3rd time lucky

This will be confirmation news for some of you that the biopsy results arrived by phone call from my oncologist on Friday and the diagnosis is breast cancer.  Not what I wanted to hear but we knew that would be the outcome, didn't we?

This is one hell of a ride! Once again the only indication something wasn't right, on reflection, is appetite.  This last month I could easily have taken food or left it, and  that is just the same as when I was diagnosed New Year's Eve 2013.  Yes, my fellow supporters and encouragers, that's how long this crazy ride has been going for.

So I'm moving on through the stages.  In the first diagnosis I thought I covered the five stages of grief in that year, and I probably did, but now I can see that each diagnosis is a stage as well.

So 2014 was "denial". Yep, couldn't believe this was happening to me.  A lumpectomy and lymph node removal.  Chemotherapy, radiation and hormone meds was the treatment for that year and I was so proud of the way I handled it.  I proved to myself that I wasn't giving in or giving up.

I can remember Wayne and I sitting down one day and asking ourselves what are we going to learn from this.  Well that first year was the 'year of kindness and spirituality'. 

People were (and are still) so kind, and people we hadn't seen or caught up with for years came out of the woodwork to express their concern for us. I say "us" because as much as Wayne will say "I'm alright, I haven't got cancer", we are together in this every step of the way.  If he can be by my side, he is there and does not falter.  Yes, Wayne rightly earned 'Husband of the Year 2014" in my world. 

My spiritual life came alive in this year.  My experiences are personal. I know God was with me and Wayne every step of the way.

January 2015 and well, on my first mammogram, after completing all the treatment in 2014, I got the callback and underwent a mastectomy of the left breast. The surprise and disbelief that we were to undergo another year of treatment was just too daunting for me to take at some points and my spiritual world collapsed.  I didn't question God, I just gave up having Him on my radar.

All I had to do this time was take hormone meds.  My chances were 50/50 of a recurrence so scans were planned six monthly.  I stuck with this regime for 15 months and got a clear scan.  But, I admit, along came "sadness and grief".  I really didn't see a lot outside of myself.  I had nothing to give anyone including Wayne, but he stuck by me and was so patient and loving; so really he did earn his title again for 2015 - I just didn't announce it to the world and neglected to tell him.

Then I saw light at the end of the tunnel...or should I say summer.  I came off the hormone meds which were making me an old lady and causing me pain.  So, in consultation with my oncologist, we agreed the right thing for me to do was to come off the meds for 'quality of life'.  My recurrence rate was at 50/50 so dammed if I do, dammed if I don't.  And I wanted to enjoy summer and what would be after that, I would deal with.

We had a blast, Tania Lord, Luke Welten, Christine Welten and I.  Every opportunity we were in the lake.  The bubbles on the beach, the odd skinny dip (me and Tania!), the sunsets, the laughter...bliss.  And I was okay👍🏼.  I truly believed I was now okay.  And I got through another scan.  Yippee, we're sweet.

But wham...September 2016 scan shows up dodgy lymph nodes and so begins the "anger" stage.  I am really pissed off to tell the truth.  Once again, I should have picked that the lack of appetite was a pre cursor to my body not bring right, but I honestly believed I was fine for this scan.  My head and body were in sync...yet hello, the beast returns.

So here I sit, rocking in my chair, contemplating the 'what if' question.  My oncologist said to remove this one straight away, the "what if I had stayed on my hormone meds".  He reiterated we were right to do what we did. He expected the cancer back within six months and I got 18 months cancer free, so be at peace with this, and I am.

Now we try the hormone meds again for 10 weeks.  Last time I took the meds was at the end of two major operations and chemotherapy/radiation treatment, so I'm hoping my body handles them better with all that stuff over with. I really should ask why 10 weeks is the magic number, but I will be scanned again then and we will regroup to plan our way forward.

Wayne is aiming for Husband of the Year 2016 - he's coming along nicely.

I should add at the end of this post, please, if you have any questions, ask away.  I will be open and honest.  My way of processing is writing and talking about it.  As I have always advocated, if I can help someone beginning this roller coaster, or a loved one wants to know how they can help someone else, I'm happy to share my experiences.  I do remember myself though, not everyone is an open book and they do it their way, and I respect that.
Please don't let the silence be deafening.  I am still here.  I trust my oncologist.  We have a good relationship and he and I know he is looking out for me.  That's what I need...and time, I just want more time.

Mental Alert

12/05/2015

I have been asked lately where is my blog, seems like some of you are missing my ramblings in the cancer world.  All I can really say is that this stretch is mentally challenging.  

Thanks to some time out at the beach, anti depressants, a wine now and again, and Luke and Christine being there for me when I spiral downward, this trip is harder.  The waiting...the when, the if, the uncertainty...all challenging and I'm not really that happy about it.  

Isn't it strange that given something physical, like physical treatment of chemo and radiation, that when it stops, it feels like the safety net has gone. The hormone pills are taken daily but who knows if they are doing their job.  So I've gained 3kg and I have spots, but I'm going to carry on with them.

It is now three months since I was told 'when not if' and it isn't any easier as I sit here today.  I spiral downwards when I'm alone or get over tired.  I'm waiting for that ache or something to appear.  My body feels odd, just odd, and I can't put my finger on it.  Is is psychosomatic or is something really occurring within my body...I'm anxious waiting.  Will there come a day when I'm not anxious and I can breathe a sigh of relief.

My mum has been really ill with septicaemia these last 10 days.  Sitting with her in hospital and watching her decline and then improve has been a roller coaster.  My sister Jan and husband Rob have been there every step of the way with Mum.  I am so grateful that they are there for her and have her best interests at heart.  And for Mum's grandchildren and great grandchild to visit gave her such a lift.

