Sixty Six

I was trotting along, settling in, getting used to things and then BANG! Everything changed. Almost overnight.

On Sunday 10th December I had a conversation with my dad on the phone. I hadn't spoken to him for a while, he had been working and is always terrible at keeping in touch when he's got a long job on. I knew he hadn't been well. My husband had seen him the weekend before and was worried about him. Thought he was completely exhausted. The phone conversation threw me into a flat spin. He not only sounded confused and slightly slurred but admitted to having problems spelling simple words and remembering things.

The next morning I dropped the kids at school and drove straight to Kent to see him. He was unable to work and struggling at home with simple tasks. I thought maybe he'd had a stroke. We spoke to his Doctor on the phone and made an appointment for the next day. I returned home. Tuesday morning I dropped the kids at school and drove back to Kent. We went to the Doctor and explained the problems he'd been having. She examined him thoroughly and gave him antibiotics for a chest infection. She made a request for an urgent referral to a Neurologist and suggested possible mini strokes, a nervous breakdown or potentially something putting pressure on part of his brain.

I drove back to London and was replaced by my Sister who raced up from Cornwall on the train. She has taken over my role as big Sister and has been truly amazing. My Brother was there too and on the Wednesday My Dad's lovely Girlfriend returned from London where she had been working for the beginning of the week (she normally spends Monday-Wednesday in town). They muddled through and although he was happy and relaxed having them all there taking care of him, the symptoms kept returning.

On Friday afternoon my Sister phoned to say he'd had some sort of fit. She thought it was a stroke so she called an ambulance. We dropped the girls with friends and drove back down. He had to endure a whole heap of tests including a chest xray which showed lesions on his right lung. A CT scan showing a mass and some fluid on his brain and a series of questions and tests to ascertain his levels of confusion and co-ordination. He was cheerful throughout and it sounded like there was a party coming from his cubicle in A&E.

He spent the weekend holding court in his own private room. A constant stream of visitors. He also had further scans and an MRI. He was given steroids which immediately returned his marbles. He looked rested and we all felt much more positive.

On Monday 16th I drove back down to Kent to take my Mum out for her Birthday lunch and pop in on Dad. On our way out we got a call from Dad, he was upset. We drove straight to the Hospital. He had been given his diagnosis. Mum didn't get her Birthday lunch.

My Dad has been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. He has a tumour in the bottom of his right lung. It has spread, via his lymphatic system to his brain where he has two tumours and to his adrenal gland which is on his right, just above his kidney.

I can't even begin to put into words, the emotional effect of this news on us all. I can't even start to try. I can only tell you the facts right now and hope that in doing so I can somehow lessen the constant sickness in my stomach.

So, we have been coping. Pulling together. On Tuesday 17th his Sister arrived from Canada, on her Birthday. Herself a cancer survivor. They let Dad go home and my Sister finally headed back to Cornwall to try and prepare for Christmas. My Brother stopped working to spend as much time as possible helping out. I drove backwards and forwards.

We are still in shock. Unfortunately it does nothing to mask the pain. We move forwards, we smile for the kids. I've cried a bit, not enough, still terrified to really let go. Not one of us can sleep properly. I have prayed, broken down in the street and laughed and loved with my family.

If this is a test, I'm not convinced we can pass it. It's becoming more and more difficult to stay buoyant, stay positive. The rational me is taking a battering.

Dad is doing well. He feels surrounded by Love. He has a wonderful woman. He feels he's had a great life. Today he had some really good news. He had a meeting with the Oncologists who have prescribed a course of Radiotherapy on his brain. They would like to try to shrink the tumours down sufficiently to stop the steroids. This will start urgently, as soon as they have a machine spare. We are hoping for a cancellation.

They are going to take a biopsy of his chest and when they have his brain cancer under control they are going to give him Chemotherapy to treat the rest. This will buy him time. How much time, no one can say. He is thrilled with this news. Happy that they think it's worth his while. When I'm with him, the pain goes away a bit. The rest of the time, it's almost too much to bear. It was so much easier when it was all about me. But it's not now and Cancer was one experience I didn't want to share.

