Sitting in my own bed, with my new pyjamas on, drinking tea out of my own cup. Exhausted.
Coming home has brought with it a whole lot of conflicting emotions. As my friend J put it so well - I have come home to the same old same old yet I am not the same. In Hospital you are removed from reality and what has happened to you fits in that space - but once out, you start to process what has happened and it doesn't seem to fit quite the same.
The day started very early as usual and my anticipation anxiety around the drain removal was high. The Registrar and student Dr's came in for their last check. I appreciated her honesty when I questioned her about the drain removal (I had conducted quite a large survey about this - not always the best thing to do). She admitted that she had no personal experience but that she had had many reports to say that it was tolerable.
I gladly took the offer of the the two heavy duty pain killers and then laid back with earphones in to try and relax.
It was at this point I really regretted not being more diligent in my meditation practise but grateful for the power of analgesics.
So the moment arrived. In came the nurse educator with another nurse, Marcel, who I assumed was fairly new on the job. She asked if it was OK if she took out one drain and he took out the other. With no concerns for anyone's feelings but mine I refused and requested that she did both. A small exercise of power.
Now I don't know if the drugs masked the pain but it was far less traumatic than I anticipated.
First they take out the little stitch and then 5 deep breaths and on the fifth out it came. Now I will never know if Marcel would have done a good job but he certainly got full marks in the hand holding test.
I am not sure where this anxiety comes from because nearly everything that has been done to me has hurt less than expected - with the exception of the needles under the nipples and at least I will never ever have to experience that again.
So with drains out I felt released. Everything felt better. The shower was the next stop. An untethered wash is truly a glorious thing. With nothing to distract me, I did spend some time looking at my new chest. It is getting easier each time. There are bits of my upper body that I haven't really seen for a very long time - they were covered by 2 saggy boobs. Or maybe it is just that I can see them from a new perspective - looking down.
It doesn't scare me as much and Dr Dave is right - he has done a good job.
No such thing as a late checkout with hospital beds. Once I was marked "for discharge" my bed was quickly reallocated and I was moved - with all the stuff I had accumulated into a quiet room to await my ride home. As I zipped up my suitcase, I realised just what I state I must have been in the night before my surgery. I have no idea when I thought I would wear the 4 different outfits, the 8 pairs of undies and the 4 singlet tops that I packed. Denial - I was packing for a weekend away.
My gorgeous friend E and her mum arrived to take me home.
So after 5 days, one hell of a life altering experience and the very best the public health system has to offer ( with the exception of the boiled brussel sprouts) I was ready to leave the cocoon of my hospital ward and head home.
Getting into the car I had my first sense of being different. It was a weird feeling as I experienced my new body interact with the familiar.
E checked if the seat belt was OK and I replied we were fine as long as she didn't stop suddenly.
As we drove along I had a sense that something was missing and then of course I remembered - I had left my boobs at the hospital.
I can't explain it but I was really aware of the vulnerability of my body.
I arrived home to be greeted by N and a clean house. I think he was glad to have me home. I sense that he is unsure of how he should treat me and that he is concerned about any pain I may be in. ( he has just bought me in a cup of tea and my hot water bottle)
The whole transition to home was exhausting and E and her mum tucked me into bed and I slept.
I am glad to be home even if the emotions have been a surprise.
My challenge as always will be take my own advice and remember that even though there are only 2 very neat and clean wounds on my chest, the trauma to the area underneath has been enormous. My body is working continuously to heal itself.
Sleep and rest will be my best friends - along with all the amazing people who are rostered on to look after me this week.
The cup of tea is finished so I guess that means it is time for my first nights sleep with my new body in my old bed.
As always...
P xx
Monday 30 July 2012
Sunday 29 July 2012
Last hospital night
With a little bit of luck, tonight will be my last night in hospital.
Home tomorrow.
There has been much organising in preparation for my return. My bestie M loves a good project to manage and she has created a spreadsheet with a roster of people to visit, help me out and make sure I am not doing too much. She is the best project manager and friend a post double mastectomy girl can have.
I am really overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity of so many people who have stepped into my corner to make this whole thing a little less challenging.
Today my home was visited by Ethel, who spent 2 hours cleaning so that I would come home to a clean house. A call was put out for people to contribute to a gift for me and due to the amazing generosity of a large number of people I will now have Ethel for the next few months. I think this is the equivalent of getting a nappy service when you first get home from hospital with a newborn. I will thank everyone individually but if you happen to be reading this and you are one of my cleaning angels then from the bottom of my dirty bathroom I say thank you.
In addition N and I will also be well fed. I will miss the anticipation of lifting the lid of the hospital closh (no idea how to spell it but George used it on Masterchef all the time when he lifted the lid to reveal whatever was under it) to see what delights awaited me. I trust grey steamed brussel sprouts will not be part of any meal that is delivered.
The last day in hospital has been a quiet one. Dr Dave popped in again and is still really pleased with my progress. We discussed life, cancer and everything in between. I like his way of using analogies to explain things and his matter of fact way of telling it like it is. He also promised me that having my drains taken out tomorrow wont hurt.
Sure it won't hurt him, just hope it won't hurt me. Must confess to a little anticipation anxiety.
I have worried about N all day today. Just can't help myself. Ducatilad has been taking great care of him but I still feel that I should have been there. Has been tough - tougher than it needed to be. I will be glad to get home and just be able to be there for those incidental conversations that you have with an 18 year old son.
I was inspired today by the Olympics and managed to achieve a few personal bests. First was in the solo shower event. I was able to perform the tricky manoeuvre of showering without really looking too closely at your body while balancing the drainage bottles on the sink. And in the slow shuffle around the ward event I clocked two laps in under 5 mins. I actually had to do some extra laps as I struck a deal with the nurse. No blood thinning injection if I stretched my calves and got moving. Both better than gold.
As I prepare myself for my last sleep in my bed with a view, I have had to say goodbye to Ducatilad. He is catching a plane home tomorrow at 7am and I couldn't hide him in the single hospital bed all night.
I don't need to make public declarations about what we share but in my letter to Dr Dave you may remember that I stated that I had complete faith in the resilience of those who loved me to deal with whatever we had to. This past 5 days has simply confirmed that.
He has taken care not only of me but also everyone else who comes as part of my package. I feel treasured and know that to him I am still me in every single way.
That is a nice way to be.
P xx
There has been much organising in preparation for my return. My bestie M loves a good project to manage and she has created a spreadsheet with a roster of people to visit, help me out and make sure I am not doing too much. She is the best project manager and friend a post double mastectomy girl can have.
