Husband of the Year 2014

17/10/2014

Today is Wayne's last day at BP after four years working there.  He is off to work at the music shop in the RockShop in Rotorua as Assistant Manager. He so deserves this.  Music is his passion and it will be like "going home" to his rightful vocation.  BP Taupo have been fantastic in their support this year and I can't thank them enough for this.

I am so proud of my husband.  He is the reason  I have travelled so well with this whole cancer experience. 

He relates his part as being like the coach of a soccer team.  He can get me ready, tell me how to play, encourage me and send me off for the first half. I'll come back in battered and bruised and ready for oranges, then once again  he will send me back out with encouragement.  He will always be on the side line, shouting words of encouragement, but he can't actually play the game. That is up to me. I may win or lose but regardless I know I have had the best of the best by my side.

Love you Wayne Cornwall and thank you for stepping up and working with me, never judging or criticising, just letting me do what I have to do in my way

Radiation Take Off

10/10/2014

How good was it this afternoon at 12.45pm to drive up over the hill and see Lake Taupo and the mountains before me.  I know I haven't been incarcerated but on the drive home I actually noticed the blue sky, the pine trees, the Friesian cows (when I wasn't overtaking everything in front of me.  Hazel handled nicely.  Pure bliss to get a hug from Wayne (and a purr from Hugo who is sitting at my feet as I write this).

I was not looking forward to being away from home and Wayne.  I will be honest and say I thought I might have a heart attack on the radiation treatment bed because the cancer that was in my breast was over the top of my heart.  So knowing my luck, but hey, here I am.

I have started on my hormone meds Letrasole and the odd hot flush has started. Had nothing like this went I went through my menopause.  My period just stopped in December 2012 and no symptoms at all.  Now I am feeling the heat.

The treatment is going well.  There was no need to worry.  The staff have accommodated me so well by scheduling my appointments about 3pm most days so I leave from work about 1ish, grab a yummy sandwich from Countdown next door to the station, eat in the car park and then head to the hospital.  

Remembering my floor and colour of where I have parked Hazel is a test each day.  It's a bit like the movie Groundhog Day - what floor am I on today C10 blue or C7 Orange?   I am now helping others when they get in the lifts to where they need to go.  With those puzzled looks on their faces, you just have to help.

When I arrive at reception I hand in my yellow appointment card for the Yellow Machine.  I then have my own personal blue gown ready for me.  It's blue tops for breast radiation and blue bottoms for prostrate.

It takes a good half hour to measure me up to be in the right placement on the bed. I have a block on my diaphragm that is lined up with a camera in the ceiling.  That way they can see my breathing on their screen at their workstation and when I have reached the mark, they can zap away.  They set the measurements, the staff then leave and you hear the doorbell ringing as they make their way down to their safe haven behind screens.  

Then a voice comes over the microphone "Deep breath when you're ready and hold".  Now it is a wee bit tricky remembering how much breath you took in when they measured you but 95% of the time I hit the mark. I hold my breath for 22 seconds and then 7 seconds while they do the clavicle area, then 7 seconds and 3 seconds, then a change to the lymph nodes between my breasts and have a 12 second burst and then another 3 seconds.  Then that's it.   "And relax".  As I say the longest part is measuring up.  I am the only one they are treating using the breathing technique at present.  Trust me to be special.  Hence we are hoping for goggles and technology to catch up next week.

Then it's back to the car park and the right floor, and a bit of the 'Italian Job' as I drive down the ramps.  Because Hazel is so compact, I can zoom down, much to the horror of oncoming traffic.  Only had one lady yell abuse!

Back at the lodge it's time for a zzzz before tea.  Dinner has been veges, beef, pork or chicken; dessert is cheesecake, chocolate mousse and fruit.  Time to stop the desserts I think.  

We all tend to find a free seat and join a table.  It is so liberating to talk about life and death, and what cancer we each have, how each one has had cancer discovered, what treatments they are having.  Many have had accidents (eg. falling of a bike, changing a lightbulb and falling of chair, hit in the chest with a ball to name a few) and then found they have cancer.  If they hadn't had the accident it could have been too late.  What does surprise me though is how many wander off down to the gate for their smoke, yes, they are still smoking.  

There are a few common phrases that we all agreed we didn't want to hear again and the number 1 phrase is...dah dah..."Just stay positive, you'll be fine".  

It's impossible to stay positive all the time and I can't.  Do you think all those cancer patients who are now dead thought negatively?  I didn't cause it by negative thinking, by eating too many potato chips when I was 12, by sitting in the sun, or by not exercising.  It just happened for me due to menopause.  I can be positive in spirit but that won't cure my cancer.  Neither will being negative kill me.  It's not my fault. Never deny a cancer patient reality, whether you agree with it or not.  When all else fails, what do you say to a person who has cancer?  "I'm sorry".  Just a handy hint I needed to share that has come out of this week.

