37. Rollercoaster
25th October 2007
This week, I received a copy of the letter sent to my GP from the consultant I saw for my final review. In it he says I’m doing very well and the reconstruction feels a little solid at present but this is quite common with radiotherapy and it should soften in time and otherwise I have a very good cosmetic result… You mean it’s going to get even better?!! I couldn’t be more pleased! Now, I’d just like to get rid of the square patch of burnt skin, (from the radiotherapy), on my right breast so it looks normal again. I tried to think up some story about falling asleep whilst sunbathing in the back yard to explain it but what could possibly leave a neat 2 inch square on your boob? So that’s it now, I’m still taking my pills and my next appointment is in a year’s time for a mammography. I’ve been cast adrift, back out on the sea of life and I suppose I should be feeling good but it seems some of the best months of my life were just after my diagnosis of breast cancer and during my treatment.
How strange that I’m finding it harder now. I feel a bit…lost! I think it’s the uncertainty about things – life, finances, (I’m having to wait 6 weeks for my NHS bursary to restart because they are “very busy“), relationships (the last one bombed!) and questions such as “Will IT come back one day?” and “Oh my god, what is that lump in my breast? Was that one there before?!!!” or “There’s an ache in my back, no…it’s in my kidneys…IT’S IN MY KIDNEYS?!…”
I went back to nursing and found that really strange too. I was scared that I wasn’t going to be able to cope but after a week of insomnia and worry that my head was going to pop, I realised it was going to be ok and I started to relax and enjoy working in the community. The breast care nurse who gave me my second zoladex injection told me many women freak out a bit like me (my words not hers!) and a lot go back to work part time at first. I’m working in a tough area of the city – even the cats have attitude. We had to stop the car the other day for a big tom cat who sauntered out into the road and then stopped in the middle whilst it studied something it had spotted the other side. We had to beep at it before it moved on. We visit a few clients who live alone and are dying of cancer and I try not to think about how hard that would be. The other day one of the nurses was assaulted by a random guy but she’s ok. They’ve assigned me as her bodyguard this week. I’m 5ft 2.
I’ve been busy outside work too. We nearly killed another cat this week. I was entrusted the care of a much loved Persian Blue kitten worth £300 and spent a week catsitting the animal at it’s home. One night, after a few drinks down the pub, my friend decided she would come back with me, sleep over and help take care of the cat. She nearly did take care of it too as I awoke to see the cat teetering on the very edge of the bedroom window sill. It was clearly considering jumping out to reach a noisy blackbird in the garden. My friend had opened the window because the room was hot. “That wasn’t such a good idea,” I said quietly whereupon she woke up, saw the cat balancing in the window and shouted, “F#@*!!” very loudly. This startled the cat who very nearly fell through the window. Quick as a flash I leapt up and ran down the stairs in my pants, my head spinning with real ale and began tapping the cat bowl in desperation to entice the cat back in. Thankfully it worked but we were a bit shaken by the incident. Anyone need catsitters?
This week, Ali and I drove to Lincoln to visit a pub that is going to help us raise money by holding a biker evening and we chatted gaily about cancer together on the way. Someone told me having cancer was like a rollercoaster ride and it’s so true. One moment you are feeling invincible, positive and determined to get out there and live life to the full and the next moment you’ve dipped so far you feel totally hopeless and just want to cry. It was about this point in our serious discussion that Ali and I discovered how to pretend you have a boyfriend when you don’t because the Tom Tom I had been fiddling with and discarded suddenly came to life in my lap. The loud and sexy Tom Tom voice of ‘James’ was resonating: “At the next round-a-bout, take the second exit,” between my legs. I jumped out of my skin and we both laughed. If you ever miss not having a man, try dropping a Tom Tom into your lap on full volume and wait for instructions! Ali is thinking about dating again but she’s really worried about revealing her reconstruction to someone – she had a total mastectomy and breast reconstruction including a nipple constructed out of skin and a tattoo for the pink bits. It’s very clever but she has a lot more scars than I have. They also took muscle from her stomach to reconstruct her breast so there is scarring there too. She can’t really make up a shark attack story like me with my one small scar in the armpit. She’s also worried about the ‘I have something to tell you…’ moment where you have to tell your date about your breast cancer. After my last experience with canoe man, I’ve decided I’m not in a hurry to repeat this! I feel lucky though – if I showed you my breasts you wouldn’t be able to guess which one was a recon job.
I made sure I had some fun too by continuing my real ale education with a visit to the beer festival. We sampled some good ciders and beers and marvelled at the numbers of men milling around. One particular cider, that my friend Odette had chosen, tasted strongly of goats cheese but she said it went well with the olives we were eating. However, when she woke up the following morning the goats cheese flavour was still lingering and it didn’t taste quite so nice. I loved seeing all those barrels of beer lined up along the walls and asking the cask people for their “finest beer” or “finest perry” and I also discovered something new; real ale makes me irresistible to men. The taxi driver told me I was lovely, asked for my hand and planted a very gentle kiss on it.