I am really overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity of so many people who have stepped into my corner to make this whole thing a little less challenging.
Today my home was visited by Ethel, who spent 2 hours cleaning so that I would come home to a clean house. A call was put out for people to contribute to a gift for me and due to the amazing generosity of a large number of people I will now have Ethel for the next few months. I think this is the equivalent of getting a nappy service when you first get home from hospital with a newborn. I will thank everyone individually but if you happen to be reading this and you are one of my cleaning angels then from the bottom of my dirty bathroom I say thank you.
In addition N and I will also be well fed. I will miss the anticipation of lifting the lid of the hospital closh (no idea how to spell it but George used it on Masterchef all the time when he lifted the lid to reveal whatever was under it) to see what delights awaited me. I trust grey steamed brussel sprouts will not be part of any meal that is delivered.
The last day in hospital has been a quiet one. Dr Dave popped in again and is still really pleased with my progress. We discussed life, cancer and everything in between. I like his way of using analogies to explain things and his matter of fact way of telling it like it is. He also promised me that having my drains taken out tomorrow wont hurt.
Sure it won't hurt him, just hope it won't hurt me. Must confess to a little anticipation anxiety.
I have worried about N all day today. Just can't help myself. Ducatilad has been taking great care of him but I still feel that I should have been there. Has been tough - tougher than it needed to be. I will be glad to get home and just be able to be there for those incidental conversations that you have with an 18 year old son.
I was inspired today by the Olympics and managed to achieve a few personal bests. First was in the solo shower event. I was able to perform the tricky manoeuvre of showering without really looking too closely at your body while balancing the drainage bottles on the sink. And in the slow shuffle around the ward event I clocked two laps in under 5 mins. I actually had to do some extra laps as I struck a deal with the nurse. No blood thinning injection if I stretched my calves and got moving. Both better than gold.
As I prepare myself for my last sleep in my bed with a view, I have had to say goodbye to Ducatilad. He is catching a plane home tomorrow at 7am and I couldn't hide him in the single hospital bed all night.
I don't need to make public declarations about what we share but in my letter to Dr Dave you may remember that I stated that I had complete faith in the resilience of those who loved me to deal with whatever we had to. This past 5 days has simply confirmed that.
He has taken care not only of me but also everyone else who comes as part of my package. I feel treasured and know that to him I am still me in every single way.
That is a nice way to be.
P xx
Saturday 28 July 2012
Good omens
Day 4 is coming to an end.
Again feeling tired. My body is working very hard to heal. Each day brings its share of highs and lows, surprises and the odd absolutely bizarre moments.
I knew today would be ok when this morning I successfully put my nose stud back in my nose.
Now I know I have to learn to adjust without breasts but the thought that my nose may be naked again was a little too much to bear.
But with some lubricant, some antiseptic and sheer determination I managed to shove that diamond stud through my nose.
The other good omen was the shower and having my hair washed.
And finally, in the correct medical terminology - I had my bowels opened.
Never underestimate the power of a freshly washed body and a good crap.
(Just excuse me while I get jabbed, blood pressured and drugged. Back in a minute. Ok back. The tablets are ok, the blood thinning injections are getting a bit tiresome.)
I think yesterday was also hard as I can't stop being a parent, and N had to have his major art work for his HSC in and I couldn't be there for him, and then today he has had to muddle through and be on his own studying for the start of his exams on Monday.
I knew he was doing it a bit tough when he told me he missed me today. Ah mother guilt.
Well S flew back to Brisbane today. Hard for both of us. It has been so good having her here but I never want what is happening to me to prevent her from fulfilling her dreams. And that is not just what I am dealing with now.
I think she gets that I am just giving her some superb material to draw on for future performances.
She has promised me that I will be her date at the Oscars - may have to get some good fake boobs for that outing.
The day was filled with visits, messages, and so much care and culinary delights. As such I have managed to avoid relying on the hospital's chefs for my sustenance.
Breakfast was homemade muesli, morning tea was fresh sourdough bread with thickly spread buttter and jam and lunch was pasta from last nights run to the pizza joint down the road.
In fact for breakfast tomorrow from the hospital I have ordered a bowl, a glass of milk and a spoon. Just as well I am making use of all the other services the NSW Public Health System has to offer.
I was going to move to the private hospital but beds were short and things are really very good here. The care from the staff has been great.
However tonight there was a moment when I thought a private room would have been a blessing.
There is very little privacy and conversations can be heard quite easily.
The woman in the bed opposite me (who has some developmental delay) was giving a very detailed medical history to some medical students. There was lots of stuff being carefully recounted over a long time.
But I think the fact that she had a very promiscuous boyfriend and he gave her chlamydia would definitely fall into the bizarre and too much information category.
Really regret not putting my headphones in earlier.
Dr Dave popped in again today - looking more like a uni student than a skilled breast surgeon. He had a peek at his handiwork and is pleased. I have also gotten braver taking peeks and feeling my way around my new top half.
Not ready to do a full frontal view, but the fact that it looks neat and symmetrical is a start.
I trust that one day it will cross over and this will just be the new me. How long that takes I don't know.
Sleep is calling (or maybe that's the drugs). Either way, I am listening.
Good night,
P xx
Again feeling tired. My body is working very hard to heal. Each day brings its share of highs and lows, surprises and the odd absolutely bizarre moments.
I knew today would be ok when this morning I successfully put my nose stud back in my nose.
Now I know I have to learn to adjust without breasts but the thought that my nose may be naked again was a little too much to bear.
But with some lubricant, some antiseptic and sheer determination I managed to shove that diamond stud through my nose.
The other good omen was the shower and having my hair washed.
And finally, in the correct medical terminology - I had my bowels opened.
Never underestimate the power of a freshly washed body and a good crap.
(Just excuse me while I get jabbed, blood pressured and drugged. Back in a minute. Ok back. The tablets are ok, the blood thinning injections are getting a bit tiresome.)
I think yesterday was also hard as I can't stop being a parent, and N had to have his major art work for his HSC in and I couldn't be there for him, and then today he has had to muddle through and be on his own studying for the start of his exams on Monday.
I knew he was doing it a bit tough when he told me he missed me today. Ah mother guilt.
Well S flew back to Brisbane today. Hard for both of us. It has been so good having her here but I never want what is happening to me to prevent her from fulfilling her dreams. And that is not just what I am dealing with now.