I just have to say I was "appreciated" twice this week, one by a kerb crawler n Hamilton and one at The Vine...must be the grey hair!!  

So I'm home now for the weekend.  I must rest up, take things quietly.  Better get that tattooed somewhere I think.

My happy place to remind me of home

Friends in Trouble

06/10/2014

Since I left home yesterday the last thing Wayne said to me was "Remember, you are having this treatment to give you life".

As I sat in the radiation waiting room - this was my view...stark, non inviting (though who would want to be invited) and sterile.  The only peep of colour is as shown.

And here is where they are hopefully giving my life back.

Today I got two phone calls: one from a colleague with a husband and three wee children, the other from a close friend (I am second mother to her daughter and she cared for Luke while I worked).  They have both been diagnosed with breast cancer.  I am absolutely gutted for them both.  Cancer is just so random.  These are two people who watch what they eat, fit, healthy, good people...

One is waiting for chemo before the op, the other final biopsy of lymph nodes.

If anything constructive has come out of my diagnosis and blogs, it is these two women being open to communication and reading just one person's journey, that they have become aware of their own bodies and what it is doing.  Hopefully they will have a good outcome.

I can see that I am going to be needed for a bit longer yet in some capacity or another in helping these two on their journey.

On a brighter note, am at the Cancer lodge and having a laugh.  We are all in the same boat so we can talk about what ails is quite openly and frankly.  Highly entertaining so far.

Yellow Machine

02/10/2014

 Wayne came into the treatment room today and got an explanation of how they are administering the radiation.   
Got to take a pic of the mean machine!  

Like something out of sci-fi movie. It whizzes around me into 

position and then red and green light beams criss-cross me.

I get to try out goggles tomorrow to help me see what the 

radiographers see when I take a deep breath and hold so I'm 

not guessing each time what the line is I have to reach to 

hold. 

A new thing and I am the lucky guinea pig.

Medical team are lovely once again. I have three working on

 me with mathematical precision. It is all a science way 

beyond me.

Stage 3 Begins

26/09/2014

I felt rather sad today to be leaving my workplace for the next five weeks, embarking on stage 3 of the four part cancer process.  This time I will be flying solo, so to speak.  

I love my job and the people I work with, so to say goodbye was quite hard and a bit weird.  I didn't think I would feel like that.  I guess if I was going on an overseas holiday, it would all be exciting and adventurous and everyone would be excited for me.  Can't say this derives the same feeling.  I should turn it all into a positive and look at this stage as another part of the cure from cancer and the adventure in it will be meeting new people at the Cancer Lodge - will have to work on that thought!

During chemo I had the constant support of Wayne and my colleagues when I got to work.  They would send me home if I looked too worse for wear or bolster me up with humour and compassion.  So going to miss that, but I'm guessing that's where the community spirit of the lodge comes in again.

Thanks for the hugs, workmates, before I left!  Really appreciate them.

So from next week I foresee I have to rely on myself and lean on God that much more. 

I am nervous, I have to admit, just as I was with chemo.  Once I got started on chemo though I then knew roughly what to expect each time.  I'm hoping radiation goes as smoothly as chemo did for me, and that I am going to be able to still work each day from the station in Hamilton.  Time will tell how much tiredness has a part to play.

So tomorrow we go to Waikato Hospital for more planning - make sure the beams line up - and then treatment on Wednesday.

Hazel, Greg (the alpaca), Wayne and I are looking forward to a few days in the 'Tron.

Check out this beautiful blossom from outside my house today.  Just had to share it with you.

Will keep you posted on stage 3...

Radiation Consult

22/09/2014

And stage 3 starts.  I got home to a phone call to have a bone density scan on Friday in Rotorua.  This goes hand in hand with the 5 years hormone meds to make sure my bones aren't going to go brittle on me.

Then the radiation consultant rings.  I have been waiting for the phone call to check on what the radiation plan is.  So here goes:

1.  Decision made is that it is acceptable not to radiate the lymph node area under my arm after consultation with another radiation consultant and surgeon.  Happy with this as increased risk of lymphedema if this area was radiated.

2.  I will be radiated around the clavicle area as if any cancer cells have travelled they could be hiding there.  My arm will get some radiation but no evidence that it will cause lymphedema. 

3.  My heart moves over far enough for them when I hold my breath to radiate my breast cancer area, but the heart will still get an amount

of radiation.  Not what the medical team would like but acceptable.

