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.

Monday, 18 January 2021

Drama Queen

I'm off for a CT scan with a contrast dye. I've been before, several times. Nothing new.

I gown up, one at the front and one at the back. Trussed up like a Christmas turkey. This is the scanner that's like a giant polo mint. A cannula is inserted into a vein and I'm hooked up to a blue dye that will permeate my body and show up any cancer that's lurking. I feel a bit warm. The scan takes place and I'm told to swing my legs over the side of the bed. Crikey - I do feel a bit hot. The radiographer takes me to a side room where I'm to wait for 30 minutes - just in case. As I get to the chair I feel I'm going to faint. Whooosh! Gone! The next thing I know I'm on a trolley with several people talking loudly and running me to A&E - which happens to be next door. Into a resus room. Lots of people shouting things about me. It's like a scene from Casualty. I'm trying to communicate but I can't speak. Do I know where I am? My brain is saying Hospital. My mouth is saying 'H.....H......H....' Oh God - I've had a stroke. Doctors and nurses are doing things to me. I'm being attached to drips, attached to monitors. Then I'm stabbed in the thigh with adrenaline. More monitors . More questions. Why can't I speak? I'm stabbed in the other thigh with more adrenaline. Now I'm shaking. What's happening to me.

Time passes. Jane - you've had an anaphylactic shock. You must be allergic to the blue dye we gave you. Do you have any allergies? No! Not until now. Jane this was very serious - it could have resulted in death. Flaming Nora. I only popped out from work for a quick scan! We're keeping you in for 24 hours as a precaution. What? In a Covid ridden hospital. Overnight. Must be my lucky day.

Gary is informed. He's shocked of course. He rings my employers a Lord and Lady. He reaches his Lordship and explains the situation. His Lordship ring down to the office and tells my colleagues I've been electrocuted in the scan!

I'm such a drama queen!

  

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