I think she gets that I am just giving her some superb material to draw on for future performances.
She has promised me that I will be her date at the Oscars - may have to get some good fake boobs for that outing.
The day was filled with visits, messages, and so much care and culinary delights. As such I have managed to avoid relying on the hospital's chefs for my sustenance.
Breakfast was homemade muesli, morning tea was fresh sourdough bread with thickly spread buttter and jam and lunch was pasta from last nights run to the pizza joint down the road.
In fact for breakfast tomorrow from the hospital I have ordered a bowl, a glass of milk and a spoon. Just as well I am making use of all the other services the NSW Public Health System has to offer.
I was going to move to the private hospital but beds were short and things are really very good here. The care from the staff has been great.
However tonight there was a moment when I thought a private room would have been a blessing.
There is very little privacy and conversations can be heard quite easily.
The woman in the bed opposite me (who has some developmental delay) was giving a very detailed medical history to some medical students. There was lots of stuff being carefully recounted over a long time.
But I think the fact that she had a very promiscuous boyfriend and he gave her chlamydia would definitely fall into the bizarre and too much information category.
Really regret not putting my headphones in earlier.
Dr Dave popped in again today - looking more like a uni student than a skilled breast surgeon. He had a peek at his handiwork and is pleased. I have also gotten braver taking peeks and feeling my way around my new top half.
Not ready to do a full frontal view, but the fact that it looks neat and symmetrical is a start.
I trust that one day it will cross over and this will just be the new me. How long that takes I don't know.
Sleep is calling (or maybe that's the drugs). Either way, I am listening.
Good night,
P xx
Friday 27 July 2012
Guess that's why they call it the blues
What a birthday I had!
As those who know me well - conventional is not always my thing.
It was a big day for all sorts of reasons.
The biggest reason to celebrate is that I turned a year older. I think I spent most of the day in a bit of a post operation high and amazement at how good I felt considering I had both my breasts removed the day before.
Dr Dave came to see me in the morning and despite my reluctance told me it was time to take off the strapping. I did have a mental picture of what I thought it would look like. However I did not really want to spend time admiring his handiwork. I took a very brief peek and that was enough.
It was my birthday and I had other things to occupy myself.
These things included:
- Flowers from Ducatilad
- Organic carrot cupcake birthday cake from S
- Birthday card and flowers arrived from Mum
- Surprise bouquet from work
- Lovely cake from M and the cooking club delivered in person
- And my first wash (thank you to the lovely nurse who bravely washed my 'front bottom' for me.
By the end of my first day of being 49, I was cannula free (bye bye Pethadine drip), out of the very fashionable hospital gown and into my new pj's, and finished off with a celebratory dinner from the pizza place down the road.
The best present was a special visit, en-route home to Perth from my eldest brother who needed to come and check that his little sister was really ok.
As I lie here waiting for another delivery from said pizza place, it's been a bit of an emotional roller coaster of a day.
Bummed out, fed up, and feeling a bit flat (pun intended).
Processing the past 3 weeks is doing my head in. I'm not sure that I've done this cancer thing properly, again. It still feels very surreal, and even though I know that Cancer comes in many forms, it's hard to accept that a tiny Tumour has resulted in all of this.
I know I've set up a bit of an expectation that I'm funny and deal with most things with a level of humor, but as I reach the end of day 3, I think I've earned a break.
There are no words to express my gratitude for the love and support that has poured in from all places in many forms.
Fortunately, thanks to Dr Dave and my own vigilance, I now have many years to repay the favor.
Goodnight,
P x
As those who know me well - conventional is not always my thing.
It was a big day for all sorts of reasons.
The biggest reason to celebrate is that I turned a year older. I think I spent most of the day in a bit of a post operation high and amazement at how good I felt considering I had both my breasts removed the day before.
Dr Dave came to see me in the morning and despite my reluctance told me it was time to take off the strapping. I did have a mental picture of what I thought it would look like. However I did not really want to spend time admiring his handiwork. I took a very brief peek and that was enough.
It was my birthday and I had other things to occupy myself.
These things included:
- Flowers from Ducatilad
- Organic carrot cupcake birthday cake from S
- Birthday card and flowers arrived from Mum
- Surprise bouquet from work
- Lovely cake from M and the cooking club delivered in person
- And my first wash (thank you to the lovely nurse who bravely washed my 'front bottom' for me.
By the end of my first day of being 49, I was cannula free (bye bye Pethadine drip), out of the very fashionable hospital gown and into my new pj's, and finished off with a celebratory dinner from the pizza place down the road.
The best present was a special visit, en-route home to Perth from my eldest brother who needed to come and check that his little sister was really ok.
As I lie here waiting for another delivery from said pizza place, it's been a bit of an emotional roller coaster of a day.
Bummed out, fed up, and feeling a bit flat (pun intended).
Processing the past 3 weeks is doing my head in. I'm not sure that I've done this cancer thing properly, again. It still feels very surreal, and even though I know that Cancer comes in many forms, it's hard to accept that a tiny Tumour has resulted in all of this.
I know I've set up a bit of an expectation that I'm funny and deal with most things with a level of humor, but as I reach the end of day 3, I think I've earned a break.
There are no words to express my gratitude for the love and support that has poured in from all places in many forms.
Fortunately, thanks to Dr Dave and my own vigilance, I now have many years to repay the favor.
Goodnight,
P x
Wednesday 25 July 2012
Greetings from the other side
This morning I got up, I packed my suitcase, put on my best relaxation gear and left the house with my partner Ducatilad and my daughter S. This may sound like I was on my way to a lovely holiday but unfortunately there isn't a Club Med ward at the hospital.
Here I am post-op. No boobs, but my brain still works.
This post comes to you from my "F*ck it, I've got Cancer present" - my brand new shiny iPad.
Don't be too impressed, my loyal personal assistant, my daughter S is sitting bedside as I somewhat dictate amidst the pethadine.
The half eaten cous cous with grey steamed green beans and soggy carrots sits on the table as I listen to the ambient sounds of a public hospital ward. To my left, the leaking colostomy bag, and directly across is the relaxing sound of post-op dry wretching as I drift in and out.*
I feel really fortunate. At least my surgical wounds don't make noises.
Remarkably, I feel far less battered than I had expected, but I would venture to guess that my new best friend the pethadine drip has something to do with that.
The overwhelming love, support and well wishing smses have been greatly appreciated and it's been such a comfort knowing how many people are in my corner.