Sixty Five

The wind is howling outside. I'm in bed with all my clothes on. Because I've written so much of my blog in bed, it seems to be the only place I feel comfortable doing it. That and the fact that the house is cold and if I sit still for an hour I will freeze! Our bed is at the top of the house, in what used to be the attic. We had it converted when we were told we needed a whole new roof. In for a penny and all that. Unfortunately because I was so heavily pregnant at the time and didn't keep nearly as close an eye on the build as I should have done, you really do feel out in the elements. Today I can feel the house being buffeted and hear the wind outside. When it rains, it sounds like someone is dropping pebbles on the roof just above our heads. In the summer it gets so hot we have to sleep with all the windows open. Basically it's like living in a caravan on the top of our house. That's probably why I love it so much.

It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas. The girls have written their lists, I have tried my best to make sure they're not too disappointed. The house is getting festive (more so when I finally get round to buying a tree) and you can't leave the house without falling into a local Christmas gathering. I'm super chuffed to be in more of a position to enjoy it than last year, it's hard to go back and think about the lead up to that Christmas. The children have assured me that this will be the best Christmas ever.

On the weekend of 23rd November we drove to the Cotswolds. One of the twins lives there with his glamorous, brilliant, ever-busy wife and three kids. We walked and cooked and caught up and prepared for their first dinner party in the house with local friends they have met since moving there. It was a freezing cold night and the house was steaming hot with all the open fires blazing. The food was delicious and the company friendly and fun. I did fall slightly off the wagon but tried not to regret it too much in the morning as it had been such fun.

We took our hangovers, the next day, to the pub. Where all good hangovers should go. We managed to meet up with some dear friends who we haven't seen for ages and all go for a good Cotswolds stomp together.

This not-drinking thing gets very hard at this time of year. In fact it was pretty hard in the summer too - no long gin and tonics in Ibiza town.... no cold pints on hot days... But I find it harder around Christmas. All that lovely spicy warm booze laced with sugar. That's a big fat no on both counts. Red wine by the fire. No.Warm apple juice with Bison grass vodka. No. Single malt whiskey at the end of a meal. No (well actually yes, this is still a weakness I'm yet to control).

Aaarrrgghhhh! Flipping laptop keeps crashing! I'm now typing on the iPad. This will be the third lesson. I've been wondering what it would be. The third lesson in backing things up. These lessons always come in threes to make sure you have truly learned them. Firstly the blog, then I lost my phone in the Cotswolds whilst having a wee behind a stone wall on a walk and now my laptop. Great.

Where was I? Ah yes Drinking. Now, Ive never been a huge booze hound but I do like a tipple especially when combined with a dance or a giggle. I tend not to be able to drink to massive excess because I throw up or pass out before that happens but I  like to drink in moderation. I've been informed that this has to stop.

During a meeting with a nutritionist I asked about drinking, previously I have been told that if I want to enjoy a glass of wine with dinner then that's fine. This lady told me that because my cancer was hormone reactive I cannot risk drinking at all. Alcohol effects your oestrogen levels and this could kick start growth in any remaining cancer cells. Alcohol also contains stupid amounts of sugar which cancer cells feed on. I asked the 'just one glass a week with food?' question and she said that if I absolutely had to I should have half a glass and really enjoy it and make it last all night!

Seeing as I'm not a huge fan of wine and I don't think she meant half a glass of vodka or whiskey I've been pretty dry for quite some time now.  I have asked my Husband to stop offering me a drink when he has one and to stop pouring me a glass on the off chance. This has made it easier at home but it's still hard when we go out. If there is dancing involved I can be distracted but sit down dinners are definitely my Achilles heel. Not to mention 'Christmas drinkies'. Please don't stop inviting me though, I promise not to become a horrendous bore!

What it boils down to is giving my self the best possible shot at survival. I have five years to get through before we know whether the cancer has all gone. This five years is just about to start. I cannot risk the guilt of knowing I could have done more if the cancer comes back. So another clean Christmas for me.

Now, onto treatment. I had my Herceptin on Tuesday. I am thrilled to announce that I only have one dose left and unfortunately that will be on Christmas eve. I am very excited about having the port in my chest removed as it has become more uncomfortable as I lost weight. January will be a new beginning of sorts. Then I have the 1825 day countdown to the day that I will be officially in remission and cancer free.