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.

Sunday, 15 January 2012

Toasties

It's Sunday
It's very sunny but bitterly cold.....one of my favourite weather combinations.
On Thursday I was treated to a day out with the Oldies. Mum and Dad kindly took me to Exeter for the bone scan. Setting out at 10.30am we arrived in good time to find an illusive parking space. Presenting ourselves at the Nuclear Medicine Dept, at 12noon, I was taken straight into the treatment room. An attempt was made to get a line in my hand - which failed (ouch!) - so the PICC line in my arm was used to administer the radioactive substance. Didn't hurt one bit, and I had no reaction to it. 
We were free to leave the hospital - to return at 2pm.
A new Waitrose had opened nearby..and being very intrigued (and because I don't think I've ever been in 'posh/expensive' Waitrose - not very popular up North..or in North Devon for that matter) - we went to sample their fayre. A lovely lunch - I must say. Very posh. And clean!  And expensive! We had a nosey round the store. Wished I'd got a spare few quid so I could do a big shop there. Everything seemed sooo nice. It would be equivalent to doing your weekly shop in Marks & Spencer's...and I don't know any normal person who does that. Do you?
Back to the department. No waiting as usual. 
Into a new room - with what can only be described as a giant sandwich toaster. I lie down on the bed and get strapped in gently. I can choose music...I look through the CD collection they give me & come to the conclusion that this machine must be frequented by a lot of old people! A compilation of soul music is my choice....and then have to resist the temptation to jiggle & jive to the beat! I'm sucked into the toaster, and the plates are manoeuvred within an inch of my nose. Luckily I'm not claustrophobic. Over the next 20 minutes I'm very very slowly posted back out of the toaster. It's fine. Really easy. Then the toaster is turned 45 degrees and positioned near my ribs to get a full view of my upper cavity. There...all done...nicely cooked. Ham & cheese toastie anyone?
The results will be definitely be ready for this Thursday 19th. 
Did I mention it's my LAST SCHEDULED CHEMO?
I see Dr Scratchcard anyway before each chemo session so she will be able to give us the news.
How do I feel about it?
Well. It's weird. With everything in life, you always imagine how you are going to feel about a situation - but quite often the reality is very different. All the way through this cancer journey of mine, I've felt quite calm and orderly. 
What will be, will be. 
My view is that I can't change the diagnosis. That's already been set within me. All I can control is how I deal with each new step. I try and apply my practical brain to each problem.  I've already checked out my Life Assurance for instance. And yes they should pay out if it's bad news on Thursday. In my practical brain - that would make me happy, because I'll be satisfied that the mortgage is paid off and we'll have a few quid left in the bank to enjoy. All before I'm dead! Excellent! You don't often get the chance to enjoy your Life Assurance..it normally goes to those left behind. 
See...every cloud has a silver lining! 
Now, I realise this talk freaks some of you out - but if you know me at all...you know this is how I cope. 
I am Mrs Organised. 
Before I started chemo..I went through my linen cupboard, sorted it all out, labelled the shelves single/double/king-size/pillowcases etc..so if I got too ill...whoever was looking after me could easily identifty the sheets. 
See. Practical head! 
If it's good news on Thursday...I shall of course be very very relieved. Not just for me, but for my very worried family and concerned friends.
So.
Chemo number 6 has come around really quickly this time.
And I'm filled with dread.
In all honesty, I haven't recovered yet from number 5.
I've been incredibly tired. I didn't even make it to the day of pampering last Friday at the Hospice. Ironic really. Too tired to to go for a relaxation day? 
Still - there'll always be another.
And I got out of swimming again today with Gary & Lily.
Every cloud DOES have a silver lining!
Hahaha xx
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