Tag: emotional

Time to Share the Big C News

I appreciate that this brain dump isn’t exactly cohesive, but I can’t tell you how much better I felt for doing this – we all have to do what’s right for us and I’m a list girl. If I brain dump and write a list I feel back in control and I think that’s the crux of it for me. Control. Everything in my world is under my control: I’m in charge; work, kid’s social life, friends (I mean that in the right way… generally, I’m the strong one). This is probably why I’m struggling with this. I’m not in control at all, the lump, the procedures, the process, the outcome, the long term prognosis, my thoughts… this is the hardest thing for me. I’ve always been brilliant at controlling my thinking and my emotions; something I perfected at an early age, as you can imagine, but this has sent me into a spiral of unanswered questions. You may have noticed that I’m not the most emotional of people so my list is about practical and logical stuff predominately.

I also hate negativity and sympathy, for me they are pointless, hold no positive outcome and just make people like me feel worse. I do NOT want people to feel sorry for me or to behave differently towards me. Christ, I have a lump, yeah ok it’s big and it’s cancer BUT that doesn’t change who I am.

Making the decision to only tell my favourite people has also helped me enormously. I feel like I’ve some control and what it also enables me to do is to ensure I don’t have a pity party. The sad, knowing looks like you’re already dead. For fuck’s sake, I could NOT cope with that. The head tilted to one side, pity in their eyes and a, “How are you feeling? Have you started the treatment? Oh, your hair…” I don’t want pity or sympathy, it won’t make me better AND, more importantly, I don’t want to have copious negative conversations about the same topic; that would drive me crazy.

HELLO! I’m still me. I still exist in my normal form which is gobby, loud, silly, funny, direct Vicki. Mum, boss, frikking amazing friend and the most honest person any of you will ever meet. Don’t misunderstand me, I know people mean well but I think I’d end up knocking someone out.

What this will also ensure is that my other friends and mates and staff will treat me exactly the same. Possibly not the right way for everyone but, hell, it’s made me feel great AND in control of how they behave towards of me. My favourites get me and will completely understand what I need from them which is positivity, happy, normalcy unless I want to talk about it.

Saturday 26th December

Boxing Day night, my friend Sally invited everyone over to her house for the evening. The street I live on is fab. I’ve been here with the boys since 2002. December 17th to be precise and when I moved in the heating didn’t work nor did the sky TV. I knocked on my unsuspecting neighbours’ doors to ask for help and found within number 38 two amazing people who have become great friends of mine; Sally and Derek. Sally fixed the heating and Derek didn’t manage to fix the Sky but we bonded over a crate of freezing cold Strongbow and our fate was sealed. Over the years we’ve had many a fun tale to share.

It was lovely to spend Boxing Day evening with friends, but I struggled a bit to keep it together. When Sally asked me again what the outcome was, I fluffed her off. I just wanted to buy some time. No one wants those conversations over Christmas or at a party, but I knew this wasn’t going to be the end of the conversation; she’s not stupid! So she came over the following day and I told her where we were at and what the real outcome was. She was, as I expected, great. Sally is very different to me and is very emotionally driven BUT she knows me so well and delivered exactly what I needed: positivity, practical thinking. Not all the sad shit.

Monday 29th December

By Dec 28th I’ve arranged to see Clips – real name Clare – to share the happy news. She’s 10 years younger than me and an amazing friend and great support. We met through work about 18 years ago. God, that makes me feel really old. We worked together on and off for years and during that time became great friends. She’s hilarious and absolutely brilliant to work with. In fact, when I started my business she was our Girl Friday (and Wednesday, she only did 2 days initially). Whilst I’m strong, I seriously do not think I’d have got this far with the business without her. Amazing woman and very fucking funny. She gets me, gets my sick humour. Oh, and the nickname? I’m not particularly good at remembering peoples’ names and when you manage a team of 20 it’s kind of important that you can address each and every one of them, so re-naming them is my trademark.

Clips and I met at our usual upmarket haunt, Macdonald’s. Coffee high, here we come! I approached the conversation with a strategy.

Tactic one: get them to talk

“So, how was Christmas, Clips?”
“No, come on. I want to know about the hospital,” she said.
Shit.

