Amber Bee

Results (yay) and more waiting

My results are in this blog. Sorry it’s a bit long winded. I’m building suspense 🤣

Throughout any cancer journey there is a lot of waiting. Waiting for initial diagnostic imaging, waiting for biopsies or tests, waiting for results, waiting to see a specialist, waiting for a surgery date, waiting for more results, waiting for what’s next.

In my work, patients have always said to me that the waiting is the worst part and I have to agree. And I was lucky. Being in the industry, there were some strings pulled and I was squeezed in at the diagnostic level and I jagged a cancellation with the surgeon for my initial consultation.

The absolute hardest part of my journey so far, was being diagnosed over the Christmas period. The GP was closed. The surgeon was closed. The breast care nurses….closed. There was no one to talk to. My brain went wild. My knowledge became both an advantage and a disadvantage.

By the end of the ten day period, I had made decisions on what I wanted to do in terms of surgery, but my mind had also conjured the absolute worst case scenario. I hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, had lost weight and generally lost condition. Not a good way to start a battle against cancer.

I am the type of person who has to have a plan. If I am moving forward ticking things off, I’m okay. There was no plan. The only thing I could think to do was to swim……. every day. My friends rallied to keep me company. All the while, I was thinking about our holiday on the 9th of January….. cancel or not cancel?!

Once the GP opened (2nd Jan), I got a referral to the surgeon, got some sleeping pills and had a good cry with a professional. Tick, I had done something.

Then I waited another four days for the surgeon’s offices to open (6th Jan). They opened three days before our holiday (9th Jan). As I said earlier, I was lucky enough to get a cancellation, we saw her 17 hours before we flew out!

We decided to start hormone blockers, go on holiday and book the surgery for as soon as we returned. The hormone blockers were the key in my mind, I was doing something towards my treatment, moving forward.

We had a great holiday and I will be forever grateful we took the time. It allowed us as a family, firstly to set it aside and have some fun and then as it came closer, time to prepare ourselves for what was ahead. I ate and I slept in the first week, the second week was harder.

Then I came home with Influenza B!! No one else got sick, just me. Not really surprising considering I was in poor condition. It made for a challenging surgery, a grumpy anaesthetist and a tough recovery. But, I got through it.

In a way, the difficult recovery was good, it took my mind off the pathology results. I had to focus completely on getting well, my asthma was bad and I had wounds to heal. I had things to work on to move forward, and working on that, got me almost the whole way until results day.

Almost.

The last two days were tough, my mind was going over all of the possibilities. Thank you to those who provided distractions.

Yesterday, we drove to Perth. I did not stop talking the entire way, poor husband. But, it was a good indication my chest had recovered and the only way I knew to stop me thinking about what was coming.

The results were good! The lymph nodes are clear, all margins are clear, the lesion was a little bit smaller than expected, the nasty little bugger is gone! No radiotherapy. Then she said…… but I would like you to see an oncologist just to get their opinion. The cancer was invasive, therefore, ‘preventative’ chemotherapy still isn’t off the table and we need their opinion on long term hormonal therapy.

So, fantastic news, I am so relieved and it is all very positive. But, a small part of me thinks….. great, here I am back to waiting. The referral is sent, so fingers crossed it isn’t too long until I see someone. Hopefully I don’t need it, but chemotherapy was always a scary thought to me because it is something I know little about.

In the meantime, I am back to my activity table and healing, the wounds have a way to go yet. My daughter and I are having a 1000 piece puzzle race. She’s good, and she also has techniques to distract me from my puzzle in order to get the upper hand. I think I might have selected the easier puzzle though, so we’ll see…

Missing out – Jetty swim 2025

Warning: This one is a tear jerker….

One of my biggest fears after diagnosis was what I might miss out on this year. Would it effect holiday plans, events with the kids and swimming? An early realisation was ………I would have to miss the 2025 Busselton Jetty Swim. It would be the first time in 15 years I wasn’t out there.

This was particularly devastating for me. It is an event that I am so passionate about. Over the years I have done many solo swims (3.6km) but I have also swum it in duos and teams. These were because I wanted to share this beautiful event with those I love and the kids I coached.

In recent years, I had done the mile, once escorting a beautiful friend and last year because I missed out on a solo entry. Incidentally, that turned out to be one of my most competitive swims, finishing 4th in the old lady’s division!

It never mattered to me which way I was swimming it as long as I was in there. I’ve watched the men and women in their 70s and 80s, blind and disabled. Families, friends and couples achieve their goals. And then there are the people that have overcome huge challenges just to be there. It is so inspiring. The swim’s tagline is ‘everybody’s swim’ and that’s exactly what it is.

Yesterday was the day. I planned to sit at home and have a nice breakfast and look forward to 2026. But a part of me knew there would be an awful lot of ‘poor me’ going on in my brain.

But then my army stepped forward….

The people I had encouraged and hopefully inspired along the way, stood up and did it for me (of course they had their own reasons but I know they were thinking of me). From our friends that meet us for early morning swims in the shark net, to the friend I meet weekly at Yallingup lagoon, to kids I’ve coached, to my friend who had been building her way up to a full solo and overcoming injury……. to my beautiful and courageous son.

They did it for themselves and me.…… and the conditions were horrendous.

For my boy, it was a last minute decision. He hadn’t trained, an ex competitive swimmer who had lost the love. A spot came up and being a lifeguard at the pool, he had listened to the swim coach’s preparations and tips for his squad and he thought…… I can do that.

As a parent, there are many proud moments but I’m not sure anything will top this one for me. It hurt him like hell and as I say the conditions were crap, but he kept going.

His one request was that I was at the finish line. It was a bit of an effort, but of course I got there and this was my reward…

It turns out the 2025 (30th Busselton jetty swim) will be one of the most memorable. As a wise person in my family said ‘I could not have handed the baton to a more reliable person’

And the challenge is set….

He told me last night, he’s training for the solo next year and he’s going to beat me.

Bring it on!!

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.