But I want my Mum, I want to be able to pick up the phone and tell her anything and everything.  I can't imagine her not being here.  At one point, when I was told this time round 'when not if', she said to be "We'll go together".  That's how Mum is.  She would do anything for her children.

So I get fatigued - yes I had a kip on the office floor last week - but I'm doing my best to earn a living, pay the bills and have a coffee out at the weekend.  Life is simple. It  has to be.  Thank goodness I can live vicariously with work stories through my headphones at work. 

I am being challenged spiritually.  It has waned somewhat and I don't know why.  But I'm not going to fret.  There are so many out there who are praying for me and others like me.  I think I am tired of trying so hard.

So that's it in a nutshell.  I'm still here, still working, sleeping, eating and driving Hazel with my foot to the floor.  So glad we got her when we did.  She is FUN.

Emotional Treatment

25/11/2014

I have wanted to put 'pen to paper' for a few weeks now but felt that once treatment had finished, I more or less closed the Facebook blog, thinking those of you who read my blog had seen me get through it and that was enough.

When I finished radiation on 3/11/2014 I was ready to get back to normality and naively thought I could get back into work and just put the past 10 months behind me.  What I found instead was that I was looking over my shoulder asking myself the question "What just happened these last 10 months"?

I headed off to work and did the first week full time only to feel like a little old lady by the weekend, spending a lot of it in bed sleeping.

This was not my expectation because I had gotten through treatment pretty good compared to so many others around me.  This wasn't  me, this wasn't how it was meant to go now. I'm done and dusted. Sure, I will feel a bit tired, but not like a truck has mowed me down.

So I headed to the cancer counsellor and cancer nurse for some answers/solutions.  The counsellor said "Andrea, you need to learn to breathe, just breathe".  So of course I did and thought wow, I can do more now and so I did.

Then my cancer nurse sent me literature on different ailments after treatment but nothing new there.  The pertinent one for me was how to manage fatigue which I thought I was doing.

So I proceeded to carry on full tit (excuse the pun) only to fall in a big heap at the weekend which honestly shocked me.  I didn't realise I could feel that tired.  Thankfully I had Jan, my sister, explain in plain language about how I had to slow down, how I wasn't being fair to my body or to the doctors who had taken care of me.  I also had Mum's nurturing to get me back on my feet.

Therefore I have come to the slow realisation I am going to have to adapt to 'me' time.  I am so good at giving out, that I don't know how to give to myself.  

This therefore is my new quest.  If I don't, I am worried the cancer will come back, so I have to give myself a fighting chance to keep those cancer cells from regenerating and that is what I intend to do - take a breath and take time out.

Really, this is a continuation of the treatment plan.  When I take a step back and acknowledge that the medical treatment it is over, I now have to undertake emotional treatment for me.  This part of the cancer experience is probably more emotional than I can express here and something I have to figure out for myself. I might share with you at some stage but for now I am going to do some reflecting on how this 'me' time is going to look.  

I welcome any ideas.

For the time being, Hazel is filled with gas and is ready and waiting, and the road stretches out before me...

Low Days

18/04/2014

It was explained to me that the whole cancer experience is a roller coaster of all the senses. This week was emotionally and physically tough.

I headed home to Matamata for a cry and a hug on Sunday with Mum. I didn't know that when I got out the car I was going to fall in her arms and shed tears. She said "I just want to take your hurts away" and I said I wanted her to "kiss and make it better".

Monday I was in bed all day. The body separated itself from the head and just went blah and would not, could not budge out of bed. Maybe I haven't drunk enough this 2nd chemo round. I am now trying Epsom Salt baths to see if I can detox the chemicals out. 

Each chemo round is about learning how to manage the chemicals that are rushing around the body. I guess I may have been a bit cocky after the 1st round and it going so well. Note to self - Chemotherapy is not a walk in the park, Andrea.

This week I failed miserably and I became sad. I have not been great company. I have pushed many away because I didn't want to impose my morose behaviour on others. I have not been able to lift myself out of the doldrums. I still put in some good hours at work but it was a struggle. I have shed buckets. Wayne has been my shoulder to cry on. He is so gentle, kind, loving - just holds me as I sob. He just keeps saying "let it out, let it go, this is good".

Please - I'm saying this not to invoke sympathy. There's plenty of others who are going through/ have been through this experience and know what I'm saying, but haven't told a soul. They have just taken the bull by the horns, stiff upper lip and got on with it. Well me, I'm just sharing this whole gambit of the cancer experience from where I am sitting.

This raw, vulnerable, bald human being is not someone I recognise in the mirror. I feel like I am being stripped bare to the core and I have so far to go, that I am not going to recognise the person at the end of all this. Who will arise from this whole experience.

Thank goodness for the arrival of Luke and Christine. To have their presence around me gives me joy. They remind me I am still a mum, a mother-in-law; I am wise, loving, giving, still speak gobbly-gook, funny, nurturing - they help me remember me.

So how did I forget all that this week. Well my wise niece "Oh auntie, tough once those steroid highs wear off isn't it? This is so normal...it passes".

Oh Lord, really, is that what this week was all about? This just confirmed again, those chemicals are going to send me roller coasting off the scale now as the next two rounds get stronger.

Hang in there with me guys, this is a hell of a ride...

Thank you this week for the beautiful kindnesses from:

• Jean, our neighbour, for coconut milk
• My angel of a neighbour for an amazing Entertainment Events Book for the year and wine
• Distant cousins for the beautiful flowers