The C Word

26/10/2015

Some of you may wonder why I would watch a movie like I did on Friday, and then on Sunday watch on TV 'The C Word'.  I had never heard of Lisa Lynch and her blog.  Sure, I wanted to see how accurate the story writers got it.  That is until the end of the TV programme and found out hers was a true story.  

But I now have learnt a couple of things about me (again).

When I started writing my public post on Facebook, my real aim was to educate and share, help others.  I had had no close experience with breast cancer and it was a shock to learn the hard and fast way.  I have made contact with another lady recently diagnosed and it so reminds me of the information overload and having to make huge decisions in a matter of days.  We are all looking to make the right decision and, in my case, I stuck with the tried and true medical system in place.  I have not been disappointed in my decision.  In saying that, I am sure there is a lot more I can do to help myself.  Maybe I am in denial and thinking I'm okay, just carry on; maybe I just don't want to put in the effort because it takes effort and energy and I'm tired of it all.

Getting back to the writing though, so to write about my cancer life and share my experience, was what I wanted to do and was my 'public duty' or so I thought.  After watching 'The C Word', I suddenly realised that, in essence, this is how I process.  I need to write, whether I share it with the world or not is up for debate, but on the whole, my feedback from sharing has been positive and encouraging. I need to share to have a purpose (yes, Lisa Lynch used the same word 'purpose').

I am also looking for validation.  That my thoughts are okay; they are my new normal.  I need to help.  I need to share.  I need to have feedback.  I need to know I am worthy of sharing my story.  I really don't know about this 'everything happens for a reason' bullshit, though Wayne and I have both said 'what are we going to learn from this'.

A few points of difference between me and Lisa's story is her age.  She got breast cancer at 28 - yes, 28.  She was so young, and she came across as being in a loving relationship and having a happy life; she was just starting out.  

And the other thing was she called her cancer 'Bullshit'.  There's probably a few in my circle of cancer friends who know we regularly use a stronger word than that.  

And I get Lisa's anger.  I can only recall being seriously angry twice.  Second trip over to Rotorua for chemo and I was pissed off.  Wayne said, "Here, you drive, hon".  So foot to the floor and blasting 'Bodies hit the floor', I got that anger out.  The other time was my callback in January 2015 after my first mammogram saying the cancer was back.  I was just so pissed off.

Lisa cried tears on her couch, her husband holding her and Lisa saying "I can't believe it"...well ditto Lisa.  Thank God for my wonderful husband by my side.  I said to Wayne last night (he watched some of it, not all) that I had never seen him cry.  In explanation he said "You were never going to die, that's why".

Like Lisa, I still look for the 'right' way to feel about this disease, the 'right' face to show to the world. I will reiterate again that these last six months have been very harrowing on the mind and yet I still got through it, yes, with the help of a little white pill, but at least I got through.

Lisa Lynch had her 'Art of Happiness' to help her find joy again in her final months.  I have found something else.  When I was in the thick of chemo and we would drive back from Rotorua, a little groggy and sleepy, I had a fascination for cows.  I would often wake up from a snooze and inform Wayne "Look, cows on a hill.  I like cows".  I don't know if it is because of my chemo haze or what, but I still "like cows".  I really sit up and take notice when I see a cow.  Sub consciously there must be something in that.

Since staring up adult colouring in, I am also now fascinated with the different colours of green out there.  I walk around at lunch time observing leaves and plants so I can come back home at night and recreate in my book.

And then my longstanding passion to enable me to see beauty all around me is my 365 Project, where I take a photo a day and submit my daily photo to a website community.  This community of unknowns has been so so supportive beyond belief.  For complete strangers to encourage me and for me to be able share my Taupo life around the world and vice versa is just a delight.

So I acknowledge Lisa Lynch and her life and her story.  Yes, there is a big age difference between us; our stories are similar but different for obvious reasons. I'm glad Lisa got to share and help others and it gave her purpose.  I hope for the same.

Missing You Already

26/10/2015

So one week into the lowering of neuropathy meds and I have to say my head feels clearer and my legs not so heavy, but the neuropathy is having a party at night time when I'm in bed.  Horrible foot cramps where I have to get out of bed 3-4 times at night to unlock distorted feet.  Hence I bought a foot spa today and seeing if that can loosen up the tootsies.  So one drug to go and see what happens then.

I came across this article during the week.  I have edited it to what is relevant for me right now...

"But when treatment is over? Well, life gets back to normal. Right?

Hmm … not so fast. It’s just not that easy. That’s what we forget to tell patients. Getting back to normal, getting on with life, is harder than everyone expects.

Picking up the pieces of your life before cancer – before chemotherapy or radiation wreaked havoc on the body and soul – takes much longer than one might expect. With the end of treatment comes an upwelling of fear of recurrence, fear that because active treatment has stopped, the cancer will be able to grow again. There is fear surrounding each scan and each blood draw. Anxiety swells before each oncology visit.

We might have forgotten to tell you that this is all normal. It’s an expected part of the recovery process. The fatigue from chemotherapy will get better over time. The hair will grow back. The fear of recurrence will subside with the passing of the months.

Another thing that we may have forgotten to tell you? You will be able to get on with your life again after cancer treatment. You’ll probably be a changed person after your experience, but you’ll get back to normal. If not the old normal then for sure a new one. Your life will resume, despite cancer, beyond cancer.

Just be sure to rally the support during this time. You still need it".

As was apt to do, the movie I saw last night "Missing You Already" got me thinking.  The hardest thing for me to watch was as Milly died, her husband was lying with her and his heartache was so raw.  I realised then that this is just what Wayne would be like and it broke my heart to know the pain he would be in.  He doesn't deserve to be a broken man.  Hopefully it's all a long way off.  Today I feel like it is

I have always been a people watcher and created Luke into one as well.  I was always making up stories about things I would see and say to Luke - look Luke, suspicious. Drug deal going down - and that was when he was a child!  He is an avid CI channel watcher so must have peeked his interest.

When I watch children now, I just see the gift they are.  One of our young mum's from work is just relishing motherhood and she is showing me again how to enjoy and make memories with loved ones.  I see her giving time to her son and that got me having some regrets.

I regret now that I had not spent more time and had more adventures with Luke when he was pre school age. I wish I had helped him explore more and look for adventures. I wish I had stopped doing the household chores, trying to keep myself busy, and spent time with my son showing him simple little joys.  I guess that's what grandparents do so well.  But thank goodness Wayne came along when Luke was five and introduced him to all sorts of craziness in 'Wayne's World'.

I know of another two ladies diagnosed this week...time to examine those breasts again, people.  Cancer does not discriminate.  Be aware of body changes and, if in doubt, take action.