Twenty Three
I am amazing myself with my capacity
for learning through this experience. Studying has never been my
strong point, I learn on the job. I suppose this could be a result of
my fragmented schooling or perhaps would have always been the way.
Nature v nurture - an endlessly fascinating debate. My lovely friend
who accompanied me to the hospital yesterday commented on my
scientific brain, what a compliment, I've never thought of myself
like that. I have always had an interest in medicine and drugs in
general but that is also another story.
Lovely friend needs a name, perhaps that's her name now. This is the same lady who stowed away to do my hair and help me pack, drove to Kent from London just to bring me a pot of pea soup for lunch, rushed from college last Thursday to be by my bedside when I was admitted by surprise. Her acts of kindness would take up a whole page so I'll leave it there.
When I had my Heart scan yesterday (ECG) I had to face away from the screen. A frustrating position as I like to have a look normally and try to work out what I can see. To ease my frustration she narrated the images for me. Where I would be trying to ascertain the valves and muscles she described seeing a small percussionist letting off fireworks. We are similar in so many ways but I have always envied her artistic mind.
The ECG went without a hitch. There was definitely a heart there. The valves are working and it's beating but that's about all the information I can have until they examine the measurements taken. I have no concerns about my heart and don't even really need the results. The scan is so they have a control for future scans. The drugs I am about to start taking can harm the heart, especially the Herceptin which can damage or thin the muscle wall. I will be scanned regularly and given a break from the treatment if my heart shows signs of change.
Next we had to track down my nurse for a spot of guerrilla nursing. With no appointment she tries to fit me in for things when I'm there to save me further journeys. We found her in the Oncology Dept and raced together up to theatre to find a consultant we could drag out of surgery long enough to examine my redness. As luck would have it my surgeon was walking towards us in his scrubs as we entered the department. He saw us and spotted an empty examination room. We all piled in had a rushed but thorough look at my new boob.
The redness is still there after a week of strong antibiotics. It's not as angry. I feel fine, have no temperature and not as much pain. He is happy and is pretty sure it's not an infection. I can stop taking the antibiotics after 10 days which will be Sunday night leaving me ready to start chemo as planned on Wednesday. Believe it or not, this is really good news.
Aside from the medical learnings and the amazing things I'm finding out about the effects of diet on our bodies (not just from reading - I'm always a bit sceptical about anything that looks or sounds too hippy, dippy - but actually on my body. My skin has never been this clear. I've lost weight but only the loose bad bits and not any muscle. I feel really, really well) But I'm also learning what 'fighting cancer', a phrase we all use, really means. It's one I've struggled with until recently (as in the last 24 hours or so). It's been hard to know what it means to 'fight' when I'm not feeling ill and having to go with, not against all the treatment. 'Fighting Cancer' means 'staying happy, even when every rational thought is telling you that you have no right to', it means 'being normal and nice to your kids even when you have a nagging fear deep in your stomach that there's a small chance you won't see them grow up' it means 'not freaking out when things get tough but being able to stop, breathe and start again'. It is the enormous pile of intense emotion that you have to constantly fight. I know I've said this before but it really is people like Lovely friend, and all my friends and family who are helping me do this.
Now that I've had this epiphany into what Fighting Cancer really means I'm going to fight even harder. I can't wait to get through all this and go on a massive hot, sunny beach holiday!
Lovely friend needs a name, perhaps that's her name now. This is the same lady who stowed away to do my hair and help me pack, drove to Kent from London just to bring me a pot of pea soup for lunch, rushed from college last Thursday to be by my bedside when I was admitted by surprise. Her acts of kindness would take up a whole page so I'll leave it there.
When I had my Heart scan yesterday (ECG) I had to face away from the screen. A frustrating position as I like to have a look normally and try to work out what I can see. To ease my frustration she narrated the images for me. Where I would be trying to ascertain the valves and muscles she described seeing a small percussionist letting off fireworks. We are similar in so many ways but I have always envied her artistic mind.
The ECG went without a hitch. There was definitely a heart there. The valves are working and it's beating but that's about all the information I can have until they examine the measurements taken. I have no concerns about my heart and don't even really need the results. The scan is so they have a control for future scans. The drugs I am about to start taking can harm the heart, especially the Herceptin which can damage or thin the muscle wall. I will be scanned regularly and given a break from the treatment if my heart shows signs of change.
Next we had to track down my nurse for a spot of guerrilla nursing. With no appointment she tries to fit me in for things when I'm there to save me further journeys. We found her in the Oncology Dept and raced together up to theatre to find a consultant we could drag out of surgery long enough to examine my redness. As luck would have it my surgeon was walking towards us in his scrubs as we entered the department. He saw us and spotted an empty examination room. We all piled in had a rushed but thorough look at my new boob.
The redness is still there after a week of strong antibiotics. It's not as angry. I feel fine, have no temperature and not as much pain. He is happy and is pretty sure it's not an infection. I can stop taking the antibiotics after 10 days which will be Sunday night leaving me ready to start chemo as planned on Wednesday. Believe it or not, this is really good news.
Aside from the medical learnings and the amazing things I'm finding out about the effects of diet on our bodies (not just from reading - I'm always a bit sceptical about anything that looks or sounds too hippy, dippy - but actually on my body. My skin has never been this clear. I've lost weight but only the loose bad bits and not any muscle. I feel really, really well) But I'm also learning what 'fighting cancer', a phrase we all use, really means. It's one I've struggled with until recently (as in the last 24 hours or so). It's been hard to know what it means to 'fight' when I'm not feeling ill and having to go with, not against all the treatment. 'Fighting Cancer' means 'staying happy, even when every rational thought is telling you that you have no right to', it means 'being normal and nice to your kids even when you have a nagging fear deep in your stomach that there's a small chance you won't see them grow up' it means 'not freaking out when things get tough but being able to stop, breathe and start again'. It is the enormous pile of intense emotion that you have to constantly fight. I know I've said this before but it really is people like Lovely friend, and all my friends and family who are helping me do this.
Now that I've had this epiphany into what Fighting Cancer really means I'm going to fight even harder. I can't wait to get through all this and go on a massive hot, sunny beach holiday!
Wednesday, 17 October 2012
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iphone. If you can, please let me know how. Thank you.
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