Monday 30 September 2013

Day 16 (Thursday 26 September): Adventures in paradise


Today I was able to go on a fabulous trip to the reef with my family, one that I've wanted to do for over a year now: get to the reef w/o being seasick and take my mermaid snorkelling.  We took a helicopter from Hamilton Island out to Reefworld at Hardy's Reef. The flight was amazing. Our mermaid was totally in her element at the reef. She seriously was not at all afraid and was a fabulous swimmer and loved seeing everything. Alex had a great time and even came down the steep slide with me. Nick filmed with the GoPro and had a ball. The ride home was fine and all feel asleep exhausted. I'm thankful I had the opportunity to share this adventure with my beautiful family. 

Tuesday 24 September 2013

Day 15 (Wednesday 25 September): Background and possible treatment plans


I've been asked how I got to where I am with this. I can't say that I was phenomenally proactive. I happened to mention to my doc, during my Pap smear, that lefty felt a bit lumpy.  She checked it out and didn't think there was anything to worry about.  She sent me for a mammogram, then a biopsy then dealt me the blow. That all took less than 2 weeks.  I honestly had no idea that anything was wrong until the doctor's office rang to make an appointment after Dr. Karen had seen the biopsy results. Then I promptly baked a cake (!).  

The possible next steps will become clearer approximately 10 days post surgery on the 9th of October (at least I will be out of hospital as we celebrate Alex's 9th birthday on the 17th). First up is taking out what's growing (qty tumours  and size) and then finding out what stage it is (which is the part that requires the waiting). Then I'll get a treatment plan. It possibly starts with chemo if it's in my lymph nodes or blood stream or just really advanced or aggressive. If not, then it'll be straight to 6 weeks of radiotherapy. After all that I'll be on hormone therapy (yes, straight to menopause, which means that at least it won't happen when Remie's going through puberty so there is some upside) for 5 years. If I don't need any of those steps listed then then I go directly to the next one in the line up. Not much fun but all necessary to get it out. And now I understand why I was told I'm on a freight train speeding along. 

Day 14 (Tuesday 24 September): Normal

After a restful sleep (there is a plan) I arose to a normal day of heading off on a lovely holiday to Hamilton Island. I was a bit vague so thankfully Nick and the kids stepped up and got us out the door. After Scrabble with Alex on the flight, we arrived in a virtual paradise of golf buggies, a plethora of pools, a booking to go snorkelling at the reef, a day aboard a sailboat and a kids' club that my kids where my kids want to go. Very exciting! It all feels so normal. I love it!

I did turn to Nick this morning at some point and said something like "Wow. I have cancer. That's weird."  It took up lots of my head space about it during the trip (the Scrabble distraction did focus me elsewhere) but now that we are here I am in the present again.

I remember years ago, when I was going through my divorce, I was in my head lots of the time. My world as i knew it was over and my troubles were big. I couldn't quite connect with the world around me. I am fighting that now. I want to be here. Now. My world as i know it will end soon, but a new one containing great things i cant even begin to imagine will take its place.

I am here now. I am happy to have time to relax and enjoy and share in my kids' excitement. I am lucky.  I am enjoying feeling fine. I will take on tomorrow's challenges tomorrow, when they come.  Not now.


Monday 23 September 2013

Day 13: It's all in the perspective

I was lamenting the cosmetic side of this whole thing over dinner, given that I'm going to be lop-sided going into the summer beach season.  Nick simply suggested that I just go for a bright yellow thong as it would likely redirect any unwanted attention from my top half.  How's that for male problem solving?!?!

Sunday 22 September 2013

Day 13 (Monday 22 September): There is a plan

I arrived at the hospital 10 mins early for my 6.30a MRI this morning.  Go figure.  The sunrise drive to the hospital was lovely.  I did not enjoy the MRI but I managed to get on top of my panic by channeling all the positive people and events in my life.  I tried to use it as a breathing exercise (see, I have learned something from yoga).

I was finished by 7.40a and not scheduled to meet with Rebecca and Dr. Andrew until 9.30a so I rang Deb, who lives close by, and invited myself over with coffees.  We had a nice brekkie and chat in the morning sun in her garden and she reminded me that whatever happens I just want "clear margins".  Right!

Then it was back to the hospital to meet Nick, head to Imaging to pick up my films and over to the surgeon's office.  In we went to Rebecca's make-shift office to learn the news: it's widespread DCIS (pre-cancer) and small invasive cancer (at least that's what they suspect). The first step will be a mastectomy (left only) on Wed 9th with an expander (beginning of reconstruction) at same time. I'll be in the hospital up to 7 days. Follow on treatment TBD after pathology from the removal.

Bless my gorgeous childhood friend who's pointed out the positives as follows:
*Up to 7 nights without having to put anyone else to bed 
*You get the tv to yourself, no Octonauts 
*You get a free pass to splurge on ANY pricey bras at Victoria's Secret 
*Someone else will cook for you for up to 7 nights and no dishes to do 
*You get to demand lots of attention (In fact, this is a MUST!) 
*You get to ask for favors from anyone, guilt-free (this is also  a MUST!!)  

