arimidex®
) or
trastuzumab (Herceptin®
). Survival rates are considerably lower, than for more common types of breast cancer, especially in years 0 - 5, but on a par 5+ years post treatment.

Fast forward to December 2020. Secondary cancer . Triple negative again but the tumour localised to the scar of the primary cancer. The prognosis is weaker. I am buying myself time - with chemo currency.

This will not be a sad tale - but I hope it will amuse you, inspire you, and most of all allow me to lean on you from afar, as you guide me through what looks like a rocky road ahead.

I can't guarantee a happy ending, but hope to make you laugh to the end.

Thursday, 18 August 2011

Post Op

Awaking in recovery is nothing new. I've been here before. I'm alive! Hurrah! - my first worry over with.
The oxygen mask is swapped for an oxygen nose hose. I feel sleepy again....

The next thing I know I'm being wheeled into the ward. I see Gary in the corner..it reminds me of when I first saw him on our wedding day...a huge sense of relief engulfs me...'he's here' I think, 'eveything will be ok now'.
I know Gary's pleased to see me, as I am him.

Gary unpacks my large holdall & wonders where I've hidden the kitchen sink this time. I'm an ex Brownie/Girl Guide...I like to 'be prepared'. Gary goes back to the sanity of work & I sleep on. Well - that's the plan. I just didn't bank on one farty-pants patient one side and 'need wee-wee' every few minutes the other. This is why I have BUPA...to get my own room in the event of a serious illness/operation..except BUPA/North Devon/My Surgeon is not a good mix & BUPA won't oblige. Tough titty.
I'm in the acute ward. It's noisy, busy, the lights are very bright & don't get turned off at night. I'm not allowed privacy - they need to see me. The staff are wonderful. All of them. The tea lady doesn't mind making one of my posh frothy packet cappuccinos. The nursing staff do everything to make me comfortable - except turn off the lights. I've got a morphine syringe driver - wonderful - I'm legally taking class A drugs....wheeeeeeee!
Talking of wees. My first in a cardboard (yes cardboard) bed-pan goes horribly wrong. At least I get a wash & my own PJ's on. My second, in a commode is highly noisy - no privacy. I insist on the 3rd - at 5am the following morning - that I am unplugged from the machinery & walk myself to the loo.

I take a peek at my boob. It's still there! In a fashion anyway..excellent.

I pretend I'm in BUPA & ask the staff for tea & biscuits. I get the tea & provide my own biscuits. Wish it was morning.
The next day passes with a flurry of doctors nurses, ward rounds, meals, cleaners, discharges, newcomers, emergencies and visitors.

Gary first - I'm glad to see him.
Mum & Dad and my lovely Lily. I need a hug. I want to smell her - breathe her in....oh I have missed her. She's happy, brave & quite content. When it's time to leave - she doesn't cry - see you tomorrow Mummy..I hope she can say that to me a million more times.
Gary again - I'm still glad to see him.
Crikey - my brother's here. My big brother who lives 200 miles away & doesn't do hospitals. I must be ill...I'm honoured. We stand & hug. We are silent - we don't need words - Mum loses it.

Another night's sleep/torture. I'm kitted up this time. I put my Virgin Atlantic eye mask on, my iPod in my ears, settle down in a half up position - can't do left or right. I've got drains on the left & morphine/saline drip on the right.
Eventually it's morning. 'That was a more peaceful night' - I declare to my fellow bed companions - 'No it wasn't' they groaned ' you were snoring really loudly'...ooops...well I was on my back - sorry!
I think I'll go home today.
My Surgeon agrees.
We plan for tea-time.
It works.
Lily comes to take me home.
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