We went to watch the rugby the following day and I fell down the stairs in the pub. I’d only had a pint of White Squall and a lime and soda at the time so it was a little embarrassing. In trying to stop myself falling to the bottom of the stairs in front of everyone I also managed to grate the skin off the back of my hand on the anaglypta wallpaper. Nasty stuff that wallpaper but at least it slowed me down and stopped me breaking my neck. I felt like I’d really been through a white squall after that. I’m sure those stairs are too narrow because other people then admitted to taking a tumble down them or stair surfing on them but a quick survey revealed it was only people with size five feet or above. Once again the beer made me irresistible to men and I was asked out by a guy called ‘Beefy’. I’ve ditched my DKNY perfume – I’m just using a dab of Elsie Mo from now on.
36. Shark fin
7th October 2007
I’ve been waiting to see if this will be the week my life gets turned around after the forecast by Mystic Meg Man. Funnily enough, I bumped into him on the way to the Doc’s this week but he didn’t seem quiet so convinced about my future, in fact, he looked sideways at me and then sheepishly down at the pavement. Oh well, the week began well. I sent a photo of my boobs to Ewan McGregor and then on Thursday, Ali and I went to the launch of a lingerie shop with the supermodel, Caprice. That sounds really great doesn’t it?!! Well, until I explain myself it does. I wrote to Ewan for advice after his own motor bike trip around the world, ‘The Long Way Round’. I don’t expect to ever hear from him, (especially after including the boob photo – don’t worry, Ali had them covered – with her hands). Caprice was at the launch of a lingerie shop we’d been invited to. We walked straight past her on the way into the shop and did our best not to outdo her glamour-wise. She looked…very model-like but I wanted to offer her a sausage roll.
We also met an interesting lady from the charity ‘Against Breast Cancer’ and had a good chat about some research they are doing into the link between lifestyles and breast cancer in the UK. She mentioned how we have one of the worst survival rates in Europe. Greece seems to be the best place to live if you have breast cancer. I’m thinking about it. We told her about our charity motorbike ride around Europe. We’ve had a great offer from a pub in Lincoln who want to hold regular fundraising biker evenings for us. We’ve also had other great offers of support including some more advanced motor bike lessons for when/if we pass our tests. A school in Hull has even offered to send down an instructor to us for a couple of days. There are some good people around.
On the motorbike subject, we’re going to accept all the lessons we can get because we’re beginning to appreciate how difficult it is riding a bike. We had a lesson recently with a brave instructor who took us on the big bikes up to Derby. Now, I have to admit I didn’t realise how hairy or hard it would be learning to ride a bike. Well, I was gripping on to the handle bars for dear life all the way from Nottingham to Derby. I think Ali was too because the instructor kept repeating calmly over the intercom, “Relax girls, drop those shoulders,”. The next day we were both aching like old ladies with rheumatism. In fact, I don’t think my neck knots have untied themselves yet and we’re back on the bikes soon. Anyway, we made it safely to Derby and back and even hit 70mph!! At 70mph, I remember thinking, “I’m going to blow off backwards from this bike any minute now.” I decided I’d have to start eating more and develop some ballast if I’m going to stay on the bike in strong winds. As we drove up to the motorbike school for lunch, I was feeling quite proud that we’d made it safely to Derby. That was until I realised even the instructors in Derby had heard about my first lesson when I lost control of the bike, ran over that poor instructor, and sped off wildly down the car park pulling a wheelie. I sat and ate my sandwiches quietly after they’d had a bit of a laugh about it. I love being on the bike though! I can’t wait for my next lesson.
I started back nursing which feels very strange being the other side again and I feel knackered most of the time. I’ve had the all clear from Occupational Health and I’ve seen a breast consultant for the last time before my next check up in a year from now. The breast consultant poked me in the armpit and we realised I’m not quite healed yet when I nearly jumped off the couch. It’s almost 5 months since my reconstruction but I guess I’ve underestimated the time it takes the body to heal properly. The consultant laughed quietly at the slight blue tinge to my boob from the dye they injected back in April. He seemed very impressed by the skill of his colleague though, saying, “There must have been some huffing and puffing that went on in that operation!”. It’s a fantastic result because I don’t think anyone will ever realise I’ve had surgery for breast cancer and reconstruction unless I tell them. If anyone ever asks about the scar under my arm, I’ll say, “Shark fin…lucky escape.”
I was recognised last Friday night in a pub by another woman I’d seen in the radiotherapy department a few times. We’d never actually spoken, just nodded at each other; she said I seemed to have my head in a magazine most days. We agreed the department needs a revamp; the seating arrangement does little to encourage conversation, and the décor is grim especially the false ceiling with it’s oppressive grid pattern. I was interested to hear that she hadn’t been impressed either by the Oncologist who prescribed me a drug that has not been trialled properly in premenopausal women. She told me her story too. She’s had a lumpectomy like me, (but no reconstruction yet), as well as chemotherapy and radiotherapy. 2 days after her lumpectomy, her husband walked out on her and their 2 children. She still has a sense of humour and manages to run her own business. I said, “Blimey, you must be a tough one.” She replied, “We have to be, don’t we?! It teaches us how to be tough, doesn’t it?” We’ve agreed to go for a coffee sometime.
Most of the women I meet who have had breast cancer are strong, positive and driven. They know what they want from life and how to enjoy it properly now.