So how do I feel?  I'm not really sure.  I'm relieved to hear the words "pre-cancer".  I'm relieved that there's a plan for the first step.  I'd rather not have more of my body removed, but that's where I am.  I'm hoping that the surgery is a big part of this battle as it'll mean that the bad stuff is mostly out.  If not, I'll cross that bridge then.  For now, I'm going to get Remie to her allergist appointment, finish packing for our holiday and then go and enjoy 8 days of family time while I feel good (and still look even-sided in a cossie - oh, it's going to be a long summer...).  The future remains to be seen...

Saturday 21 September 2013

Day 12: How did I get so lucky?

I find myself wondering how I ever got so lucky to have such wonderful people in my life.  Support has poured in from all over and in all different ways and the train has only barely left the station.

I had a fabulous time last night with friends experiencing The Cat Empire live at the Enmore Theatre.  I can't thank the people who made it happen enough: Freddie for his selfless sacrifice of his ticket, Nick for sending me off and looking after the kids, Rach for insisting we dance, Jono for keeping us in drinks and Sue for the initial idea.

I suspect I'm going to have to lean on all of you, so thank in advance for all the help.  I hope to be able to repay it one day.

Friday 20 September 2013

Day 10 (Thursday 19 September): How long is a piece of string?

Have I mentioned that I don't like the unknown??  I actually feel ok with it at the moment, but that might just be denial.  More information will be useful, but I'm not sure that I really want it because when I have it this will actually be real.

I waited as patiently as possible for 10 days for my first appointment with "the surgeon", Dr. Andrew.  In my mind, he was the guy who was going to answer my immediate questions (how much is there, how bad might it be, when do we start moving, what's the likely treatment, what's the prognosis).  He was to be the one who would know about this cancer stuff.

After nearly 30 mins of waiting, his fellow, Rebecca, called us in.  She'd read my pathology.  She asked for my mammogram and ultrasound images.  She explained to us the picture that these two pieces of information gave her: early breast cancer (called DCIS), easily treatable.  The path includes lumpectomy and sentinel node biopsy (day or possibly overnight surgery, leaving everything in place but making my left side smaller after removal of the cancer) followed by radiotherapy for approximately 6 weeks.  I can handle this.

Then we move on to the "squeeze test" (exam).  Here she doesn't find what she expects. She takes out the ultrasound to have a look but can't see anything clearly. But she doesn't worry me.  Instead, she goes to get Dr. Andrew.  He comes in and has a look.  He questions Rebecca on what she recommends.  When she says that she thinks an MRI might be good because she isn't sure she has a good enough idea of what's going on he tells her "that's pure fence-sitting".  Then he, too, takes out the ultrasound.  He checks my lymph nodes, which he says look clear.  He has a feel and notes that there are some irregular lumps and some areas that are "alarming".  He then decides that I should go have an MRI.  Fence-sitter.

So I'm booked to be the first cab off the rank for an MRI at 6.30a on Monday.  They confirmed that an MRI is ok for my titanium hip (I swear I'm only 47!) and they have my details on file at the Mater Hopsital Imaging.  If they find anything "suspicious", they'll biopsy it. Yippee.  When I'm finished and have found a coffee and some food, I'll make my way back to see Rebecca and Dr. Andrew to discuss what we really have, when I go for surgery and what they'll do.

The upside is that we do get to go on our scheduled holiday to Hamilton Island in the Whitsundays.  We'll be able to take the kids snorkeling on the reef and they can ride around in the golf buggies.  They are so looking forward to it so I'm glad I don't have to disappoint them.  On this.  For now.  We will have a great time swimming and playing.  Life is too short not to.

Wednesday 18 September 2013

Day 9: The end of the waiting game draws near

Only one more sleep until I find out how bad it is and what next.  I'm glad I've had some time to research and digest as I now feel strong enough to go forth and conquer.  I am visualizing the "all clear party" as a goal.  I guess it's a bit like wading into the water at a triathlon, looking at the markers ("OMG they are far away!") and thinking about crossing the triathlon finish line.  I'm envisaging some helpful and entertaining volunteers on rescue boards who are there in case I need to have a rest and a chat along the way ;-)  Tomorrow I will receive my course briefing and gear up.  

I am very thankful for all the support I have received so far.  Fingers crossed I get to tell the kids we're going on holiday Friday as that will be a great way to win their initial support.  Ok, back to the unknown for a little longer...

Sunday 15 September 2013

Day 6: If I'm busy it can't be true

I am already tired and the fight hasn't even really started.  The kids' school fundraiser was last night so we got to bed past midnight and the kookaburras woke me up with their lovely song at 4.20a after which I dozed until 6.30a.  Then it was up and prep for Remie's 6th birthday party.  16 6-year-olds (ok, one was 7 and 2 were eight) ran riot at the tennis centre under the wonderful guidance of Scott, the instructor who ran the party.  They had a ball.  Remie loved all her pressies.  Then it was time to get home, finish homework and pack for our trip to Hamilton Island which may or may not start on 24th September (it's this grey area that I'm not enjoying).  As I was doing the dishes after dinner I had this fleeting thought that maybe "they" got the diagnosis wrong.  How's that for not wanting to face the truth?  It's 8.30p and I'm off to bed.  I'm sure it was all look better in the morning.

