(Please click on entry title to comment)
This morning, 12 months ago, I was preparing to go into hospital for my first surgery and this is the day it all became real. Prior to that I was in a fog.
So, this is the famous “journey” that gets talked about – at least my version of it. Lumpectomy with sentinel node removed (that was what I went in for a year ago) – I was recovering okay from that but with a lot of pain and numbness (yes, it does appear you can have both) from the node removal. Path reports back were not good so back into surgery on 8 January to have a mastectomy and more nodes removed as the cancer was on the move and quickly. It seems that the surgeon was able to get it all that time. Recovery much tougher and I developed cording. Pretty annoyed that I wasn’t able to swim all summer due to the risk of infection. And feeling overwhelmed by the cancer diagnosis and the fact that it’s now more serious and I was facing chemo as well as radiation. More surgery to have the portacath inserted at the end of January and in for my first chemo treatment at the beginning of February which turned into an absolute debacle. Tried again a couple of days later and thus began the 6 month dark tunnel of chemo treatment. Survived that only to be fried for three weeks having radiotherapy. And started 5, 7 or 10 years on hormone therapy. A few weeks to get over things, get the port out and back to work. Three weeks ago, I had my 12 month scans and was declared still cancer free or as much as they can tell from a mammogram.
So, I’m considered NED (no evidence of disease) and I’ve finished active treatment. Where am I now? I’m all better – right? Here is the picture of what all better looks like:
- Exhaustion like I’ve never experienced pre-BC
- Ongoing gut stuff
- Constant joint pain from hormone therapy
- Menopausal symptoms to the nth degree also from hormone therapy
- Ongoing cording problems
- Skin and muscle tightness from radiation
- Cognitive and memory problems
- Anxiety and depression (go figure)
- Lack of resilience (yes, you can make me cry really easily)
- Physical fitness has gone to hell
- Haven’t had a full night’s sleep in over a year (anaesthetic & chemo drugs don’t count)
- Hearing deterioration (probably from chemo)
- Probably others I can’t remember (see cognitive and memory problems)
So, all better – right? But I have made it through the year and I guess that makes me a survivor. To all intents and purposes, the cancer is gone and today is the only day I can know about. What happens tomorrow is in the unknown. All I do know is that I have done everything I could. If I die from this or something else in the near future, it won’t have been worth it. If I see my kids grow up and, even better, if I get to know them as mature adults, it will have been worth every symptom.
I’ve had some tough times this year, and my family has suffered those tough times with me. It has reminded me that there are some very generous people around me who have supported me and my family throughout. Some of these people I knew very well before BC, some were acquaintances and colleagues, others I had never met. Some did their thing face-to-face while others have given virtual support. I don’t have to name them because they know who they are and what they have done with their words, food and other, very needed, practical help. (And it would probably be like Gwynneth Paltrow at the Oscars – the list would go on…and on…)
I probably won’t post as much on this blog now if things continue the way they seem to be going although I may put the odd one up – it’s become as much of a journal for me as a way of communication. If I hadn’t been doing this, there would have been so much lost in the fog of treatment.
It’s been a busy few weeks leading up to today with appointments and Elena’s Year 7 graduation – it’ll be nice to have all 3 kids in the same school next year – and, of course, Christmas (bah, humbug!). But now I’m on leave for a few weeks and looking forward to a much-needed rest – well, at least once the ridiculous rush of the festive season is over. I plan to spend lots of time in and around the water this year.
A safe and happy Christmas and best wishes for 2019 to you and yours.