4.  The lymph nodes around my breast bone/sternum area will be radiated as cancer  cells could be hiding there.  

5.  He said we get one shot at this.  If we don't get it under control now it will be harder to stop.

6.  Still my decision to go ahead with their plan.  I said I don't have the courage not to go ahead with it.

Round 12 - We're done

21/09/2014

So it is now over a week since I finished chemo(04/09/2014).  On the day of my 12th treatment I was quite emotional - firstly, because it was the last one; secondly that I came through it relatively unscathed compared to others, and thirdly, I was saying goodbye to my 'safety net'.   

It was another rowdy session on the last day (04/09/14) with Wayne playing guitar and a sing-song ensued.  Elaine, the head nurse, gave me a hug when I finished and wouldn't let me go, you know, one of those special hugs you get from time to time.  That made me cry more.  We left with an almighty sigh.  So the next few days were resting.

Strange things go on though because you know you have finished, you think, right, let's get on with life again.  Only to come to a full-stop as the body goes whoa, hold on a minute, you only had chemo four days ago. Give the body its rest it needs.  So some adapting of the mind and re-focusing is in order to slowly get I to the 'new' normal.

Wednesday we headed up to Hamilton for radiation appointment.  All along my surgeon has not wanted my lymph nodes under my arm radiated as he believes he took enough margins and I was definitely going to get lymphedema of the left arm if I did.  Radiation experts have said no, that I should have it done, with 30-60% likelihood of lymphedema. So that was talked about at some length.  

Then I had planning scans.  Talk about tools of the trade. I felt like I was on a building site as they measured my body against the bed from every angle so when I get radiated they have me in exactly the same position each session.

Due to where the lump was in my breast, it is very close to my heart, so I had to have a block put on my chest (not sure why) and then breathe in and hold for 20 seconds to see if my heart moved over enough to not be affected by radiation beam.  Now they compare my normal breathing and held breath scans to come up with a plan for me in about 10 days time.

The good thing though is that the radiation consultant phoned me the next day and said he had spoken to another surgeon and they believed my request not to radiate under my arm is reasonable so looks like we are in the clear there.  Will just do my left breast and clavicle area.

We popped into the cancer lodge which will be home for five weeks (except weekends) - wow, very flash and 5*.  The staff and volunteers were lovely, though I did find it hard seeing sick people around me and said to Wayne I will need to escape.  No disrespect to the patients, just found it confronting en masse.

Friday we had oncologist appointment in Rotorua.  Another different consultant.  Have never had the same consultant twice yet!  

He then explained the next step is hormone treatment for the next five years to block the oestrogen receptors that go looking for cancer cells.  He explained that scans can pick up to a 1mm size cell but sitting inside that cell can be one million cancer cells.  So from the scans that were taken they cannot detect any cancer cells up to the 1mm.  My portacath will stay in for a year (just in case) and that will need to be flushed every four weeks.  After radiation I get handed back to my surgeon who will monitor me for the next so many years with mammograms and if I notice any aches pains that need further exploring.  Also oncologist is going to watch me for next year.  They said that if it comes back it will be sooner rather than later.  Who knows really...

So now I have a few weeks off, oh no wait, another radiologist appointment for planning by phone or Hamilton visit and a bone density scan.  Appointments just keep coming.

So I made it through chemo, folks, with your help with laughter, phone calls, texts, Facebook comments/likes, surprise gifts, food - all of these things helped Wayne and I get through.  You guys stayed with me for the long haul and I can imagine it has been a long six months of seeing me post all and sundry.

It has been hard, can't deny that, but I have had it easy compared to others.  I am proud that I managed to hang in there, still work 90% of the time, still put on a smile and just let it all out on this blog.  Thanks for putting up with my ramblings.  Some were too hard to read I know and some people felt I shouldn't be telling everyone everything.  Well I have learnt I had  to do what worked for me to get me through this, and writing and photographing my experience has been instrumental in this.

Of course my wingman Wayne has been unbelievable.  I can't thank him enough but he knows that.  We have had lots of laughter and tears along the way together and it has only brought us closer together.  And of course Luke and Christine's prayers and love from afar have also contributed too.  Luke said today he was so proud of me for all I have gone through.  Love my son so much.

So after all this we decided we needed some fun.  Being from a Mini crazy family, we talked about when/if I died, Wayne would get a Mini and a Gibson guitar.  Fair enough, but this week I decided I want to enjoy a Mini too and while I was alive!  I can now say I have ticked that off my bucket list.  We now (with the bank) own Hazel.  Who would have thought a week ago I would be driving a Mini Cooper.  Kirsty gave me a model Mini for finishing chemo and said visualise and you will get it one day and Voila!

So 1st October I head to Hamilton to commence radiation treatment.  All the more fun now of course driving Mini Hazel to and fro.

Congratulations to my cancer buddies Tania and Joan who have completed their chemo rounds too.

Thinking of those who are watching their loved ones go through this too.

Blessings Facebook Friends - love you guys and THANK YOU