Pathology

My consultant says I bully her! I refused a drain to remove some fluid in the wound...It's all normal stuff but I've been invaded enough and the fluid will go away itself in time. Wound check and pathology. The words invasive and aggressive are still hanging in the air. They sound scary, but she reassures me that for someone my age to go through cancer, this is expected. Chemotherapy and radiation are discussed. I am so not looking forward to it.

My sister's roped me into an article for the Daily Record. My sister loves the limelight. I tend to shy away from it, but it will give us a chance to highlight the importance of gene testing and regular self checks...the joys of cancer!

The peace of emptiness

If you had told me at Christmas that by the end of February I would have a positive diagnosis for breast cancer, have a mutated gene and have undergone breast surgery not to mention a whole barrage of tests, I would have told you that you had a case of mistaken identity. As I said before, I wholeheartedly believed that I would not fall victim to cancer...I was and felt healthy (still do). Nevertheless, I have moved through denial, grief and into a weird sense of acceptance. What else is there left to do. If I don't accept I'll end up feeling negative, stressed and angry and that won't lead me to heal. I need to move forward and heal.
Walking my dog has been a great source of therapy. The country roads quiet and beautiful. Before all of this my head was full of stuff...what I needed to do, worry about stuff, money, family, children. But now, there is nothing. The diagnosis eclipsed all the stuff I used to worry about and now that I have reached acceptance there is a strange sense of stillness...a peace in the emptiness of my mind that I have never experienced before.

A new day dawns

On my surgery day, Monday, my sister arrived at the crack of dawn to escort me to the hospital. She volunteered for the pitiful task, probably worried that I would chicken out and stand up the consultant  and her scary scalpel. My nerves helped me to forget my pangs of hunger while I fasted. I had an MRI and waited for what seemed an age. But then they came for me. I walked behind my bed into the theatre reception. I thought about how weird it was, walking to surgery, when I had to go in a chair for tests. The theatre staff were professional but emphatic and I was sent into a deep slumber with ease. The rest of Monday was just a blur with images of waking briefly to go back to the ward and for observations. It was done.

My stay in hospital although brief was frustrating. I didn't want the drains in and I wanted to be home (I had very little discomfort, in fact I only took ibuprofen and paracetamol to reduce inflammation and ensure that I felt ok.) My consultant was revered by her colleagues and while she was absent on Wednesday, no-one would make a decision to override her instructions, so I was stuck in another day. Finally, on Thursday she arrived after lunch. I cried when she suggested only taking out one drain and sending me home, but my begging worked, and she relented to taking them both out.

I awoke on Friday after a great sleep and feeling more positive than I had in a while. I had, had great support (still do) from my fantastic husband who had stepped up to the mark and played mum and dad while I was away. He even did the housework! My sister has been a rock from before diagnosis and being there for me through it all despite having reconstruction surgery herself.  My close friends (you know who you are) have been there when I needed to talk, shown me that I am not alone (I'm not the best at accepting help!) and showered me with flowers and even food while in hospital! I am blessed and grateful. It means more to me as I don't have parents to lean on that my family and friends have been there for me...thank you!

Getting ready

Surgery tomorrow...I'm feeling butterflies. I'm getting ready as most women and mothers would, by getting the housework up to date, ironing kids uniforms for next few days and writing endless lists for hubby, so he knows what to do. I know he does, the lists are for me really! The bag's packed with new pyjamas and toiletries. I am reminded about the last time I bought new pyjamas, it was when I was going into hospital for my caesarian...I'm trying hard not to compare, not to think that I won't be bringing home a wonderful new package this time, but leaving something behind, something dark. The silver lining here is my chance to keep living, so I won't think about the dark, only the light shining out from behind.

No way back

I hate waiting, I'm just not a very patient person and the next week I waited on the news that I had already been given, confirmed. When I saw the consultant again with my husband and she told us that the results were positive, I felt as if I was being told all over again. I guess most people hope that they must surely be wrong but, the look on my poor shell shocked husband told me they weren't. The news wasn't that great either. Node involvement and possible spinal hotspots! Was there no end to the bad news?

The nurse also spoke with me...surgery, chemo, wigs....arrggghhhh! Wake me up please!

More waiting..spinal MRI and team discussion as what to do with me. Another stressful week! 

Despite the horribleness of the situation, I couldn't complain about any of my care so far. The Consultant and staff so caring and considerate at every step. My tests done within an incredibly short space of time and again the staff professional and efficient. The only negative is the waiting on results which takes time to report due to the volume waiting to be assessed. 

What a shame that this wonderful service is being slowly privatised through the back door. I dread the day that our care will be determined on our level of health insurance and that those companies will determine if you qualify for a test or operation. God help us!

Valentine's Day and good news?

Today I awoke to beautiful, Valentine's roses and perfume from my husband, and my sister had brought me a wonderful pendant necklace, which was handmade by herself, to a request I made some time ago (a Reiki symbol).  Let's hope today would go on the way it started.

My sister came with me today..I needed her strength. I wasn't sure that I would be able to make sure that the consultant would go with what I wanted.

I had already emailed her with questions about my care and spoken with her on the phone but I wasn't sure what her team had decided on. 

I had no sooner sat down than I was being whisked away for another ultrasound! My lymph nodes were being checked on both sides...and there was some good news it looked like only one node!