Tactic two: distract them

“Oh, I meant to show you this. It’s our new brochure.” Clips has always been interested in what we did at work – she left us a couple of years ago to pursue a career in a school helping severely challenged children.
“It’s great Vee I love it. I still have the first one we did.” She puts it in her bag.
“So, how WAS Christmas?” I say.
“NO. What happened at the hospital?”
Double shit. I take a breath.
“I’ve got Cancer… Well, no, I haven’t but my boob has.”

I have no idea why I just blurted that out. No idea at all. I’d planned what I would say and I can assure you it wasn’t that. FFS. Now her eyes have filled up. “Right, Clips you can’t be upset.”

Apparently, I can’t control how my news will make people feel. I made her laugh, it’s my coping mechanism, it’s really sick, black humour but that’s me. It’s the only way I know how to deal with difficult situations. I explained to her what had happened on Christmas Eve but that I didn’t want her to be upset. Stupid really, isn’t it? Of course she’s going to be upset, she loves me. Another lesson in control – apparently I can’t control how she will feel or react… hmmm. So I’d said that if she was going to be upset then it could be no more than a 3/10. I mean, I did want to know she cares. Her text to me made me fill up.

Ok, so I managed to get to the end of the path before I cried….👍 Told Karl after a few deep breaths and I may have reached a level 4 as there was snot 😤
Makeup reapplied and I’m back 😁
I know you know but if there is ANYTHING you need from me I’m here 😘
xxxx

New Year’s Day

January 1st turns out to be a great day. I feel like I achieve a lot. I’ve written some pages for this blog, I’ve taken the boys out for a last-minute lunch – basically, I’d forgotten to buy some food to cook for today – can’t imagine what had distracted me? Anyway, we went out and had a really good laugh. I’ve explained to them that we need to be prepared for the fact I’ve most probably got cancer and that there will be some treatment of some description. If you have kids you’d probably do exactly what I did which is tell them a version of the facts. I don’t lie nor would I, but what’s the point of telling your kids half a story? I explained that I get the result on Thursday. Bless, they thought a letter would come through the post. I explained that I have to go to the hospital and they asked if they could come with me. NO CHANCE. Bloody hell, I’ll need time to work out how best to manage myself through the process before I share with them what’s going to happen.

Doing the things I’m in control of has really helped me to keep my thinking and emotions on track.

I’m looking forward to going to work as, to be truthful, having all this time off to fester and think isn’t helpful for me. I’ve done everything I can do to fill my time and meet up with friends and dog walks, etc., but I still have way too much time to think. Monday will be great – I’ve staff training to do, oh, and I have to nip to court in Grantham to stand as a reference for one of my team. I think she’s a book in her own right! But today has been a good day. Doing the things I’m in control of has really helped me to keep my thinking and emotions on track. I woke in the night but wasn’t plagued by the horror thoughts of previous nights.

I feel a little bit like the lump is not really part of my body and that by touching it I’m making it real or helping it to grow.

Sugar. Now there’s a lot in the press at the moment about refined sugar being bad for us and it being linked to cancer. Fortunately, I don’t have a sweet tooth but strangely I started eating more sugary things early December. It might be relevant, it might not, but it does seem a bit odd to me that I’ve eaten so much more and now have cancer. I must remember to bring this up at my next appointments.

Now it’s odd, but since the biopsy, I’ve not wanted to feel my lump, which by the way was described by my GP as being the size of a plum, but I do have big boobs. Well, at the moment I have, I’m currently unsure of their long term fate!

I feel a little bit like the lump is not really part of my body and that by touching it I’m making it real or helping it to grow. What’s also bizarre is that when I wake up in the night I can “feel” my boob. Not with my hands but just as I lay there I can feel it – if you’ve ever suffered with ‘irritable legs,’ you’ll know it’s a weird feeling. You notice your legs, but day to day you don’t really notice your body as individual components. Yet as I lay there in the night I can feel my boob – it’s the oddest thing. It does ache a bit but then again it has been abused somewhat recently.

Why am I So Pissed Off on My Birthday?