I have just returned from my first trip to the bathroom. The disposable pantaloons really got me feeling the vacation spirit - my underwear seemed to come off very easily.
My pre-op mental training of preparing for the worst has paid off, as I really feel in far better shape than I had expected. Ducatilad spoke to Dr Dave and delivered the very good news that the Tumour was contained in the breast. Unfortunately, the wait for the pathology which will determine any future treatment is expected to be 1-2 weeks but it feels good to know that I've dodged a bullet again.
Dr Dave also says he is very happy with the cosmetic result, although the look I now have may never score me a role on the Shire.
I'm getting tired and the Masterchef finale is coming on soon so I will wrap this up for now.
I haven't ventured to look down at the great unknown and know that I will need to prepare myself for what will no doubt be an emotional unveiling.
But for now, I'm going to settle down with a Twix bar, some reality television, and the anticipation of a slightly unconventional birthday celebration as I turn 49.
P xx
* I should note that the nursing care in the public system has been fantastic.
Here I am post-op. No boobs, but my brain still works.
This post comes to you from my "F*ck it, I've got Cancer present" - my brand new shiny iPad.
Don't be too impressed, my loyal personal assistant, my daughter S is sitting bedside as I somewhat dictate amidst the pethadine.
The half eaten cous cous with grey steamed green beans and soggy carrots sits on the table as I listen to the ambient sounds of a public hospital ward. To my left, the leaking colostomy bag, and directly across is the relaxing sound of post-op dry wretching as I drift in and out.*
I feel really fortunate. At least my surgical wounds don't make noises.
Remarkably, I feel far less battered than I had expected, but I would venture to guess that my new best friend the pethadine drip has something to do with that.
The overwhelming love, support and well wishing smses have been greatly appreciated and it's been such a comfort knowing how many people are in my corner.
I have just returned from my first trip to the bathroom. The disposable pantaloons really got me feeling the vacation spirit - my underwear seemed to come off very easily.
My pre-op mental training of preparing for the worst has paid off, as I really feel in far better shape than I had expected. Ducatilad spoke to Dr Dave and delivered the very good news that the Tumour was contained in the breast. Unfortunately, the wait for the pathology which will determine any future treatment is expected to be 1-2 weeks but it feels good to know that I've dodged a bullet again.
Dr Dave also says he is very happy with the cosmetic result, although the look I now have may never score me a role on the Shire.
I'm getting tired and the Masterchef finale is coming on soon so I will wrap this up for now.
I haven't ventured to look down at the great unknown and know that I will need to prepare myself for what will no doubt be an emotional unveiling.
But for now, I'm going to settle down with a Twix bar, some reality television, and the anticipation of a slightly unconventional birthday celebration as I turn 49.
P xx
* I should note that the nursing care in the public system has been fantastic.
Tuesday 24 July 2012
Twas the day before....
I am sitting at my dining room table with Masterchef on in the background, my son on the couch and my partner ( who arrived this afternoon and I have decided to give the pseudonym of Ducatilad) sitting watching as well.
The picture of domesticity - I am existing in a parallel universe - tomorrow I am going in for a double mastectomy and my body will never be the same again. So hard to wrap my head around this.
I am exhausted. I had a very big day today.
Today was the sentinel node procedure where they inject dye to locate the sentinel nodes prior to surgery. This enables the surgeon to test that node for any signs of cancer and if there is no evidence then they can leave the rest of the nodes. There is a much more medical explanation I am sure but I don't have the energy ( or really the capacity) to go into much more detail. Suffice to say this technology was not around 15 years ago, but the procedure reduces the long term issues and makes the surgery less invasive. OK how much less can a double mastectomy really be you ask.
I had to be at the nuclear medicine clinic at the Hospital at 11. My gorgeous friend M picked me up
at 9:30 (she had even had a blow dry to look fantastic for the procedure) and we went and had breakfast before.
Then we headed over to the Clinic. Now I will confess - I had been extremely stressed and anxious about this whole thing but heading over I was much calmer than I thought.
The Dr called me in to explain what they would do. Firstly they put several injections in with dye; in the breast with the tumour they inject straight into it, and on the other breast they inject under the nipple.
After that she then informed me that I would have to massage my breasts for about 10 mins to move the dye through the pathways to locate the nodes and then they take images of the nodes and mark them on my breasts so they can locate them in surgery.
Guess which bit hurt the most??
Without going into too much detail the injections into the tumour were fine but the ones under the nipple were awful. The Dr said that I was allowed to swear in any language. I chose English and my word for the day was f*ck. No surprises there. M did offer French but merde just doesn't have the same ring to it.
And I did cry. From the pain, from the invasion of my body and for the sheer bloody unfairness of it all. M cried with me and stroked my hand and was just there for me.
The Dr was very kind and caring - well of course she was, she was a mother. Who needed to take calls from her 11 year old son who was home on his own sick. Ah mother guilt.
I then had to start the 10 min massage of the breasts. At this point M had to leave and N my next support person arrived. So there I was massaging my breasts. I tried not to think about the fact that after tomorrow I would not have them.( and that I would rather have Ducatilad do this for me). N did offer to take over as I began to tire and did quite good a good job. Now that is what I call a good friend.
Finally they are well massaged and ready to take the images. The most uncomfortable part of the imaging is having to hold your arms at 90 degrees for long stretches. They managed to locate the sentinel node in my right (non cancer breast) but could not do so on the left. This was predicted due to the previous surgery and radiotherapy. The surgeon will attempt to do it during the surgery and if not then I think they will take the rest of the nodes.
N did an amazing job of talking me through the imaging and letting me know how much time was left.
They did say that it was safe for her to be in the room - really hope that is true.
Finally at 3 we were free to go. With plasters on each breast and purple x's on my right breast, having been supported by members of my sisterhood.
I arrived home completely finished waiting for Ducatilad to arrive from the airport.
He walked through the door about 15 mins later ( I did manage to get a quick vaccuum of the floor in before) - he enveloped me and I felt safe.
It is now 11:56 the night before my operation and I fear a frenetic urge coming on. My way of dealing with stress. So I am again pounding the keyboard late at night trying to get this finished
We picked S, my daughter up, from the airport and brought her home. I am glad she is here. There have been some tears, lots of hugs and her final farewell to my breasts, which included a a rather reverant touching of them and an acknowledgement of the role they played in giving her life.
