acceptance – The BooBee Journey

Treatment 2: The aftermath – Going, going….. gone

In the interest of honesty and realism….. the last three days have been really tough. There has been so much doubt, a lot of tears and a lot of self reflection.

It started on Thursday. I just felt really down and emotional. I think it was coming off the steroids that triggered it. I was at home and couldn’t really bring myself to do anything. A couple of well timed visits from Mum and two friends, got me through the day.

I wanted to be getting excited, because on Friday I was going back to work. But I couldn’t muster the energy, even though I knew getting back to some normality is exactly what I need. I am done with sitting around thinking and reflecting, it’s time to move forward.

But something was niggling me…..

On Friday I awoke to a head of matted fluff masquerading as hair. I got in the shower hoping to give it a wash and make it look presentable. I wet it and it came out in clumps. It was 6:30am and I didn’t know what to do. I was too scared to shampoo, I was too scared to touch it. I drove to work in the rain with it dangling limply.

I walked in the door and was welcomed warmly by my beautiful work friends. The first thing I said was “I’m having a really bad hair day”. The girls were lovely and encouraging, buoying me up as best they could.

I got stuck into my day, feeling my way around my new non-clinical role. It was so good to be using my brain and to feel like I had something to contribute. The day flew by.

But…….. boy did I underestimate how much it would take out of me. By the time I got home I could barely speak. It took me 10 minutes just to get out of the car!! I walked in, turned on the oven (to reheat a meal delivered on Thursday) and got into bed.

Then I cried for an hour.

I realised, it wasn’t about work ….. it was my hair. Work had managed to distract me for a few hours but deep down, I knew the time had come. It had to go. But I still wasn’t ready.

This morning, after a sleepless night (despite being exhausted) I again woke to hair all over the pillow, an itchy scalp and lots of knots. I got in the shower and tried to wash it. As I massaged the shampoo I felt it tangle more and more. The drain was full, I was crying and yelling at Andy.

Get it off my head now!!

I started at it with the macrame scissors attacking the most matted areas. Then Andy came with the clippers. It was a relief and it was heartbreaking all at once.

I’m not ready to show you what it looks like just yet. Mr Bee did a brilliant job in my hour of need but I am seeing my trusted hairdresser this afternoon……. just to make me as presentable as possible but also to make me feel a bit more like me……. the girl who has her regular and religious appointments.

Getting back in the water!

I got in the car today and the song that came on Spotify was ‘Best day of my life’ by American Authors. I had the biggest smile on my face because I knew it was going to be true….. I was heading to the lagoon!!

The last swim I had was the 7th of January and mentally it has taken its toll. The water has always been where I clear my head and process life.

Boredom set in on Friday last week. For months I had been coping, gently pottering around getting little jobs done and making macrame. But suddenly….. it wasn’t enough and I was beginning to struggle with stillness.

To go from a busy (probably over committed) life, to days that have no structure or purpose, is hard. Friends and family point out, my ‘purpose’ should be to heal and recover but my mind says……surely I can multi-task?!!

So, for days I was struggling internally when it suddenly occurred to me…….. it was time to get back in the water. With the surgery wounds healed and heading into week 2 of treatment when symptoms are starting to subside, I felt strong enough and I knew that even if I just bobbed around, the salt water would soothe me.

I arranged to meet my lagoon buddy and we just did it! It was a glorious autumn morning, slightly crisp but sunny. Surf was good and the carpark was packed. The lagoon itself a turquoise haven, had an interesting current running and swell spilling in.

My anticipation and excitement was palpable. My friend kept me grounded and reminded me to take things very slowly. As we waded into the water, I could feel the tension in my body melting. Diving forward and submerging my head, I was back in my other world of fish, weed, rocks and salt.

My arms started moving automatically and I was swimming. Things felt a little bit odd and there was a tightness in my pectoral muscles stopping me from stretching to my full reach, but that didn’t matter. I made it out to the rock against the swell and I knew I was doing okay.

I managed 700m which I was quite pleased with. It was slow and my legs were like jelly but I was in the water. The further I swam, the more my muscles loosened but in the end, fatigue got the better of me. I lay on my back and floated around gazing at the sky.

Tonight I feel so much better, everything feels a little bit clearer and I am more content with where I find myself. I need to accept that it takes to time heal and enduring boredom is part of the process.

And yes….. today was one of the best days of my life. Hitting the water was like coming home.

My hair!!!

Wild, bushy, fluffy, thick, curly, ginger, beautiful. All words used to describe my hair over the years. So much of my identity in those many…… many strands.

If I lose it, do I lose my identity?

Of course not. As a friend kindly pointed out, I am much more than my hair or my boobs. I am tough, loyal, giving, a team player, a parent, a wife, a daughter, a sister and a friend. All of which I can do with or without hair.

For my husband, he has seen many transitions through my hairstyles, from quite severely short, to mid length, to long and back to mid length. This will just be another phase.

However, my hair ritual has always been very important to me. I have attended the same salon every six weeks, for sixteen years!! It isn’t just about my hair itself, it’s about the routine as my sister pointed out. The chat, the magazines, the cup of tea, the head massage and the connections are just as important as what is being done to my hair.

So today I went for my last full hair experience before chemo. Cut, colour, massage, blow dry and style. Plus the chat, magazine, tea, hugs and pamper. The girls made me feel special and today’s experience made me come to a decision.

I will fight for my hair, but I won’t put myself through hell to save it.

I have been deliberating over whether to try the cold cap offered to some chemo patients. The idea is to take the scalp temperature right down and constrict the blood vessels, reducing the amount of drug reaching the hair follicles. It is exactly what it sounds like, and means enduring an ice cream headache possibly for the duration of treatment (around three hours). Although some say after 15 minutes you go numb. It may or may not work.

So, I’ve had a chop to get good scalp contact and I’ll give it a try. If it doesn’t work or is too unbearable ………… well bald will just be my next phase.

One thing is for sure, hair or not, I can still go to the salon every six weeks for a massage, cuppa and a chat. I’ll be welcomed with open arms and it will help me to feel ‘normal’

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.

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.