Day 6 (Sunday 15 September): Hot potato

Last night at the kids' school fundraiser I tried to pass this thing off to lots of people who will witness and/or be part of my journey.  I thought that maybe sharing would make it easier.  I think it actually just made it more real, like it is actually happening to me.  Darn.  Another plan backfired.  At least now I know people will be keeping an eye on my kids and will have an explanation for my behaviours in the coming months.

Day 5 (Saturday 14 September): Guardian Angels

I finally got a shower just past noon.  I was enjoying the warmth after an early-ish morning swim when Remie, my darling nearly 6-year-old, walked in to talk about God.  This is an ongoing topic in our house since both Remie and Alex, her nearly 9-year-old brother, do general Christian studies in school and neither Nick nor I would call ourselves believers. We must have had some discussion about guardian angels over the past term which Remie must have been pondering for awhile given the conversation we had as follows:

Remie: "Mummy, you know that if you believe in Guardian Angels you have to believe in God because he controls them and tells them when to go out and who to look after."
Me (liking the idea of having someone dedicated to looking after me and trying to feel her out): "Ok, I can go with that.  But why does God make bad things happen?"
Remie:" Mummy, when bad things happen God has a plan." She hten proceeds to tell me about some people in a well for 7 years and something about how they had food when others didn't.
Me (trying to get her to think this through): "So what was His plan when I had to have my hip replaced?"
Remie: "Well, Mummy, I think that maybe God wanted you to feel how much it hurts because you're always telling me that I should just be tough when I get hurt."  Interesting take.
Me: "So what if something else bad were to happen to me?"
Remie: "I think if something else bad happened to you then maybe it would be God's plan for Daddy, Alex and me to help out more."

Wow.

Day 4 (Friday 13 September): Thanks for sending me the rainbow

Perhaps if nothing else this journey will help ground me more in the present.  On my way home from my relatively early session at the gym this morning (I figured I'd do something productive as I wasn't sleeping and being with my thoughts was too scary), I saw the most beautiful rainbow.  It stretched across the harbour and I could almost see both ends.  I'd like to think it was some sort of sign but really I think it was just one of those "little things in life" that I actually stopped and appreciated.  

Day 3 (Thursday 12 September): They are coming out of the woodwork

As I start to share my "news" I'm finding that many people I know have had similar journeys.  One of my swimming mum buddies told me her story this morning very matter-of-factly, starting my pointing out that she is still here with us and telling us that she "was bald as a badger".  I'm finding comfort in these connections and strength in hearing of the bravery.  As I learn more about the process, the unknown is becoming slightly less scarier - to the extent that it can.  

Wednesday 11 September 2013

Day 2 (Wednesday 11 September): The Art of Hovering

I woke up to my new reality and thought: shit, this is going to be hard.  And I reminded myself that the only thing I can control is my attitude (for how many years have I said that?!).  I MUST focus on the positives.  I MUST NOT let myself go down the mental path of the "what ifs" and the "could be".  As Remie said last night in the bath (not having any idea what I had just learned): "Mummy, let's think about the good things in our lives".  So there you have it.

I am feeling much less panicked today having talked to two friends who have been down similar paths.  I will know more next Thursday when I consult with the surgeon, Dr. Andrew out of the Mater. Until then, it's not worth delving into the possibilities mentally.  I will stay above it all (I think it might be called denial) for another week. 

I am thinking that my hip replacement 18 months ago was a dry run or mere practice.  I'm confident in my strength and ability to survive getting knocked about.  This is today.  I'll go to bed on a high note.  Tomorrow is another gift and step in the journey.

Tuesday 10 September 2013

Day 1 (Tuesday 10 September): So I'm going on a new journey?!

Today I was diagnosed with breast cancer.  It's completely surreal.  I have to say I'm in total denial (and the wine helps).  I've been rabbiting on for 2+ years that "at least it isn't cancer".  I've been down the path of being terrified of what it all means for the body to fail.  I've had my failing body part marked with the "X" in texta and come out of surgery to the unknown of the recovery room.  I've survived having part of my body removed and replaced with man-made substances.  I thought it was all behind me.

Today I start another journey.  One that is a bit more life-threatening.  One that might see me need to say goodbye to my kids and husband before I ever imagined.  But one that I know I will approach in the same controlled and disciplined ways as I have all my other journeys.  I will learn what I can about my path and the options available.  I will endeavor to recruit travelling companions.  I will have faith in my abilities to rise to the challenges presented to me.  In short, I am prepared to fight.

I will also seek to appreciate every day.  I will try to find the best.  I know I will be cranky and scared and short of temper.  I hope those around me will help redirect me.  I will try to focus on the positives that result from this journey.  

The unknown is terrifying.  I am perched at the edge of the precipice.  I have been here before in other journeys.  For the ones I love, and for myself, I will do my best to survive the fall.