Thursday 14th April

What can I say about today? Nothing other than I feel THE most emotional I’ve ever felt in MY ENTIRE LIFE. What’s this all about? I’m crying for literally no reason. I’ve had some visitors over but I bet I’ve been a complete prick today. People are so lovely though – so understanding. I’m really struggling with this crying shit coupled with the chemo brain I don’t even know my own mind anymore. It’s really scary. As I said it’s a bit like a bad hangover but 50 times worse. At least with a hangover, you get to have some fun first. It makes me feel so thick. I forget things and it makes my brain work slower, not a big deal you might be thinking but for someone like me who rarely makes mistakes, this is horrific.

On the bright side however, I’ve got a friend who’s told me she’s thrilled for the first time in our friendship she can keep up.

I know that I’ve said this before but I really don’t want you to underestimate just how debilitating it is. I forget what I’m saying, I can’t remember basic words and I struggle to follow what’s being said to me. It’s not that I get bored but I just fail to comprehend the simple stuff. It’s like my brain is thinking “Unless it’s happening in the next 5 minutes, I probably don’t need to know” and deletes any brain cells that might have been used for storage. It’s been extremely humbling. I’ve made mistakes regarding work, I’ve had to admit that I can’t remember what I’ve been told, I struggle to make the right decisions and it’s like I can’t get my brain to do what it normally does without much effort. On the bright side, however, I’ve got a friend who’s told me she’s thrilled for the first time in our friendship she can keep up. My usual communication style is a little bit of a scatter gun approach and often leave friends with a number of half-completed stories. It’s funny but I guess a bit irritating.

Friday 15th April

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME! It’s 15th April – HURRAH, another year on the planet. I LOVE my birthday always have… so why do I feel so bloody pissed off? I woke up crying and basically spent the rest of the day doing pretty much the same thing. The friend who cancelled me has left a gap in my day which just adds to how pissed off I’m feeling. I got ready to drive over to Northampton to see Karen for lunch but as I couldn’t stop crying I aborted the journey after about 15 minutes.

I’m not overly vain but honestly, can these chemicals take anything else that distinguishes me as a woman?

Thankfully she’s really understanding and gets it, but what an utterly shit birthday. To add insult to injury the boys gave me my card but said that my present hadn’t arrived. Now whilst this might not be a big deal, trust me today it was like the end of the world. Very dramatic and unreasonable behaviour from me but to be honest that’s exactly how I feel – unreasonable and grumpy.

Oh, and as an extra special gift for me, my nails have started to lift. My beautiful natural nails that I look after, nurture, love and which are a bit of trademark are about to fall off. REALLY??? Anything else? I’m not overly vain but honestly, can these chemicals take anything else that distinguishes me as a woman? I don’t feel so bad with the nausea and fatigue this time just finding the emotional side hard to deal with. Early night for me with the attitude that tomorrow will be brighter…fingers crossed.

Thursday 5th May

May 5th and it’s my next spa day. A little out of sync but I had a day out booked for yesterday that, come hell or high water, I was NOT going to miss, nor was I going to turn up feeling special. I wanted my personality in attendance not one of my thick days. I’d won the chance to spend a day with the Red Arrows. It was a superb day and well worth putting off the treatment for. However, now I’m feeling special. FEC can feck off. I had it administered not 3 hours ago and already I can’t stop bloody crying. FFS…how bloody annoying. It’s alright, it’s not for any reason whatsoever. I’m not built for this crying shit. It’s just utterly pointless AND FOR NO REASON WHATSOEVER. I got annoyed with the boys when they got home from school, who were only trying to help me. Honestly, this is a bigger bloody challenge than feeling ill.

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Monday 9th May

It’s funny how you can change. It’s 9th May and I’m sat in bed like I do most chemo week mornings and am watching telly, chatting to the kids, drinking tea and generally doing nothing that works to a timeline, and do you know what? It’s just great and never in my life did I think I’d be saying things like this. I’ve never just done nothing, didn’t really know why you’d want to, but it’s great and I seem to have so much headspace. My thinking, although slower, seems clearer in a really odd way. I also seem to have so much time as well, which is just great. But I have to say this drug really does make me moody. My poor kids have no idea what they’re going to get when they come home, I’m either euphoric or roaring I’m irrational, hormonal and special… #chemojoys

Tuesday 17th May

Tuesday 17 May and I had my usual appointment with Karen the oncologist today. They’ve found a lump under my scar where the lymph sentinel node was taken from. She said it was probably nothing to worry about but was sending me for a scan anyway and that if the radiographer was concerned he would take a biopsy. So I trotted along the following day about 5 pm (private health cover is the best) and had the scan…and a biopsy. I had a meltdown. I was told I’d get the results in about two weeks. I couldn’t pull myself together. How can I get cancer when I’m being treated for it? If it was scar tissue, why did they do a biopsy? I know they can tell the difference. The chap on Xmas Eve was VERY clear. The super lovely lady who is usually in the room for the procedure was trying to chat to me about stuff, but I just couldn’t hear her or reply.

