Surgery – The BooBee Journey

Surgical review

Warning: some personal details

Yesterday, the day after my second chemo treatment (not the smartest planning) we headed to Perth for my two month surgical review.

My body was going through a few wee chemo side effects which resulted in an emergency toilet break and can you imagine? …… they were closed with plumbing issues!! I was very uncomfortable and couldn’t believe my bad luck. Luckily, Andy managed to get us across the highway to toilets on the other side before an accident, and all was right in the world again!!

We carried on to Perth had a picnic lunch in a lovely little park before heading to the consultant. In the carpark, Andy gave me an injection into my stomach. I have this 24 hours after chemo treatment to stimulate the bone marrow to produce more white blood cells. We felt like junkies and had a laugh as we disposed of the evidence. When I have this injection, it takes the wind out of my sails pretty quick. By the time I was in the waiting room I was almost asleep.

Anyway I woke up enough and great news, the surgeon is impressed with my healing progress. She was happy to hear I am back in the water and I have her green light to go back to work (lucky because I start on Friday!). I don’t need to see her for another six months which is fantastic.

The most interesting part of the appointment though was when she showed me my ‘before’ pictures. This is something a friend and I were discussing last week…… did I have photos?? I had completely forgotten to take some and also forgotten the surgeon did at my first consultation.

It was very weird sitting there looking at my old boobs from several different angles. She then took the ‘post’ pictures. I look completely different naked, but in clothes I think not many of you have noticed. I take my hat off to my surgeon and all the work she does. I am very happy with the result and think of her not only as a life saver but as an artist. She has made me look better!! Neither myself nor Andy felt any kind of sadness when looking at the before pictures.

So, another box ticked! I am getting through this thing and can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I’m really looking forward to getting back to work and to my new form of normality. I will remain forever changed physically and mentally but now it is time to start turning that to my advantage and carrying on with a fuller, yet less cluttered life.

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