Keeping It In Proportion
April 2012
So, where to start – perhaps with others, rather than
myself. Andy and I are very conscious
that we have really dear friends and family currently facing much more serious
health issues than mine, cancer and otherwise.
That assists wonderfully in providing a lesson of keeping it in
proportion. As most will know two of my
very best friends in the universe were both given cancer diagnosis last August
/ September.
My lovely Cornwall friend Jacq received her breast cancer
diagnosis in August, and has written a blog throughout (she’s where I nicked
this blog idea from – she knows I’m copying – imitation – the sincerest form of
flattery!). Wonderfully, she’s just
about through her treatment now – only two more weeks to go and she’s flying
free again!! We thank her for her
positive example, and inspirational determination not to be defined by her
cancer, but only by her own super-positive outlook on life in general.
My wonderful
lifelong friend Chris received her terminal lung cancer diagnosis in September
2011 – initially with a time frame of 12 to 18 months left on this planet. Well, in the event she died on Easter Sunday
this year. Andy & I were lucky
enough to be there all over Easter weekend – it was a privilege. It was amazingly peaceful and loving and I
swear she was happy because she was surrounded by people who loved her
deeply. So, 34 years of friendship
brought to a conclusion, as is now her very unusual life and way of approaching
her time on earth. All I can say is what
a gift it has been to share so deeply so many of her 52 years.
And now, Dave,
Andy’s brother-in-law diagnosed with lymphoma, and in a much more serious
situation than I myself – we send him every blessing, and good luck. Previously, other members of Andy’s family
with other cancers, and now through their treatment. My Mum and 20+ years of heart problems,
numerous operations … and still with us … thanks NHS.
It seems cancer
(all the 200+ types) currently affects 1 in 3 of the UK population, so we will
all know several people on this journey, or who have already completed the
journey. It seems to me it’s the disease
of our times. In the sense that whenever
we happen to live in history, and in whatever society, there’s always a major
disease (or several), and this is ours.
In that sense I’m not at all surprised to be included in the 1 in
3. I’m sure there were some teenage
years when I thought statistics somehow didn’t apply to me personally, but
those years are far behind now, so I don’t feel surprised at all.
All of life,
obviously, is learning, so Andy, Fran and I are now learning about the world of
cancer first-hand. Its ok, it’s not as
scary as it could be by any means, and actually we’re finding it all quite
interesting. Andy has turned into
super-researcher extraordinaire in addition to all the talents we already knew
he has. His particular talent for
spreading calm is definitely coming in handy.
We’re not claiming total lack of shock and similar – that’s all in the
mix as well. Since Chris’s death we’ve
been a house of tears, but after all they can be cleansing, so good. And, again, as we all already know the price
of love can always be loss, so only natural.
It seems this is a
very interesting time to have cancer.
Just as the whole UK treatment emphasis is moving from
generalized treatment, and aggressive over-treatment for all, to more specific
and targeted treatments for each individual.
We’ll all be hearing the daily tv and radio discussions on imminent
changes to treatments – very interesting stuff.
However, I’ve fallen into the current NHS systems – had I been diagnosed
next year I feel it’s likely my entire treatment regime would be radically
different. Just to be clear – that’s not
a complaint, just a point of interest.
Had I not been lucky enough to find this cancer this year, in its early
stages, next year, who knows, the diagnosis may have been terminal. So I’m definitely counting myself lucky, as
it isn’t.
Ok, off we go on
the journey. I’ll attempt to get the
medical stuff right, but the accuracy might not be 100%, so bear with me!
Diagnosis to Operation
January/February/March 2012
Lump found January this
year. GP referred me to hospital for
mammograms, ultrasounds, and core biopsy.
Formal hospital diagnosis given to Andy and I at 5pm on Thursday 9th February together with an
offer of surgery at 10am on Friday 10th February. Lord above – we really can’t complain about
NHS waiting times! However, Andy and I
had a similar reaction. Apparently most
people would have taken that offer. We
needed thinking time, so opted for surgery a week later on Friday 17th
February. We spent the intervening week
researching like mad. Apparently lots of
people ask no questions at all. We had
lots – really lots of questions.
- The formal diagnosis is breast cancer : invasive ductal carcinoma / hormone receptor positive & HER-2 negative. The good news is it is small (30mm), and it hasn’t spread to my lymph nodes, therefore in theory hasn’t traveled to elsewhere in my body. The bad news is it is aggressive (grade 3) and being fed by my own oestrogen.
- The plan is surgery on 17th February, followed by 3 weeks radiotherapy, and 5 years tamoxifen - and no chemotherapy required. The surgery is a wide local excision (a lumpectomy), so I’m lucky and am able to avoid a mastectomy – it was offered as a possibility, but not recommended. All done by the end of March 2012! Sounds fab, sounds manageable (hint - that changes later).
- Consequently, we decided not to tell friends and family at this point. Plenty of them have bigger issues to deal with than this.
- So, a whirlwind week 10th to 17th February. We had a couple of gorgeous Chinese students staying (Danqi Shen and Xixi Jin), who left on Saturday 11th. We hadn’t mentioned it to them 9th and 10th because they made us very happy and we didn’t want to spoil our last couple of days together.
- The day before the op involved a trip to the Nuclear Medicine department for a sentinel node imaging scan. Blue radioactive dye injected to assist the surgeon to see what’s she’s doing. I’m all in favour of the surgeon being able to see what she’s doing! A super-quick, super-simple process, with the interesting side-effect of blue wee for the next couple of days! On to the op.
- Op day 17th February – all went ok. As far as the surgeon is concerned, this is not complicated surgery (all surgery seems fairly mind-blowing to me – for a start cancer cells are invisible – how do they even start?). Andy and I got in a couple of games of verbosity whilst waiting (I beat him hands down). I was even allowed to come home the same day, which felt really, really good
- Nurses advice – no housework or similar for …. ooh… ages. Suits me just fine (cheers Andy).
- After a few drugged and bruised lounging about days I got a bit lax, forgot I was still post-op, and overstretched … resulting in a haematoma (a localised collection of blood) pressing on my ribcage. I’ve never had broken ribs, but imagine this may be how it feels… amazing pain … for 2 weeks. It was eventually drained … what a relief!
- Results clinic on 1st March. Operation totally successful – the surgeon is very pleased with herself – me too. What a woman. Thanks. After which Andy, Fran and I went out for the best celebration dinner ever at Plunkets - my favourite restaurant. With real champagne no less, courtesy of my lovely Fran! (cheers Fran).
- On to the next stage – next blog in a while.
