Amber Bee

Home coming

I knew this would be a roller coaster and we all know I was pretty high when I left hospital. Still slightly high on drugs but mainly on adrenaline and dopamine.

It lasted two days at home before the crash. My breathing wasn’t improving and my anxiety was rising. Why wasn’t I getting better? I had my family, my friends, my cat and my bed. Surely I should have been improving.

I dialed a friend. Someone I trust and someone with the knowledge to explain what what was going on. She told me to cut back on the visitors, stop the stimulants (tea, coffee etc), take something to help me sleep but above all, to stay as calm as possible and rest.

And advice from my husband ……………. to stop talking!

Those who know me, know that this would be the biggest challenge yet………. I do not sit still, my Nana called me ‘chitter chat the magpie’ for a reason.

I’ll admit, it may have taken a little pill to do so, but I have heeded the advice and four days down the track I am so much better. My breathing has improved, my brain has settled and the wounds are healing.

I have found a place of peace and stillness in watching Netflix, working on a puzzle and cleaning out and organizing my jewellery box. That sounds like I have a lot of jewels…….. but no, just a few tangled necklaces and bracelets (actually, I do have a lot of earrings).

I have an activity table with puzzles, painting, books, sudoku and the macrame is out! All quiet activities. I am starving and eating the food deliveries with relish. A very positive sign.

So, I am getting there. I may not be seeing many of my friends but I can feel you all right behind me.

A x

Keeping it real (part 3)

4:20am clunk. The last cog just turned.

I do not need to talk so much ever again ✅

I do not need to explain everything I’m thinking to every person that crosses my path.

I can write it down and whoever wants to listen can read it.

I can now rest my tongue and listen to the world around me. The beautiful place where the birds sing and the waves crash.

Last little tears.

And breathe.

Now I truly heal.

And I promise, this morning there are no drugs.

Keeping it real (part 2)

Disclaimer: Still hold your stitches and perhaps, make sure no one is driving a car!

It’s the middle of the night again and I realised there is more to that recent blog. I’ve also realised 2-3am is when I write best. Although several have said since reading part 1, my best writing is on drugs. Well sorry about that but I’m not sure where or how I will ever get that concoction again and I’m not sure I should!!!!!

So at this time of the day/night I often have a cry. I now realise, this is not new to hospital, it must just be emotional o’clock for me. I have also said to Andy frequently in recent years, why am I so serious all the time. How do I become more lighthearted and relaxed like you? He has said, you just have to be able to laugh at yourself.

Well, the nurse just popped her head in to see if I am ok because she heard me coughing. I was coughing because tonight I cannot stop laughing……. at myself and my drug fuelled Amber version 2.0.

What an idiot.

Mum did say a couple of days ago (not sure when, I’ve lost all sense of time) “Amber, I’m worried because I love version 1 Amber”.

Well, don’t worry Mum, you were right, that version 2.0 thing was a whole lot of bullshit. OG Amber was pretty good, she just needed a few small adjustments.

So….. I can now laugh at myself ✅ I can identify my trauma ✅ I can get help to face that trauma ✅ (notice I say get help, yesterday I believed I was a psychologist and could easily fix myself!!!) Oh, and I can beat breast cancer ✅

As far as rubbish I have sent or spoken. Not everyone has read the part one blog yet, but judging by the comments coming back, it was really only family and a couple of close friends that received or heard some abnormal data. Perhaps as a friend suggested, my worry about seeing a message I don’t remember, was just some drug amnesia happening.

But……. My daughter is the one who received the all time best comment. I told her, I was going to ‘rise from the ashes like a Phoenix’ 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Being an avid fantasy reader and Harry Potter enthusiast, I knew this would appeal to her (at least I had that part right). But the funny part is…….. I was so smug about my comment. I mentioned it to my husband several times. I thought it was the best comment ever and I’m ashamed to say, this was yesterday, not day 1,2,3. I should have been seeing clearer.

Her response was…. “Wow very inspirational” and my husband simply said…….. “I haven’t seen you burst into flames Amber”. It was good and it was relevant, but I did worry her. She thought I had gone to cloud cuckoo land!

This is where I now realise, my husband is fine. He always is. He must have watched the last 6 days and listened to some of the comments and thought……… yep…….. she’s on drugs.

Incidentally, I do need to get out of here now. For my medical friends…. yesterday afternoon I managed to self diagnosis myself using my ‘ultrasound vision’ with a seroma, a DVT and superficial thrombophlebitis.

Get me out.

Keeping it real

Be warned, this one will be funny and there will be swear words. If you happen to have stitches anywhere at the moment, hold on to them so as not to split them.

What the actual fuck??!!!

Please tell me you all know I’m on drugs right?!!

As the clouds lift, it has just occurred to me how much garbage I have been spilling, both verbally and written. I scrolled back on one group chat and saw a message I have no recollection of sending. It wasn’t a bad one but enough for me to wonder what I have been writing and saying.

As far as the blogs go, they make sense and I standby what I have written. The last one in particular, has drawn a lot of comments and was absolutely a break through. I only got one thing wrong. I didn’t need to get breast cancer or have an asthma attack to find my trauma…….. I needed to get high!!! Drugged to oblivion.

So tonight I am here to say, if you got a very strange message from me at any point, please please ignore it or at least put it in perspective. Or if I chewed your ear off with a tidal wave of me explaining my new insights, the me who seemed to know and understand everything about myself………. Perspective.