Through of all this N, the HSC boy, has been in his room working on his major Visual Arts work that is due in on Friday. He deals with it in his own way - like asking me if I get to keep the tumour after, and what would happen if you ate it. As I kissed him goodnight he declared that he was quite happy to say goodbye to my breasts from afar. (probably the appropriate thing to do)
My bag is packed - underpants, singlets, button through pj's - no bras.
I feel detached, still in that parallel universe. I have no idea how I am going to feel when I wake up and process what has happened.
I feel that this posting really needs some sort of profound ending but the words seem to elude me.
I truly feel so loved and treasured, and perhaps that is enough to protect me and give me the strength to just get on with it.
Breasts or no breasts - I am and always will be.......
Pxx
Sunday 22 July 2012
Monument to my breasts
I had a very special day today- feel like it was the beginning of the process of saying goodbye to my boobs.
I made a plaster cast of my chest.
Well I had several people do it for me, as I sat still on a stool in my kitchen sipping champagne with 3 of my very closest girlfriends and my daughter on Skype.
An incredibly empowering experience.
As usual there is a bit of a story to how this came about.
About 4 weeks ago I received an email from Kerrie,who runs an amazing organisation called the groundswell project, inviting me to one of her Busting Cancer workshops. The invite was both a professional and personal invite.
I first met Kerrie about 4 years ago when I was working at CanTeen - the Australian organisation for young people living with cancer (not the school canteen) I was writing the third in a series of books for young people dealing with cancer, this one was for bereaved young people.
The first one I wrote in the series was for young people who have a parent diagnosed with cancer*. Yes it is all very twilight zone, too interconnected, and all that weird shit.
Anyway Kerrie was working for an organisation that supported families to care for people who wanted to die at home. No it isn't morbid dealing in this area - it is just part of life - and I chatted with her about issues that impacted on young people
Fast forward to about May this year and Kerrie and I connected again. She had started the groundswell project and I was working in the area of young adults and survivorship. She had run a number of Busting Cancer workshops where women came together to make plaster casts of their bodies, at various stages of their cancer experiences. We discussed the possibility of targeting young adult cancer survivors.
I was fascinated by the project.
I had always regretted that I didn't do anything to have a record of what my breast looked look liked before my first breast surgery. OK I admit I was in denial about that whole thing.
Being a bit slack on the email reply, and the fact that it was on the 29th July and SL (Partner. Remember he was mentioned in a previous blog and there will be more written about him as we continue on this little trip and I think he will need to get a better code name) was going to be here, I hadn't made up my mind if I would go.
Well circumstances now made it not possible for me to go on the 29th.
But I decided that this time I really wanted to do something before I went in for surgery.
So I emailed Kerrie with the news that the 29th wasn't really going work out for me but could she tell me what I needed to get as I had a crafty friend who could do it and I was thinking of inviting my close girlfriends over to drink champagne and make a cast.
She sent back the reply that she would be honoured to come out and do it for me.
So that is how I came to be sitting, sipping champagne with my friends and daughter as my chest was covered in plaster.
It is a an unusual feeling. First you cover yourself in Vaseline - wow what a beautiful shine that gives - and then the strips of plaster are layered onto your skin. Just like if you are having a cast for a broken limb. It feels a bit cold.
Now each of my girlfriends played a role. M was the art director and the champagne giver, D got in and got dirty actually helping Kerrie do the plastering, all the while talking in arty speak and N was in charge of holding the laptop so my daughter could be part of it on Skye
We even got my nearly 80 year old Mum on Skype in Perth so she could also be a part of it.
Once it is all layered on - and the temptation to do a bit of cosmetic plastering is avoided - the cast slips off and voila you have a plaster cast of your chest.
The whole thing took about 40 minutes.
The cast now has to dry and once that happens I will decide how, or if, I want to decorate it.
It really was a very special experience, and one I would recommend to women and men who are faced with the prospect of having any body changing surgery. ( although not sure that all body parts are suitable for the plaster cast treatment)
I really want to thank Kerrie for making this happen and to my 3 gorgeous girlfriends for being part of it.
Please check out the groundswell project and all the amazing work they do
I now have a permanent monument to my two saggy boobs.
Actually they look quite good if I say so myself.
* If you are reading this and you are living with cancer and have children between the ages of 12-24 check out the
Now What...? series of books for young people. ( and I will put in a disclaimer here that I did write them)
I made a plaster cast of my chest.
Well I had several people do it for me, as I sat still on a stool in my kitchen sipping champagne with 3 of my very closest girlfriends and my daughter on Skype.
An incredibly empowering experience.
As usual there is a bit of a story to how this came about.
About 4 weeks ago I received an email from Kerrie,who runs an amazing organisation called the groundswell project, inviting me to one of her Busting Cancer workshops. The invite was both a professional and personal invite.
I first met Kerrie about 4 years ago when I was working at CanTeen - the Australian organisation for young people living with cancer (not the school canteen) I was writing the third in a series of books for young people dealing with cancer, this one was for bereaved young people.
The first one I wrote in the series was for young people who have a parent diagnosed with cancer*. Yes it is all very twilight zone, too interconnected, and all that weird shit.
Anyway Kerrie was working for an organisation that supported families to care for people who wanted to die at home. No it isn't morbid dealing in this area - it is just part of life - and I chatted with her about issues that impacted on young people
Fast forward to about May this year and Kerrie and I connected again. She had started the groundswell project and I was working in the area of young adults and survivorship. She had run a number of Busting Cancer workshops where women came together to make plaster casts of their bodies, at various stages of their cancer experiences. We discussed the possibility of targeting young adult cancer survivors.
I was fascinated by the project.
I had always regretted that I didn't do anything to have a record of what my breast looked look liked before my first breast surgery. OK I admit I was in denial about that whole thing.
Being a bit slack on the email reply, and the fact that it was on the 29th July and SL (Partner. Remember he was mentioned in a previous blog and there will be more written about him as we continue on this little trip and I think he will need to get a better code name) was going to be here, I hadn't made up my mind if I would go.
Well circumstances now made it not possible for me to go on the 29th.
But I decided that this time I really wanted to do something before I went in for surgery.
So I emailed Kerrie with the news that the 29th wasn't really going work out for me but could she tell me what I needed to get as I had a crafty friend who could do it and I was thinking of inviting my close girlfriends over to drink champagne and make a cast.
She sent back the reply that she would be honoured to come out and do it for me.
So that is how I came to be sitting, sipping champagne with my friends and daughter as my chest was covered in plaster.
