Wednesday,
19 September 2012
Talking
of responsibility, I nearly ground to a halt with the whole bloggy thing
yesterday. I had a bad day and felt a huge weight. I didn't want to worry
anybody, didn't want any pity, couldn't stand the thought of endless facebook
massages asking if I was alright. I just wanted to be left alone. Already I'm
suffering the negatives of celebrity!
I spoke to amazing sister last night on the phone and she reminded me that I have started with honesty so that's how I have to carry on. Even on the bad days. So if you're going to carry on reading, you have to promise not to inundate me if I'm feeling low. I'm not a depressive person and I will ask for help if I need it. I know this is hard for friends and family and those who love me but it's just the way it's going to be. I'd also really like you to become a follower of the blog because I might stop shouting on facebook when I post and you can comment on here to your heart's content!
The bad day started with a rushed morning. The girls didn't want to get up - we are all familiar with the Tuesday morning blues after a fantastic weekend, well here it was in child form. Husband became slightly ratty and that was all it took. I love to be happy and will do all I can to stay that way but in my current state it's unpredictable how little it takes to piss me off. The kids got to school on time down to Husbands new found morning skills and I carried on sulking. I sulked all the way to Paddock Wood and all the way to London Bridge on the train. Husband had the audacity to accuse me of sulking as we walked past The Shard and I told him to go away, leave me alone and please not come to hospital (I may have been slightly less polite!). I stomped off to Guys taking mild comfort in the knowledge that he was following from a safe distance.
We reunited in the waiting room. My appointment was with a specialist Breast Cancer Nurse, they are completely amazing people. They seem to run the whole Breast Cancer centre at Guys only referring occasionally to the Consultants when necessary. My left breast (the new one) had become slightly swollen. My bra was digging in a bit and the whole area was a little bit less comfortable. The nurse examined me with the help of a surgical nurse and they decided I had a little bit of seroma. This is when the fluid around the implant becomes swollen. They needed the opinion of the Consultant who agreed but didn't want to draw the fluid off as any introduction of needles adds a risk of infection. I have been advised to put up with the discomfort and return on Friday.
I am now even more annoyed about this as I've had to cancel my famous newsreader friends lunch on Friday which I was very much looking forward to and my breast is very uncomfortable. It feels like I'm wearing sandpaper inside my bra.
The bad day ended on a good note. The sun came out, I had a sleep in the garden. The children returned from karate class and had absolutely loved it. Husband and I were back on track and Mother-in-law popped by for a spot of supper. I had a relatively early night and slept quite well.
This morning has taken all the strength and resolve and Husband's Love to get me through. I woke up to the realisation that last Fridays diagnosis of Cancer in my lymph glands and a tumour over 5cm puts me in stage 3 not 2. I scrabbled around for my leaflet on staging and grading and indeed I have stage 3A breast cancer. This, according to my Macmillan 'Understanding Breast Cancer' book takes me from Early breast cancer - stages 1 & 2 to Locally-advanced Breast Cancer - stage 3. There are 4 stages of Breast Cancer and 3 Grades. I have already been told I have Grade 3.
With panic rising I logged onto Cancer Research's wonderful website to look at survival rates. I had already come to terms with around an 80% survival rate up to 5 years for Grade 2A. This morning's rushed research has shown a 40-50% survival rate for my new found stage. I cannot describe the feeling of despair that washes through my stomach when I even begin to contemplate my own mortality but with figures like these I'm beginning to think that it might be time for me to face up to it.
I'm crying as I type this and my wonderful Husband is reminding me that it doesn't change what we have to do. I have age, relative fitness, clean lungs, a great hospital, good diet and most importantly LOVE and support on my side.
I spoke to amazing sister last night on the phone and she reminded me that I have started with honesty so that's how I have to carry on. Even on the bad days. So if you're going to carry on reading, you have to promise not to inundate me if I'm feeling low. I'm not a depressive person and I will ask for help if I need it. I know this is hard for friends and family and those who love me but it's just the way it's going to be. I'd also really like you to become a follower of the blog because I might stop shouting on facebook when I post and you can comment on here to your heart's content!
The bad day started with a rushed morning. The girls didn't want to get up - we are all familiar with the Tuesday morning blues after a fantastic weekend, well here it was in child form. Husband became slightly ratty and that was all it took. I love to be happy and will do all I can to stay that way but in my current state it's unpredictable how little it takes to piss me off. The kids got to school on time down to Husbands new found morning skills and I carried on sulking. I sulked all the way to Paddock Wood and all the way to London Bridge on the train. Husband had the audacity to accuse me of sulking as we walked past The Shard and I told him to go away, leave me alone and please not come to hospital (I may have been slightly less polite!). I stomped off to Guys taking mild comfort in the knowledge that he was following from a safe distance.
We reunited in the waiting room. My appointment was with a specialist Breast Cancer Nurse, they are completely amazing people. They seem to run the whole Breast Cancer centre at Guys only referring occasionally to the Consultants when necessary. My left breast (the new one) had become slightly swollen. My bra was digging in a bit and the whole area was a little bit less comfortable. The nurse examined me with the help of a surgical nurse and they decided I had a little bit of seroma. This is when the fluid around the implant becomes swollen. They needed the opinion of the Consultant who agreed but didn't want to draw the fluid off as any introduction of needles adds a risk of infection. I have been advised to put up with the discomfort and return on Friday.
I am now even more annoyed about this as I've had to cancel my famous newsreader friends lunch on Friday which I was very much looking forward to and my breast is very uncomfortable. It feels like I'm wearing sandpaper inside my bra.
The bad day ended on a good note. The sun came out, I had a sleep in the garden. The children returned from karate class and had absolutely loved it. Husband and I were back on track and Mother-in-law popped by for a spot of supper. I had a relatively early night and slept quite well.
This morning has taken all the strength and resolve and Husband's Love to get me through. I woke up to the realisation that last Fridays diagnosis of Cancer in my lymph glands and a tumour over 5cm puts me in stage 3 not 2. I scrabbled around for my leaflet on staging and grading and indeed I have stage 3A breast cancer. This, according to my Macmillan 'Understanding Breast Cancer' book takes me from Early breast cancer - stages 1 & 2 to Locally-advanced Breast Cancer - stage 3. There are 4 stages of Breast Cancer and 3 Grades. I have already been told I have Grade 3.
With panic rising I logged onto Cancer Research's wonderful website to look at survival rates. I had already come to terms with around an 80% survival rate up to 5 years for Grade 2A. This morning's rushed research has shown a 40-50% survival rate for my new found stage. I cannot describe the feeling of despair that washes through my stomach when I even begin to contemplate my own mortality but with figures like these I'm beginning to think that it might be time for me to face up to it.
I'm crying as I type this and my wonderful Husband is reminding me that it doesn't change what we have to do. I have age, relative fitness, clean lungs, a great hospital, good diet and most importantly LOVE and support on my side.
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