Hello Auntie, how's your Cancer?

24th June '08

Well the glorious 12th dawned bright and early in Milton Keynes, in fact earlier than usualy as I needed to have my breakfast before 7am. Five hours later, I was admitted to the Ambulatory Care Unit at MKGH for my operation, and by the time I'd been tagged and given my sexy stockings, I was being collected for theatre. Every time I've had an anaesethetic I'm amazed ... not so much the waking up (which I've always taken for granted), more by the fact that I can be silenced so easily by the right drugs!

I remember nothing more until I was returned to the ward, (much to the surprise of the anaesetist who came later to ask about my pain management whilst in recovery), and only really started to take notice when Russell arrived just before visiting was due to end at eight o'clock. Much as I was looking forward to his visit, I probably didn't show my appreciation very well, as I filled the nearest vomit bowl. Even Russell's scintilating conversation though couldn't stop me dropping off mid-sentance, so he soon disappeared off home to Mum & the children.

Friday morning saw me up and about by 6am, not by choice you understand, but the nurses seem to think it's a reasonable time to start the day. The trouble is, when you start the day that early, you need a nap by nine, and so I spent most of the morning sleeping. The surgeons came round and were pleased with how I looked and so left me to sleep. After lunch Mum visited for a short while, whilst Russell took Freya & Morgan to a birthday party ... my own personal Mary Poppins!

Friday evening was when it all started to go horribly wrong! One of the two drains I'd had insterted seemed not to be working, and on closer inspection it was evident that it was only being held in by sticky tape. So the lovely charge nurse removed it and applied a dressing, ressuring me that one drain alone would be fine. By ten that evening, and after a visit from Russell, a second nurse came to redress my drain sites, and managed to dislodge the remaining drain ... and so there were none!

The weekend passed without event, with a regular stream of visitors. Thanks everyone who visited, it really does help to pass the time between eating hospital food, studying the ticking clock and counting sheep! Slowly I noticed that after the drains had fallen out I was accumilating fluid behind my scar & under my arm, so was surprised to hear the nurses discussing my discharge on Saturday morning. It seems that drains out equal patient home in our great modern NHS, regardless of the fact I was only 36 hours post-op, so I soon put them straight. The fluid wasn't so much painful, as uncomfortable & strange. Mum visited on Sunday afternoon and I showed her what was happening, and when my booby not only wobbled but sloshed around too, she really did go a whiter shade of pale.

Late Sunday night they took away my water, and put a nil by mouth sign on my door. The swelling had taken on epic proportions and was begining to resemble something from Alien! They'd decided it was likely that I'd need another drain inserting under general anaesethetic, so wanted me good & ready. As it happened, the next morning the surgeon decided that they could easily drain it with a needle, which they kindly did for me without even moving me from my bed. Almost 300mls later they packed me off to collect my nice new foam boob, and Russell came to take me home. It was lovely to be home, and both Freya & Morgan seemed glad to see me too.

My breast surgeons have obviously never been parents to small children, as they gave me strict advice about what I can & can't do, especially where lifting the children and doing things for them were concerned. Thankfully, I've had practical help from both my Mum & Russell's parents to make things easier, but it's going to be a long haul for sure. Five times in the past eight days they've had to aspirate the accumilating fluid, and have so far collected well over a litre & a half!

Freya seems to be pretty unbothered by my absence & return and until yesterday she had only made one observation about my surgery. One morning she found my lovely foam boob whilst I was getting dressed, and asked why I had a new pillow. Yesterday she caught sight of my healing scar, covered in steri-strips and asked if the sticker on my poorly boobie was to make it better ... if only things were so simple.

Morgan is missing out much more than Freya as I'm finding it hard to give him a cuddle or do all the usual things, but whilst I was away he managed to get another new tooth & is still going from strength to strength.

Tomorrow, Russell & I are back to see the surgeon. We should get the results of the analysis of my lymph nodes, and will hopefully have more ideas where we go from here with regards to more chemo or radiotherapy, so watch this space, but remember ... everybody needs a pillow for a bosom!

6th June '08

Where has the time gone since I last updated everyone, certainly it doesn't seem like three weeks! For the first time in ages I feel like I have a little control back in my life, not a lot you understand, but just a glimmer of hope.

After my last session of chemo I was really wiped out, I think that the previous cycle had knocked me so badly that I'd not really had a chance to get back on my feet, so the next cycle really floored me. This was compounded by some unexpected news from my chemo nurses that I wasn't scheduled for any more chemo. Despite how horrible chemo makes you feel, it's a safety net, and without it, I felt very much adrift without a direction, or should that be up a creek without a paddle!

It took me a whole week, and a fair amount of persistance & tenacity to get a straight answer from my oncologist, who finally conceeded that further chemo probably wasn't in my best interests and that we should plan for surgery as soon as my blood results were back to normal. An appointment with the surgeon was booked for 4th June, with the expectation of surgery on either 9th or 10th.

Some people might be frightened by the idea of major surgery, but I felt my spirits lift considerably. Call me strange (most people do), but not getting rid of the tumour when I was first diagnosed was one of the hardest things to accept. Knowing that you have a huge & aggressive tumour is tough enough to deal with, but being told you have to live with it for another four months is even harder, so getting a plan for surgery was at least a step in the right direction.

With a provisonal date in mind, we made plans for some additional childcare, and tried to consider all the things that would need managing & juggling over the next month or so whilst I would be out of action. It's hard when you're a Mum, and anticipating not being able to give your own baby a cuddle or even carry them down the stairs, but at least I know it won't be forever. One of our plans was to call on our parents for help, and thankfully my Mum lives close by and knows the children routines very well and Russell's parents were also keen to help. They were busy making plans for the journey from Wales when disaster struck on the form of chickenpox! The day before my meeting with the surgeon we had to rapidly rethink our options, as neither of the children had had chickenpox, & it wasn't something I wanted to expose myself to either (at the time of writing Reg is still spotty, and hopefully Shirley hasn't caught it, but time will tell).

The 4th was always going to be a tough day, when we would finally discuss the surgical options. It was all made harder by our usually childminder being unwell all week, and leaving us needing my Mum to juggle the children whilst Russell & I went to the hospital. The visit turned out to be anything but how we'd imagined. They were in agreement that surgery was my best option, but couldn't give me a date,. To say I was gutted was a massive understatement, and I felt as bad as when I was first diagnosed. What they did agree was that I should have a pre-op assessment the next morning, which of course necessitated rescheduling my herceptin to the afternoon, oh to be so in demand!

The 5th started better that the 4th had finished, when I was given my pre-assessmentr check, and a surgical date, 12th June with admission at 11.45.

The next week I'm sure I'm going to be riding a rollercoaster of emotions. There is part of my that's euphoric to be finally getting rid of my unwanted squatter, but equally gutted that all my pretty underwear probably will never fit again. For those that want the nitty-gritty, I'll be having a modified radical mastectomy with axillary clearance, and will be in Milton Keynes General for about a week. I'll be staying on the Ambulatory Care Unit, in the Treatment Centre, and have been told I'll be having a side room (maybe they've heard I'm trouble)! Visitors are always welcome (3-5pm & 7-8pm), but it's probably worth checking with Russell to be sure I'm back to my usual smiley self first.

In the midst of all this, I heard yesterday that a very dear friend has also been diagnosed with this hateful disease and will also be joining me as a Cancer Fighter, I'm sending you my love and prayers, and will talk when you're ready and have time, (you know who you are, xXx).