This has seriously tipped me over the edge – I’ve literally got to my MAXIMUM coping capacity.

As I left, I drove the wrong way home and found a layby. I sobbed for about forty minutes, inconsolable, confused and fucking gutted. I just want my hair to grow back and get back to normal. I’ve been so good, I’ve recognised that getting better relies upon my learning my lessons, staying calm, not working like a demon or conducting my life at breakneck speed. I’ve done EVERYTHING. I’ve approached it with my usual positivity. The unfairness of this is just beyond my comprehension. I phoned my friend – I didn’t speak, I wailed and delivered my third ranty, illogical, irrational meltdown since this delightful journey began…and cannot tell you how much it helped.

I had got lost in the emotional spiral which is very unlike me, I’m usually extremely practical and logical. Some 30 minutes later I was back on the right track. I almost felt like I was being punished for coping with this so well and being so positive. This has seriously tipped me over the edge – I’ve literally got to my MAXIMUM coping capacity.

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I do deal with things myself a lot and always find the bright side, the silver lining, I guess I’m just lucky that way. This IS hard, make no mistake but what I choose to share with the outside world whilst I’m going through this is my business and my choice. No one wants to hear you moaning or your sorry stories about your day, it’s not interesting and more importantly, it wouldn’t bloody help, so if you’re in the same situation think twice about it and keep your friends as friends and not carers. You’ll get through this and you don’t want people changing their roles after the event.

So the outcome. I found out two days later – thank god – that it was just scar tissue and nothing really for me to have got in such state about. I feel bad about overreacting. Really bad. It’s just stupid and can’t have been pleasant for my friend being on the receiving end of that little treat!!

Very much the same as last time only the nausea and the tiredness are getting easier to bear. Again the irrational hormonal emotional stuff is a bloody nightmare but I’m becoming more accepting of it, less cross with myself about how much I cry. So what? I seem to be the only one who gets bent out of shape about it – no one else seems to mind. Each morning I’ve woken up and before I open my eyes I’m marvelling at how well I feel in comparison to how I felt previously. Yup, I feel good enough to get a shower and gently get on with my day. My eyelashes are becoming a little sparse and I’m just praying that they stay put till everything starts to grow back, I really do not want to have to wear falsies.

 

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The Final Spa Treatment

Friday May 27th

Friday May 27th and I’m so done, in every single way. I had my last spa session yesterday, just nine days or so to get through. I’m currently sat in bed after a long sleep and I feel OK this morning. I’ve got a collection of visitors to keep me entertained again today. I’m delighted to say that this session was just one cannula and they took their time to shove the chemicals in. So now I’ve just got to batten down the hatches have lots of sleep and take care of myself.

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One thing you don’t think about is your veins. I know that’s weird, isn’t it? But you don’t and I cannot tell you how sore they become. Certain parts of your arms become so sensitive to touch because I’m guessing they’ve been so badly damaged throughout the excessive chemical warfare they’ve had to cope with. I’ve been to a therapist and had a couple of oncology qualified massages – which by the way have been fabulous. They exist so don’t miss out on some real spa treatments. Go and find someone who’s qualified to deliver, it really does help. The only issue is when they massage your arms – I kept forgetting to tell her just how much it hurt and it’s a weird pain – a bit like toothache – hard to describe but excruciating just the same.

Thursday 2nd June

I’m free – June 2nd Karen and I jet off to Spain – I know really I shouldn’t be going anywhere I’m not even a full week after the last chemo but as I said I’m at maximum coping capacity with all of this and I just need to believe and feel like it’s over. So a holiday seems like a great way to do that. Sadly however my emotions aren’t exactly playing ball and I’ve done nothing but cry since I got to the airport. Now please don’t misunderstand me, my kids have been absolutely amazing as have my friends, but this has been a battle. MY BATTLE. And whilst I might not want to moan about it continuously it has taken its toll on me.