It is a an unusual feeling. First you cover yourself in Vaseline - wow what a beautiful shine that gives - and then the strips of plaster are layered onto your skin. Just like if you are having a cast for a broken limb. It feels a bit cold.
Now each of my girlfriends played a role. M was the art director and the champagne giver, D got in and got dirty actually helping Kerrie do the plastering, all the while talking in arty speak and N was in charge of holding the laptop so my daughter could be part of it on Skye
We even got my nearly 80 year old Mum on Skype in Perth so she could also be a part of it.
Once it is all layered on - and the temptation to do a bit of cosmetic plastering is avoided - the cast slips off and voila you have a plaster cast of your chest.
The whole thing took about 40 minutes.
The cast now has to dry and once that happens I will decide how, or if, I want to decorate it.
It really was a very special experience, and one I would recommend to women and men who are faced with the prospect of having any body changing surgery. ( although not sure that all body parts are suitable for the plaster cast treatment)
I really want to thank Kerrie for making this happen and to my 3 gorgeous girlfriends for being part of it.
Please check out the groundswell project and all the amazing work they do
I now have a permanent monument to my two saggy boobs.
Actually they look quite good if I say so myself.
* If you are reading this and you are living with cancer and have children between the ages of 12-24 check out the
Now What...? series of books for young people. ( and I will put in a disclaimer here that I did write them)
Friday 20 July 2012
Admissions - mine and other peoples.
Today I had my pre-admission appointment at the Hospital. I was not sure what I was going to be admitting but as my best friend M said " just say OK I admit I have cancer and I am having a double mastectomy. Can I go home now"
The appointment was for 9 am and I naively thought I would just have to fill out a few forms and that would be it. If only it was that simple. This is the Public Health system.
12:30 I finally got to walk out.
First I met Susan. My initial thought when I met her was that she was an administration assistant employed under one of those "special" employment schemes. (OK I warned you at the beginning that political correctness would not always be present). She took my forms and told me to take a seat in the waiting room.
After about 10 mins she called me in and then introduced herself as the nurse who would do my pre-admission. I was a little shocked. She was very friendly and honestly I thought a bit "simple."
When she asked me what I did and I told her that I worked for a major cancer charity she then seemed to think that this gave her permission to share her entire life story. (confirming my suspicions)
Susan I did not really need to know that your dad died from cancer two years ago and that he was a retired school principle who still acted as though he was one and that you had 4 siblings and that you had always lived at home and that you nursed him because he didn't want to be in hospital and that you came to work one day in tears and everyone thought that he had died because they all knew about what was happening but you were just upset and that he refused to accept that he was dying and kept telling your mum that he was going to get up and walk and that she had to remind him that he was in fact bedridden and that he was 88 when he was diagnosed but you really think he knew he had cancer for a while but chose to ignore it and you think he finally saw you as a nurse and allowed you to nurse him.
Thank you for sharing that but here's the thing I think my pre- admission interview was actually supposed to be about me and my story.
Once I had finished with that little interview - where she did manage to weigh me, take my blood pressure and fill out some forms, in between her story telling, I then went back into the waiting room to wait to see the pharmacist, the anaesthetist, the surgical team and the financial person.
Fortunately all the rest of the staff didn't have the same need to share their life stories with me.
Next meeting was with the pharmacist who asked me about what drugs I was taking. I am currently taking a collection of complementary medications to manage my menopause and because I now have no memory I struggled to tell her exactly what was in all of them. She didn't seemed concerned.
Finished with her back out to the waiting room.
Susan then came scurrying out to tell me that she was trying to track down the anaesthetist and the other Dr but that they were held up. ( I felt bad about my initial assessment of her because she really was very helpful)
Next is the anaesthetist. Into the room again, lots more questions about my health, previous anaesthetic experiences, again what medications I was taking. This time I did manage to remember that one of the tablets had St Johns Wort in it. Just as well I did because that is apparently on the pre-operation prohibited list and I cant take any for 5 days prior to surgery. So no more of that from today.
Out from there and then Susan hands me a form for an ECG. So off I go up the stairs, along the corridor to find Christine who sticks dots on my chest and hooks me up to the machine that spits out pictures of my heart beats and tells me my heart looks fine.
Back down the corridor, down the escalator, back to the waiting room. Lucky Channel 10's "The Circle" is still on and I haven't missed the amazing wrinkle cream segment.
Finally the surgical team call me in. Again questions. What procedure am I having, any other major illness. Was a little surprised that they were surprised that I had had cancer before. Thought that one may have been noted on my file.
All the other usual questions - smoking - no; drinking- dry for past 5 weeks ( killing me), the medications question, family history, pregnancy and breastfeeding history.
I did eventually get to ask some of my own questions. Will this hurt? How many of these have you done before? What drugs will I get to have afterwards?
Ok I did actually ask some serious questions about the length of the procedure, recovery time, further treatment decisions and when I will know about these decisions.
I walked out feeling quite confident that I would be in good hands.
Back out to the waiting room and then I am called for the last interview with the lovely Denise. She is in charge of the financial paper work.
Again the question of what do I do came up. This time the result was not a life story but in fact the waiving of my $500 Health Fund hospital excess. Cant be completely sure that was the reason but think it may have had something to do with it.What a win.
I have chosen to be admitted to a Public Hospital as a privately insured patient. Denise informed that I would have no out of pocket expenses, except for my surgeons fee. I know that there are lots of things wrong with the system but for me this seems to be a pretty good deal. I am very grateful to Denise and told her so.
So after 3 and half hours of admitting lots of things, waiting quite a bit, signing lots of forms, I am sent off with a bottle of antiseptic wash to use on the day of my operation and a warm holding of my hand by Susan as she wishes me all the best for what I am about to embark on.
Next time Susan maybe just leave out the Dad story.
Px
The appointment was for 9 am and I naively thought I would just have to fill out a few forms and that would be it. If only it was that simple. This is the Public Health system.
12:30 I finally got to walk out.
First I met Susan. My initial thought when I met her was that she was an administration assistant employed under one of those "special" employment schemes. (OK I warned you at the beginning that political correctness would not always be present). She took my forms and told me to take a seat in the waiting room.
After about 10 mins she called me in and then introduced herself as the nurse who would do my pre-admission. I was a little shocked. She was very friendly and honestly I thought a bit "simple."
