recovery – 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 🎉🎉🎉🎉

‘The comeback is greater than the setback’

Early in this journey a friend sent me the above quote. I loved it then and I love it now. It has been on my mind this week as I feel my strength returning and as Amber 2.0 is beginning to emerge.

There are changes I am noticing in the way I am approaching things…..

Things that used to scare me don’t (like helicopter rides).

Things that I found challenging aren’t (like being patient in a waiting room, love my sudoku).

I’m more likely to say what I want, I’ve got nothing to lose (you can always say no!).

I’m getting on and doing it (not just thinking about it).

I am finally starting to feel like me again but with improvements. I’ve got hair (albeit grey). I’ve got life. I’ve got health. I’ve got eyebrows!

The biggest change in my outlook this month has been focusing on exercise, both for my physical and mental health. I have been taking a rehabilitation gym class with a physiotherapist. Each week I surprise myself at how much I have improved and it feels so good.

I am swimming twice a week and for the first time in years I am back in the pool, having favoured the ocean. I forgot how much swimming is like meditation. Rhythm and flow. The black line is my friend.

There is no doubt I am coming back stronger. I won’t be taking life for granted anymore. Life is for living and with spring around the corner, I am looking forward to what is next.

Cancer free?

How can I feel cancer free when every time I look in the mirror, I see a cancer patient. Chemotherapy is cruel in so many ways but the way it lingers on is so bloody frustrating.

I realised this weekend I am already sick of my hats, and the scarfs are just too complicated some days. The reality is I could be like this for months yet.

Do I get a wig?

Do I order more hats?

Is there a magic hair growing serum?

I just want to be normal again. I know I have to be patient, but it is so hard and frustrating and paralysing and grrrrrr

Don’t worry I’m okay, I just needed a rant and….. I’ve ordered more hats.

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.

Treatment 1: The aftermath

So far so good. It’s only day 3, so I’m not getting too excited yet. I feel very chemical……. I’m excreting it, exhaling it and crying it. I can feel it everywhere.

I am going to describe something that will likely make me sound a bit crazy but bear with me, it’s just because I am a visual person…..

A few weeks ago, I described to a friend about how antibiotics are like a little cleaner man, running around your body, sweeping germs out of the corners. Well….. if that was my analogy, then chemotherapy is like having an army inside you. They have guns, tear gas, grenades and other chemical warfare. They are running, ducking and weaving. Diving and rolling. Searching and searching.

I am not a person who believes in war, except in this case. My body is at war and I am encouraging those soldiers to get the job done. Find any little runaway cells, the rouges and defectors and kill them dead, in whichever manner they need to.

From the outside, I am still looking and feeling ok. A bit bloated from steroids and tired looking, but I am getting on with my days. The macrame orders are coming along nicely and I am resting when needed. I managed a 20 minute walk last night.

More than anything I am staying positive. This little blip in the road will not get me down. It will make me stronger. Cancer, you picked the wrong person to mess with.

But, I’m not going to pretend I feel this positive all the time. I had a moment last night, where I suddenly felt acutely aware not only of the chemicals inside me, but of the tissue I’ve lost. I shed a few tears. It was the first time I’ve mourned the part of me that is gone forever.

I haven’t written about the surgery I chose, simply because I believe everyone should make their own decisions. Every breast cancer, the circumstances surrounding it and the person fighting it, are different. I would not want to sway anyone. My choice and reasonings, belong only to me. I have alluded to it along the way, but I won’t share the complete details on this forum (happy to talk or private message though).

Anyway, I’m all good and just plodding along gently.