I hadn’t actually mentioned this little jaunt to Spain to the clinical staff or the consultant. I just didn’t want to be told I couldn’t go.

I just need some time out to get over what’s happened. On the huge positive I’m a whole stone lighter and feel psychically great. I don’t think I’ve been on holiday feeling slim in years so that’s a huge positive…just better make sure I don’t eat too much whilst I’m away. I’ve packed my trainers and hope to walk 7-8 miles a day. I need the training for the 46-mile trek I’m doing at the end of the month. So I need to do it for that, but it also gives me headspace.

3 June

It’s been a great remedy to clear away all the horror of this. I hadn’t actually mentioned this little jaunt to Spain to the clinical staff or the consultant. I just didn’t want to be told I couldn’t go. I’ve not even bothered finding out if I can get insurance. I mean, what’s the point? I’m sure I’ll be fine and to be honest for four days what could go wrong? Famous last words I hear you say, but thankfully everything was fine.

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The time away was just what I needed, although I spent the first two days crying. Poor Karen, I’m not sure she knew what to do with me. I’d like to blame the FEC but in truth, I think I needed to just get it all out of my system. I’ve realised that my coping strategy is about ploughing through with utter positivity and then when it’s over I have an enormous meltdown. Thinking back, this is how I’ve dealt with virtually every horror story I’ve had to go through. Who cares? It works for me. Healthy or not, it’s the way I’m built and I’m not going to give myself grief for it either. So I’ve cried for two days – so what? Although I should have bought some shares in Kleenex first, I think…

Monday 13th June

So here we are, June 13th and that’s it, chemo done. In my view, the biggest horror is over. Now for the good bits: my brand new boobs and the radiotherapy.

I saw the surgeon last week and we’ve sorted out my new boobs. I can’t tell you how pleased I am about that. Mine currently weigh-in at a large 36F and whilst I do have some beautiful underwear, I’ve had to spend a fortune from specialist shops, so I’ve requested a pair of double Ds. I noticed that you can virtually get anything in a D cup and I’m a bird that likes choices. I was unaware that they do your poorly boob first then after the radiotherapy they wait six months. Apparently, the radiotherapy not only burns your beautiful new boob but it can take six months for it to get back to normal. But you know what? I don’t really care. I’m better off than many women who lose their boobs, so for me I’ve just got to have some patience…another skill I’m embracing.

Sunday 31st July

It’s the 31st July and I’m mindful that I’ve neglected my blog updates for some time. For that, I apologise but I’ve been busy getting on with my life; holidays, trips away going to see my friends, and completing the 46-mile walk. The best bit is that we came 14th place out of 280. Not bad for a cancer-ridden chemotherapied bird!!!

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Treatment Ends. So Much has Changed

I have THE most perfectly formed boob.

A fair few cancer-related things have happened during the last few months. I’ve had an operation which removed what was left of the cancer (praise be the lord) and tomorrow I start radiotherapy. I’ve also been put on tamoxifen tablets which have sent me crazy… or crazier some would say. The tablets have made me suffer from anxiety and a horrific bout of overthinking. I’ve also become very bored now of this whole cancer thing, the procedures and everything, so forgive me.

So let’s start with the operation first. I cannot tell you how utterly delighted I am with the results of my operation. I have THE most perfectly formed boob. They tend to do one at a time so that they can treat it with radio and when it’s settled down they build the other one to match… so a free boob job. RESULT! With boobs, my shape and size, trust me this is a welcome gift. My consultant has been superb, he’s explained everything to me, showed me pictures and really reassured me. He even gave me options of how the scarring could look. His compassion and care has been incredible to the point where I would have argued I was his only patient.

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On the day of the operation, I arrived at the hospital after a mini shopping trip with Clips. I checked in and received delicious menus that I wasn’t able to actually pick from because I wouldn’t be back in time from the operation…mildly irritating. As usual, a collection of nurses arrive and pre-checks were done. I’m off for a scan and to have a wire fitted. I’m not really sure what this means – I’m not stupid but what they explained seems a bit odd to me, but they assured me it would be no worse than the biopsy. They lied. It’s clearly not something they’ve ever had done themselves. It was absolutely hideous and I’m not one to complain. It nearly made me cry, it was that awful. Not so much painful as such just lots of tugging and pulling.

