anxiety – The BooBee Journey

Recurrence scare number 1

It has taken me weeks to write about this. I started and stopped twice. I just didn’t know how to put my thoughts into coherent words!

Two weeks ago I had a small surgery. Not surprisingly, it triggered all kinds of emotions. As I lay in the holding bay for theatre, I remembered the fear and the lack of control. The questions…. How big is the cancer? Is it in the lymph nodes? Will I need chemo? Will this kill me? It all came flooding back coupled with the new fear….. has it spread?

As I recover from this surgery, I realise this is my life now. Whilst I have healed from the breast cancer surgery and chemotherapy, the fear will always be there. It is something I have to learn to live with.

A friend from the ‘Sh*tty T*tty Committee’ told me this quote when we met over the weekend.

‘You are never out of the woods but learn to live between the trees’ (or something like that, I may have it slightly wrong!)

It is so pertinent.

Having spent most of this year in treatment mode, I have ticked off each step in my mind; surgery, chemo session 1,2,3,4, hormone blockers, surgeon visits, oncologist visits, and then entered into the rehabilitation phase with my physiotherapist, dietitian, psychologist, massage therapist, hairdresser and many more amazing professionals.

But now I enter the next phase, one I will never escape. I will always be a post breast cancer patient. I know that sounds very dramatic and I have purposely written it down to make myself understand. I had been living this year with the intention of conquering this thing by Christmas. I could put it all to bed and move on.

Whilst some of that is true, I had completely discounted the recurrent fear. Something very hard to overcome. The crazy lead up to Christmas will always remind me of the year I squeezed in the ultrasound appointment right before Christmas only to discover….. I had cancer.

But………

I will always be looking for ways to cast the fear aside. I will always be distracting myself by living my best life, experiencing as much as I can traveling, swimming and exploring new hobbies.

I will dodge those trees with vigour as I learn to live amongst them!

P.S. The results of this latest surgery were benign 🎉🎉🎉🎉

Here I go….. Treatment 1

It’s only 3 months of my life. 4 cycles of treatment. I can do this.

This morning I woke, and keen to follow all instructions I went for a walk around the block. With each step I felt stronger and more determined. I wanted to keep walking, if I could have walked to Bunbury, I would have! But I needed to get home and get steroids in, step two in the process.

My chemo buddy arrived to a stressed house. I was very anxious and rushing about the house with everything half done. Of course this was rubbing off on the other family members. Things were tense, but chemo buddy managed to diffuse the situation and get me sorted.

We headed to Bunbury. Once in the hospital I actually relaxed. I guess being a medical person, and being treated in a hospital I have worked in for many years, it was familiar and I felt safe. Probably the complete opposite to the average patient. I saw people I knew and got hugs in the hallway.

Early on, we got to have a great laugh trying on the free headwear. We really weren’t sure what this one was about or how it should be worn but agreed it looked like something out of Star Wars.

Once in the treatment bay, things got underway quickly and I am remaining calm and comfortable throughout. The dreaded cold cap is absolutely fine, it seems all those tight swim caps and winter lagoon swims were good preparation.

As I sit here with the second drug running. I can say this isn’t as bad as I thought. I think the hard part will be over the next few days when I really start to feel the effects of the drugs, but at least I know I can bear the cold cap and I am doing the best I can to hold onto some hair. But, if it goes it goes.

Thank you for all your kind wishes and messages of support over the last few days. These give me strength during this challenging time.

I’ve got this, and with the help of family and friends I will come through this stronger and wiser. Soon it will be a distant memory.

Asking for and accepting help

This is a continuation of my last blog post https://theboobee.blog/2025/02/19/to-tell-or-not-to-tell/. What happens once people know…..

I have never been very good at accepting help. I never, never ask anyone for help, because in my mind it is a sign of weakness. To me, it means I am not capable of sorting myself out. I would rather ‘bust a gut’, ‘run around like a headless chicken’ and almost systematically feed my anxiety, just to prove I can do it all.

But the situation I now find myself in, has made me look back and realise how silly that all sounds. Who was I trying to prove myself to??

The answer of course is……………. me. No one else ever put that pressure on me or expected me to do everything…………… except perhaps my children. But, that is purely because I created that kind of environment and those expectations at home. I did so much for them, that it became an expectation.

In this modern world, everyone is busy and caught up in their own stuff. None of us are immune. Sometimes we completely loose sight of those around us and what they can do for us, but also what we can do for them. We are afraid to put burdens on each other because we are barely coping with our own shit, without taking on someone else’s.

But when something like the big C comes along, somehow an army of people around me, created space in their lives to help. From meals and baking that arrived on my doorstep, to the crafts and activities, to the friend who sat and crafted with me, to those that drove me places, to those that made sure my children were doing ok, to medical advice and supplies, to today’s homegrown vegetable delivery and weeks of beautiful messages of support.

I didn’t ask for any of it, but I certainly appreciated every single bit of it. And for the first time I was able to accept it all without feeling terrible about troubling people. It’s because I felt like a had a valid excuse to accept it! (So silly) But what I noticed, was how much they were getting out of it too. Not only was it helping me, it was helping them to feel useful and needed.

It is proven that volunteering is one of the most healthy things you can do for yourself. It offers a sense of fulfilment, breaks your daily routine and offers new relationships. The whole crux of being needed as a volunteer is that someone asked for help in the first place. Nothing to be ashamed of, but something to be celebrated. It shows bravery, self awareness and a healthy knowledge of boundaries and capabilities.

So, one of the many things I am learning on this is journey, is that it is okay to admit you need help, to accept the help of friends and family as well as strangers. You never know what beautiful relationships may develop.

I received a message of well wishes the other day from a lady whose dog my daughter and I walked for 2 years when she was not able. We developed a special relationship that I had almost forgotten about because I was too ‘busy’. Her circumstances changed and we rarely see her. Having heard my news, she sent messages of love and support.

It reminded me that, although it is impossible to keep every relationship alive and current, we can always send our love when needed, and whatever little thing we can do to help, will be appreciated. And, above all……… when you need it……….. never be afraid to ask for help.

P.S Let’s see if I can heed my own advice!

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

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