There was more good news, the spinal MRI was clear. I breathed my first sigh of relief and so did my sister! (and my poor hubby when I let him know)

Back at the clinic, the consultant wanted to wait another week and get an MRI done first. I had to speak up. I told her, with conviction, that I couldn't wait...waiting didn't work for me...I needed, wanted surgery asap. I wanted the cancer OUT! Then chemo, then reconstruction. Both my sister and I persuaded and put forward our argument and then she said..."oh all right! People think I'm bossy but I've just been pushed over by someone half my size!"

So that's it...the plan...the path that I just need to keep walking till I reach the side where the sun comes out..and stays out!

About Me

I am just like you...an average woman. I'm married to a loving, supportive husband with two fantastic children and a cheeky, happy dog. I was in the throes of building my cake design business when my life changed and the path I thought I was walking suddenly veered off down somewhere scary, dark and unfamiliar. This is my story and journey...

The Story So Far

When something not so good happens it's quite natural to ask 'why me?' Sometimes there are reasons or choices you have made that lead you to your current situation, sometimes there are not.

Nine years ago my lovely sister was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was a severe blow to us all. I remember feeling helpless and unsure of what words I could say to make things better. We all watched though as she bravely worked her way through surgery, chemo and radiation without barely a complaint. She sure showed breast cancer the door and over the years has been actively raising money for research, supporting others as a running coach, lecturing and now also currently doing a PhD about breast cancer and exercise.

My sister was aware that our Italian grandmother (on our father's side) may have also had breast ca so she pushed to be genetically screened. The result was positive for the BRCA2 gene. Living under the constant veil of fear, waiting on cancer rearing it's ugly head ahead she made the brave decision to go ahead with prophylactic surgery. As before, she is successfully and speedily, making her way back to normality.

My sister likes to nag (or maybe I should say nudge you along) and she discussed the benefits to me of taking the test too. Where my children come into the picture I will always strive to make decisions that will benefit them, so I guess there really was no option..I needed to know. 

I remember the morning I took the test. I listened to the soft spoken, kind eyed genetic counsellor explain all about it. I assured her I wanted the test, after all, cancer couldn't, wouldn't be part of my life!

I don't recall asking the universe for this...

When the phone rang on the 30th December, my husband handed me the phone, "it's someone called Sarah". With a puzzled look I answered the phone and when she started to talk I realized it was the genetic counsellor. She was apologetic, sorry to be calling before New Year, unsure whether I wanted to know the outcome of the test during the festive period. I assured her I am not the type of person that likes to wait, after all, I felt I knew the outcome would be negative (there is a 50/50 chance if the gene is in your family tree) cancer wouldn't be part of my timeline...right!?

"I'm sorry the result is positive." Sarah's words hung in the air. I felt confused, uncertain. It was a blow that I was unprepared for and I needed time to re-evaluate my thoughts on the matter.

I saw the counsellor the next day, Hogmanay. I guessed I wouldn't be celebrating much that night. I cried that day in her office as I told her that this wasn't supposed to be. Sarah patiently, and professionally outlined all my options..regular mammograms/ultrasounds, drugs such as Tamoxifen or prophylactic surgery. I already knew my answer, it was prophylactic surgery to reduce the risk as much as I could (for me there was no doubt, I wanted to be there for my family).

http://www.cancerresearchuk.org/cancer-help/type/breast-cancer/about/risks/breast-cancer-genes

Really!

It took me a while to get my head around this whole BRCA2 thing. Why? It's not fair? I was just getting round to a level of acceptance and the referral letters for the breast, gyn and plastics were arriving which was helping me to come to terms with this whole nastiness. 

On the week before my first visit with the consultant to discuss it all, I felt a lump. A cold panic swept over me. I tried to reassure myself that, that side was always lumpy...but a nagging feeling wouldn't go away, even after my sister tried to reassure me.

On the 31st January I headed to see the consultant. I kept telling myself that cancer is not part of my timeline. I sat looking around the waiting room wondering what people were there for, what stage were they in treatment?

One lady left looking delighted - clear for another year!

I was finally taken. The consultant was warm, friendly, motherly almost. She had no sooner examined me before she quickly disappeared out of the room. I was worried. She came back announcing she had organised a mammogram, ultrasound and biopsy right away.

The mammogram was like a painful torture chamber. I almost fainted because I held my breath so long during each long, bloody, tightening squeeze. I imagined squeezing the testicles of the man who designed the damn machine inside the plates of it, smiling with each tightening. Well it helped to distract me for a bit. The biopsy was a walk in the park in comparison. During it all, I was aware that the staffs' overall manner moved from efficiency to sympathy...I knew then what I was going to hear next.

The Worst News In The World!

...and then she told me the worst news I have ever received, ever! "You have cancer" She was emphatic, supportive all you could want when hearing those ugly words but, those words were all I could hear.

The next week passed in a stressed blur. Trying to reach some state of acceptance I overhauled my diet completely (I discuss this in another post). I was going to remain in control, stay positive. I distracted myself with the diet changes and letting close friends/family know. My sister was nagging..I mean giving me snippets of positive advice! I knew she meant well as did my close friends but I guess my journey along that uncertain path had truly commenced and I felt scared for me and my lovely family.