When she asked me what I did and I told her that I worked for a major cancer charity she then seemed to think that this gave her permission to share her entire life story. (confirming my suspicions)
Susan I did not really need to know that your dad died from cancer two years ago and that he was a retired school principle who still acted as though he was one and that you had 4 siblings and that you had always lived at home and that you nursed him because he didn't want to be in hospital and that you came to work one day in tears and everyone thought that he had died because they all knew about what was happening but you were just upset and that he refused to accept that he was dying and kept telling your mum that he was going to get up and walk and that she had to remind him that he was in fact bedridden and that he was 88 when he was diagnosed but you really think he knew he had cancer for a while but chose to ignore it and you think he finally saw you as a nurse and allowed you to nurse him.
Thank you for sharing that but here's the thing I think my pre- admission interview was actually supposed to be about me and my story.
Once I had finished with that little interview - where she did manage to weigh me, take my blood pressure and fill out some forms, in between her story telling, I then went back into the waiting room to wait to see the pharmacist, the anaesthetist, the surgical team and the financial person.
Fortunately all the rest of the staff didn't have the same need to share their life stories with me.
Next meeting was with the pharmacist who asked me about what drugs I was taking. I am currently taking a collection of complementary medications to manage my menopause and because I now have no memory I struggled to tell her exactly what was in all of them. She didn't seemed concerned.
Finished with her back out to the waiting room.
Susan then came scurrying out to tell me that she was trying to track down the anaesthetist and the other Dr but that they were held up. ( I felt bad about my initial assessment of her because she really was very helpful)
Next is the anaesthetist. Into the room again, lots more questions about my health, previous anaesthetic experiences, again what medications I was taking. This time I did manage to remember that one of the tablets had St Johns Wort in it. Just as well I did because that is apparently on the pre-operation prohibited list and I cant take any for 5 days prior to surgery. So no more of that from today.
Out from there and then Susan hands me a form for an ECG. So off I go up the stairs, along the corridor to find Christine who sticks dots on my chest and hooks me up to the machine that spits out pictures of my heart beats and tells me my heart looks fine.
Back down the corridor, down the escalator, back to the waiting room. Lucky Channel 10's "The Circle" is still on and I haven't missed the amazing wrinkle cream segment.
Finally the surgical team call me in. Again questions. What procedure am I having, any other major illness. Was a little surprised that they were surprised that I had had cancer before. Thought that one may have been noted on my file.
All the other usual questions - smoking - no; drinking- dry for past 5 weeks ( killing me), the medications question, family history, pregnancy and breastfeeding history.
I did eventually get to ask some of my own questions. Will this hurt? How many of these have you done before? What drugs will I get to have afterwards?
Ok I did actually ask some serious questions about the length of the procedure, recovery time, further treatment decisions and when I will know about these decisions.
I walked out feeling quite confident that I would be in good hands.
Back out to the waiting room and then I am called for the last interview with the lovely Denise. She is in charge of the financial paper work.
Again the question of what do I do came up. This time the result was not a life story but in fact the waiving of my $500 Health Fund hospital excess. Cant be completely sure that was the reason but think it may have had something to do with it.What a win.
I have chosen to be admitted to a Public Hospital as a privately insured patient. Denise informed that I would have no out of pocket expenses, except for my surgeons fee. I know that there are lots of things wrong with the system but for me this seems to be a pretty good deal. I am very grateful to Denise and told her so.
So after 3 and half hours of admitting lots of things, waiting quite a bit, signing lots of forms, I am sent off with a bottle of antiseptic wash to use on the day of my operation and a warm holding of my hand by Susan as she wishes me all the best for what I am about to embark on.
Next time Susan maybe just leave out the Dad story.
Px
Wednesday 18 July 2012
Letter to my Doctor
Well tomorrow is D day for my decision regarding a single or a double mastectomy.
It has been a very exhausting week with my brain rarely still as it tried to process all the factors influencing my decision.
I have done a lot of talking to a lot of people about the decision. I have much gratitude to those people who have listened, counselled, commented and cared.
I really made up my mind the moment I was told that I had breast cancer again. One of my girlfriends, who is a very straight talker asked me what my initial reaction was when I found out ( after f*ck, f*ck f*ck) and it was; I want them both off.
The past week has been the consolidation of that. A bit like going shopping for a new dress - you really like the first one you try on but you have to spend the next 2 hours trying on a whole lot of others just to convince yourself that you really like it (ok you can always change your mind with a dress - not so easy with a double mastectomy)
I have also come to the realisation that even though I know that this is the right decision for me, it doesn't make it any less scary and I really have no idea how I will react when I look in the mirror for the first time and see my flat chest.
But I have absolute faith in my own resilience to deal with whatever I have to, as well as those closest to me.
My surgeon told me that he would agree to doing a double mastectomy, but that I had to write him a letter with the reasons why I wanted it done. He said that it was not for any legal reason but that it would help me clarify in my own mind why I was having it done.
Here is the letter I wrote him
It has been a very exhausting week with my brain rarely still as it tried to process all the factors influencing my decision.
I have done a lot of talking to a lot of people about the decision. I have much gratitude to those people who have listened, counselled, commented and cared.
I really made up my mind the moment I was told that I had breast cancer again. One of my girlfriends, who is a very straight talker asked me what my initial reaction was when I found out ( after f*ck, f*ck f*ck) and it was; I want them both off.
The past week has been the consolidation of that. A bit like going shopping for a new dress - you really like the first one you try on but you have to spend the next 2 hours trying on a whole lot of others just to convince yourself that you really like it (ok you can always change your mind with a dress - not so easy with a double mastectomy)
I have also come to the realisation that even though I know that this is the right decision for me, it doesn't make it any less scary and I really have no idea how I will react when I look in the mirror for the first time and see my flat chest.
But I have absolute faith in my own resilience to deal with whatever I have to, as well as those closest to me.
My surgeon told me that he would agree to doing a double mastectomy, but that I had to write him a letter with the reasons why I wanted it done. He said that it was not for any legal reason but that it would help me clarify in my own mind why I was having it done.
Here is the letter I wrote him
Dear Dr Dave
When I first came
to see you almost two weeks ago to talk about my diagnosis you told me that
given the fact that this was a second diagnosis that I would have to have a
mastectomy. I told you that I wanted both breasts removed.
You told me it was
my anxiety talking and that I had to make decisions based on fact and
rationality.
On my second visit –
when you would have to agree my anxiety levels had dropped – we again talked
about a double mastectomy. You counselled me that it was very big decision and
that once done there was no going back. It wasn’t like cutting long hair – my breasts wouldn’t
grow back (yes I could get some new ones but they wouldn’t be the original
pair)
I signed the
consent form for a single mastectomy, with the proviso that you would agree to
do both. I had a week to decide and I had to write you a letter
spelling out my reasons.