That completed, my consultant drew some pretty black lines over my boob. We had a really good laugh about his dreadful drawings and that was that off – I went to the operating theatre. As the anaesthetist injected the anaesthetic he said: “I’m sorry but this will make your throat sore.” I was a bit confused until I awoke in the recovery room and my next feeling was exactly that. It made me laugh. I’m not lying, it was literally a second later that I woke up and felt my sore throat. The consultant appeared after a few minutes to admire his handiwork and let me have a look. OH MY GOD…a perfectly formed boob! It looks amazing. A perky boob at my age…how fabulous.

Healing has been quick and simple. I’ve been back for a few dressing changes but all in all, nothing to complain about. I’m a bit lopsided but hey the cancer’s gone with good margins (they measure around the cancer to ensure that it’s all completely gone).

Radio therapy attire
My Radiotherapy Attire

The radiotherapy isn’t quite what you think. I think we all have this idea that because cancer is such a scary word that anything that goes with it will either hurt or be a trauma. Well, rest assured, the radio is nothing. Your first consultation is about lining you up correctly so they zap the right bit. They put three little tiny tattoos on you (a bit like X marks the spot). I asked for flowers but apparently, that’s not doable, lol. In order to not zap your heart, they need you to breathe in and hold your breath whilst they do the treatment for a maximum count of 20. It’s fine, it’s no big deal.

The treatment involves you lying on a very hard cold stretcher/bed with your arms raised above your head and placed in rests so that you’re laying prone. It takes about 15 mins from start to finish…it’s a breeze. I did feel a little tired the first week. As the treatment can make you sore I’d been recommended some “magic” cream by one of the consultants that, so far so good, seems to have done the trick and stopped me from burning or suffering from discomfort.

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The radiotherapy is usually at the same time each day and it’s every weekday so there’s not much wriggle room for going away, but don’t worry I managed it. My consultant sent me a text me after the first week to see how I was getting on. He caught me mid-continent on a 2-night cruise to Bruges, which he has never let me forget. He couldn’t believe that I would be well enough to go on a trip away for the weekend.

Cruise to Burge
Cruise to Bruges

I’ve had to have a chat with the consultant, though, about the Tamoxifen. It’s dawning on me that emotionally I just don’t react too well to lots of hormones. Some years ago, I had the depo injection and it sent me crazy, crying all the time about nothing, exploding at the smallest thing. The thyroxin I take for my underactive thyroid gave me the worst anxiety ever. It was so bad I informed the doctor that I wouldn’t be taking it anymore. She said that was fine, but after my thyroid had stopped working and I’d gone into a coma then perhaps I might like to rethink. I did. I take them every day.

Sadly the Tamoxifen have had the same effect – they have sent me crazy. I’ve never been paranoid, nor do I overthink. I guess they’re now two new experiences to add to the list. The consultant explained that four per cent of women suffer from this, so I’m delighted to say I’m one of them and I’ve got to put up with it for 10 years. The Tamoxifen is prescribed to stop you from getting cancer again and the best bit… they bring on early menopause. Although in my case, “early” menopause might be the wrong phrase; I’m 47, not 30. Anyway, apparently, the average age is 52, just so you know. So it seems I have no choice; I have to take them. On the basis that they only drive me crazy during my hormonal week, I’ve decided next month I’m going do battle. I’m not letting a bloody tablet beat me, no chance.

Thursday 25th August

I welcome to you August 25th because today is the last day that I need to lay here on this really cold hard bed with my arms above my head, in stirrups, staring at the balloons and trees they’ve put on the ceiling so we’ve got something to look at as we lie here getting zapped. I feel a bit emosh, to be honest. It has been a long journey, which at times has felt like forever and yet now it all seems to have gone rather quickly. All in all, today has been a big day. My youngest has found out that he’s passed all 9 of his GCSEs and the eldest had a remark of his A levels and with A* and two As he’s off to Leeds Uni to study law. And me, well I’ve come to the end of my cancer journey. Last treatment for me. Yes, I have another operation but that’s merely cosmetic not cancer-related. What an unbelievable 8 months!

So much has changed.