I am no superhero with super healing powers. Even until 3pm today I thought I was. But alas, I am a normal woman who received a shitty diagnosis and is trying to make the best of her situation.

My positivity hasn’t changed with this latest revelation and I will still kick this thing to the kerb but I have been behaving like a dementia patient that has the odd moment of clarity. You never know which bit is real!!!

Believe the blogs. I’m not sure about the rest, if it helps you to believe it, then be my guest. If nothing else, I can write. Maybe it was all spot on… I don’t know. I’m just not quite as amazing as you all think.

But hell….. those drugs are.

Next time (of course there won’t be a next time), Andy please take my phone away until at least day 4. And Andy, what you have sat through….. you deserve a medal. I suspect you are the only one who knew quite how high I actually was.

Again, everyone I’m sorry.

The emotions

This one might be longer…..

So right now, I am in a phase of healing. It’s physical right? There are cuts and bruises, wounds and drains. But, it would be silly to think there isn’t a big emotional part to healing.

The Breast Care nurse told me, there will be tears on day 3, that’s when the emotional toll rears its head. I thought….. nah I’m different, I’m not emotional about my boobs. At least that part was true (or has been so far). The emotions came, but it was for something entirely different and very unexpected.

At 3am on Friday (day 3, albeit only just) I woke up with a start. I immediately started to cry. I had a sudden realisation…… to explain it, I have to go back and tell you a few things. Many will know these, others……. well what can I say, soon you will know everything about me!!!!

For many years, I have suffered with anxiety. I’ve had all kinds of treatment; psychologists, medication, strategy plans (one of which is writing). Time and time again the people I spoke to said…… you need to find your trauma. At least two said, it is a childhood trauma.

Sorry just had to stop writing for a cry…. (BTW it is 2:49am two days after the first outburst).

I could never figure it out. I had a good childhood, I grew up supported and loved. I got to play the sports I wanted (although sometimes limited by asthma). I ate well. I swam and I swam. Granted, we were the last people in the street to get a CD player but hey…. that couldn’t be it. All of these are Australia memories, I didn’t really have memories of living in New Zealand (in hindsight, that should have been a clue).

Here’s the interesting bit….

On Tuesday night, I had a terrible time. My asthma flared. I was flat on my back, had little movement, didn’t have the drugs I would normally use and I just could not breathe. I was absolutely terrified.

Bam 💥

It had to happen again for me to see it. There was my trauma right there. I was and therefore am, absolutely terrified of not being able to control my breathing.

As a child, I must have constantly been in this state. As it turns out, I was a very sick little girl. I did know that, but the extent to which, I had completely blocked out. Moving to Australia at 8 years old not only served to provide drastic improvement to my health but it was the perfect place for my little brain to build a wall and lock all of that terror away.

I never processed it. I never grew from it. And it held me back big time.

I’ve had two days to chat to Mum, Dad and my sister. We have shared memories and there has been a lot of ‘Ohhhhhhh, that makes sense now’. It has been a beautiful time for all of us.

I now know, this journey will heal so much. I even wonder if breast cancer could turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to me?

THAT SOUNDS CRAZY but already, it is setting me free.

A (2.0) x

Finding strength

Many people have commented on how strong I have been throughout the ordeal to this point. They ask me how I’m doing it. The answer is quite simple. It’s all about knowledge.

I know this disease. I know how it works, the different types, surgical options, surgical outcomes, other treatment options and recommendations. Through my work, I have literally studied this information to qualify and then seen it over and over.

For this reason, I was able to make quick, clear decisions about what I needed and wanted. I was in the drivers seat. It is the single biggest difference between myself and the average patient in my situation. It is something that you cannot give or recommend or offer to other patients, because it took me 25 years working in the industry in Australia, NZ and the UK to gain it.

What I’m saying is………. only someone with my knowledge could have even attempted to have the strength and clarity I’ve had. I can tell you now, any other cancer diagnosis and it would have been a very different story.

I guess the only thing I could say to others, is to get as much information as you can, then take your time (within reason of course) to make your decision. Having some level of control over your treatment makes a big difference.

For me, there will be other challenges which I will continue to write about. I have experienced several. Writing about them is me processing, dealing with and then moving forward from each one as they arise. I recently discovered how important this process is.

Facing reality

I’m still finding it hard to accept I have cancer. I have spent 15 of my 25 year career, finding breast cancers. Then I found mine. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Although sometimes I think….. maybe I always knew it was going to happen and then I wonder….. is this what my career was actually about?

I mean let’s face it, in Australia 1 in 7 women will develop breast cancer in their lifetime. The odds are pretty high, unfortunately. Even with no family history. Then there is my dense breasts, my propensity towards being a stress head, liking a drink, taking hormones etc.

Did I do this to myself?

But that is not what this is about. No good can come from blame when it comes to cancer. I know that. Yet, somehow I still went down that rabbit hole.

It’s been almost a month since the radiologist said “I think this is malignant Amber”. I can only just put into words how I am feeling and all my friends know….. I have lots of words. It isn’t often I am speechless!

I feel cheated, I feel pissed off, I feel angry but I also feel resigned, I feel positive, I feel like kicking this thing to the kerb and I will. I feel like demonstrating how well this can go, like finding the positives in the shit storm.

This will be the story of my BooBees, from the inside and outside.