Well, I'm updating this blog at 6.30 in the morning of an extremely surreal day before. Let me explain...
The last round of chemo was due yesterday. I went through the usual build up to chemo by feeling quite low, with my legs extremely sore and achy and still not able to move well - climbing a flight of stairs completely wiped me out. In fact I saw the GP on recommendation of the chemo nurses who consequently wasn't able to help and saying this was just a side effect of the chemo. Great - I was left feeling extremely swollen all over, gained weight all over my body due to the steroids that I was taking and having tree-trunks for legs. So, perhaps one can understand my apprehension for going to the last chemo session - in particular on Thursday night by managing to hang out the last evening before chemo by going to bed as late as possible - 3.00am!
Anyway, we got to the hospital (hubby and I!) for the usual time Friday morning. Got called in to see the consultant, and after waiting for a while nothing quite prepared us for the news that was about to be delivered - after briefly chatting with the consultant he had decided to stop the chemo from going ahead. I amost did a double take, saying something stupid like "what, really - are you sure?" Although I was obviously pleased this was the recommendation I also did not want to jepordise complete recovery from this horrible disease. The consultant explained that as I have reacted quite significantly to the last 2 rounds of chemo with hospital admissions on each one that any benefits the chemo had was outweighing the side-effects I was going through. I sat there and just listened to this - immediate relief flooded in but I couldn't completely grasp that I wasn't going to have any more chemo - in particular as I had been preparing myself during the week (as I normally do) for the next chemo cycle, and having experienced so many nasty side-effects was also mentally preparing for the next hospital admission as I have felt so unwell in the past. So, having prepared so much for what would have been the last round of chemo has strangely taking a long time to accept that I now will not have to go through this anymore. I do, however still have to get over the swelling and problems this has caused my legs.
Then came the next out-of-the-blue news - as the chemo has been stopped this meant that the operation date for the mastectomy and removal of all lymph nodes in the axilla was to be bought forward - possibly for Thursday next week! I was happy with this suggestion as I just wanted all treatments to be over as soon as possible. To have this confirmed the lead nurse made the appropriate phone calls and did all the pre-admission checks there and then and informed me that she will call me later in the day to confirm the op for Thursday. During this time I was having the usual 3-weekly herceptin intravenous treatments as, although the chemo has stopped the herceptin will continue as the side-effects from this drug are minimal- that is compared to chemo. So, leaving the hospital became quite a surreal feeling with neither of us not quite knowing what to expect - or prepare for.
Well, what better way to 'celebrate' the end of chemo than visiting the nearest watering house!! As I have not touched alcohol since being informed that I would need to have chemo I thought this was long overdue - and so chatting with hubby about the oncoming weeks enjoyed my first tipple. It was then I had the phonecall from the hospital to confirm the op for Thursday. All plans were set to go. Still trying to come to terms with no chemo, it was equally as difficult coming to terms that the next focus was a major op. Both myself and husband have discussed this quite extensively at the beginning of all of this so we already are aware of the factors involved. But this doesn't take away the new feeling of reality hitting - hard. I am very aware of my husband's concerns - how will I feel once the op is over knowing that I will have one breast completely removed and to be padded out with a prothesis? At this stage if I'm honest I do think I will struggle slightly with this, but also knowing that the tumour has been completely removed will hopefully keep me on the level. And this is only temporary - for when the time is right (recommendations between 12-18 months) I would probably opt for a breast reconstruction - for me this will make me feel more 'womanly' again, although I am also aware my hubby will not see or treat me as anything different despite what happens.
As for today and the rest of this weekend - my purpose is to enjoy these last few days before Thursday - where afterwards recovery will take some weeks that will leave my shoulder, arm and chest sore and uncomfortable but (I have been told) pain can be kept at bay by strong painkillers. I think of this op as not having the same consequences as chemo did, however also aware this is permanent - but with good reason. It does feel like my life is starting to get back on track, as the chemo has been very demanding and tough that has required all my efforts in getting better on each successive cycle. I wonder now how I will feel about life after the op - nothing will please me more to get back to my old self but I have changed - and am going to change both physically and mentally over the oncoming week. Still not sure how to feel or what to expect. As the saying goes time will tell... And, of course, when things do change or I feel in the need to offload - guess what? - you know I'll be blogging again!!!
So, after many, many weeks, I’m finally writing in the blog.
ReplyDeleteWhat has made me do this I hear you ask?
(Well, I don’t actually, I’m at work and if I could really hear you asking I’d then be asking what you were doing in my office (unless, of course, you are a colleague of mine and do work in my office, in which case if I could hear you asking that question my reply would be stop reading over my shoulder!)).
I think it’s fair to say that the one thing that has prompted me to write again is sheer, blind panic!
Tomorrow, as you would have read in Sian’s entry, is ‘Operation day’.
I wish it were as simple as the name suggests - that a six-year old could simply reach in with a pair of tweezers, pull out the tumour and try not to make Sian’s nose light up along with a loud farting noise by touching the sides, before getting bored and moving onto a game of Twister. But, unfortunately this is not the case – this is pretty major surgery that will have significant impact on the future, and to be perfectly honest, this scares the hell out of me.
Hopefully, the fears and apprehensions we both have will be unfounded and all will be plain sailing but there are so many ‘what if’s’:
What if...
...they find evidence of a wider spread of the cancer
...something goes wrong during the operation
...what if the cancer comes back?
...Sian reacts badly to the physical changes after the operation...what if I do???
In answer to that last one, a knowing that Sian will be having more surgery in the future to rebuild the breast being removed tomorrow, I think it best to think of everything as ‘work in progress’. I wonder if Sian would take offence if I got a T-shirt made up for her with an ‘Under Construction’ sign over the mastectomy site?