Well here they are.
The reasons I am
choosing a double mastectomy are
- I don’t ever want to be in this position again, having to make these decisions
- I have talked to a number of people who have had both single and doubles, and had the chance to look at the results of both and I honestly believe it is the right decision for me
- Balance and symmetry are important and I feel that only having one breast will always, to me, feel unbalanced.
- I honestly believe that if I only have a single, after a short time I will want to have the other removed, thus precipitating another round of decision-making and a second operation.
- My breasts do not define me
- I have no doubt that I have the resilience to deal with this decision – no matter how shocked I may be when I first look at my flat chest
- I want this done and finished and over so I can get on with all the living I have to do.
Remember, this is
my second diagnosis and as you said there was a 90% chance it wouldn’t come
back and it did.
Statistics and me
don’t have a very good record.
So as you instructed
me to say:
"Dave, lets get this show on the road."
Regards
P x
Tuesday 17 July 2012
Bra Epiphany
Well I went back to work today. Good to get some normality
in my very messed up world.
I work for a large cancer charity – the irony doesn’t escape
me. I am very fortunate to have an
incredibly supportive team and manager. Sure makes it easier.
processing the decision that I need to make by
Thursday.
Guess I have to accept that no matter what decision I make
it is not going to change the fact that
I have been diagnosed with breast cancer a second time and at the very
least next Wednesday I have to
have a mastectomy
But there have been a few signs that I am heading in the
right direction.
On Sunday I went to my local Westfield shopping centre . It is very much like going to
the casino, no windows and no clocks anywhere and you can just get lost for
hours.
I thought I would catch the last of the sales and make some
purchases for my hospital and post surgery “glory box”. I need some footwear
that is easy to get on and off that can pass as going out slippers, I also need
some button through tops ( so I don’t have to lift my arms up to get them on
and off) and I could do with a new
pair of trackie pants.
How then did I end up in the lingerie department of Myer?
You may think that I was torturing myself, but in actual fact it provided me with a moment of clarity.
You may think that I was torturing myself, but in actual fact it provided me with a moment of clarity.
As I stood and looked around at all the bras, the pretty,
the sexy, the functional, not once did I feel sad about the fact that I may
never be able to wear any of them again. Even the bright pink push up one that
the young model looking twenty- something in the queue in front of me was buying .
In fact I felt quite glad. I actually hate bras and have
never found any, except the very functional ones, comfortable.
After my first breast surgery, while I was left with most of
my breast, there was a still a bit missing at the side. Getting bras to fit
both has always been a challenge.
I have tried the lacy, the frilly, the balconnette, the moulded, the push up, the
expensive and cheap. And nothing really seems to feel right.
The best feeling for me is taking my bra off at the end of the day.
The best feeling for me is taking my bra off at the end of the day.
What I really like is a soft singlet or camisole and I will
be able to fill my underwear drawer with those.
Now I know that not liking bras is different than
having no breasts to put in one.
However if I
only have the single mastectomy then I sense that getting bras that fit is
going to be whole lot more challenging and going braless not an option.
The freedom of being flat chested has some appeal.
P xx
P xx
Saturday 14 July 2012
The Story So Far
I have been really slack in getting this blog up and running
and now I feel overwhelmed cos I have so much to catch up on that I am always
going to feel that I am behind on writing where I am up to
And I have this shocking perfectionist streak that wont let
me post anything that I think is half arsed, not completely brilliant, witty,
intellectually superior and emotionally reflective.
And now it just feels like there is one more thing hanging
over my head
So at 4 am this morning I have decided – f*ck it. If it doesn’t all fit nicely into a chronological
order and I haven’t explained each bit of how I got to be sitting in bed awake
at now 4:30 then so be it. That’s what links are for and you can read the other
ramblings at your leisure.
The story in a nutshell so far.
I have breast cancer, agan, in the same breast
I found the new lump and I have had a;
o Mammogram
o Ultrasound
o Biopsy
I don’t know if it is a new primary or a recurrence (oncologist
says it doesn’t make much difference)
I am celebrating as I only have cancer in my breast (nowhere else in my body) and I know this because I
have had;
o A
bone scan
o A
CT Scan
o Blood
tests
I have to have a mastectomy and I know this because
o I
have seen the oncologist twice already
o I
have had radiotherapy already on this boob (and you can’t have it twice)
o This
is a bad boob and it has to go
I have until this Thursday to decide whether I am having one or both off.
A double mastectomy is not a medical need but a psychological and a symmetrical one.
( for me)
( for me)
I have been lucky enough to have had two friends willing to take off their tops for me so I can have a look at their breast jobs:
o One single mastectomy and a prosthesis ( there is no doubt a whole blog waiting to be written about them)
o One double, no re-construction
It was helpful to have a look, but at the end of the day it’s a bit like looking through hair magazines for a hairstyle and choosing one.
You still won't really know what it will look like on you until the cut is done.
I am pretty certain I don’t want a reconstruction.
So if I have the double mastectomy I may need to change the name of this blog to
No saggy boobs
( but then again I may just leave it)
I am booked into
have surgery on Wednesday 25th July which means I will celebrate my 49th
birthday( on the 26th July) on drugs.
I have a different oncologist looking after me this time, Dr S. ( i like him)
Dr C is away and wont be back for another week, Dr S was trained by him so I figure he is pretty good at what he does, and I don't want to wait.
I have a different oncologist looking after me this time, Dr S. ( i like him)
Dr C is away and wont be back for another week, Dr S was trained by him so I figure he is pretty good at what he does, and I don't want to wait.
I am not all that happy ( ok that is a very big
understatement) at having to go through this all again 15 years after the first
diagnosis.
It really has messed things up for a lot of people;
My daughter S, who was supposed to be back up in Brisbane getting ready to start her second semester of her acting
degree
My son N , who is about to start his HSC Trials
My partner SL who now has to travel back and forward from
interstate to be my carer ( as
opposed to doing that just for fun)
My family who also live interstate ( on the other side of
the country) who are all really worried and feel like they cant do anything
My friends who are all quite shocked and who will have to
cook and care for me all over again
My work colleagues who will have to pick up my slack
And of course me.
So there it is – a very stripped down update on my breast cancer
status.
The birds are singing which means it must be close to the
sun coming up.
My head feels so much clearer.
So I will post this now, with the promise to get some sleep
and to write again soon.
P x
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