Welcome to the c word

I rarely show the world what is going on inside it is just not my style. I hide pain and constantly worry about worrying other people and how they will feel about how I am feeling. I keep my problems to myself and sometimes even from my closest friends. Well not this time.

I have been on the c word roller-coaster (I'm calling it the c word to go easy on the faint hearted) for over three weeks now and have decided it is a good idea to write down what's happened, happening and going to happen then whoever wants to keep up to date can without being forced to hear about it through emails from me. Because you will all have days where you just can't or don't want to hear about this. I get that it’s ok.

I hope not but you also might meet people or know people who go through something similar and it might just help them in some way to know they are not alone and when they fall apart it is ok because who wouldn’t. When you read this please forgive grammar and spelling etc I have not slept for three days and sorry too if it is up and down that is pretty much how I am doing most days.

- Tuesday 23rd February 2010

Wednesday, 24 March 2010

The worst patient ever

I am not very good at this don't lift things malarkey. I am so full of pain killers that I forget and go to lift things that I shouldn't especially when Phil is not looking. Must stop and rest. I am very sore but come on someone sliced open my boob and armpit. I know exactly when four hours is up without looking at the clock because that sharp stabbing pains are pretty assertive. I am wrapped in dressings and terrified of what is beneath them but luckily I am forbidden to look so that is fine with me aside the discomfort of feeling bound in. Sleeping is tricky but I reckon I will heal fast and be on my front again soon. 

Yesterday was fine as an operation can be I reckon, it's hardly going to become one of my favourite activities but certainly was not as bad as I had imagined it could have been. I went in to the ward at 7.30am and was so super lucky that I went down to the sparkling clean 2 month old operating theatre at 8.30am, I was first. This I cannot state with enough emotion and conviction was amazingly fantastic. I was however somehow the last to leave! Hmm nervous moments well my heart nearly stopped when they said you are first even though I was so glad it was a shock but so much better than another poor lady who was begging to drink water after 7 hours of waiting. Next thing I know they are panicking me about me having a temperature of 37.6 because anaesthetic can cause big problems if you have any possibility of an infection like a chest infection or cough. You apparently start to splutter and cough on the operating table very dangerous and difficult to deal with so cheers anaesthetist for totally freaking me out but I get that he needed me to understand the severity. I have been around Isaac with a cough for weeks and Phil has one and Reuben a cold so I was really worried about that for a moment or two. But I can't have been that worried because I went for it anyway and said I want to go through it, no opting out. I figured they would have cancelled me if it was that risky. I get walked down to the theatre say goodbye to Phil and who can't remember the way back and gets directions from the nurse (we had only come down one floor bless him). I meet the anaesthetists colleagues who were SO SO SO seriously amazing. These people don't actually have to be so exceptionally gentle and kind it is not an official demand of competency for the job but they were so comforting including the chap who held my foot and smiled with the 'you are in the best hands possible' whisper just as I pass out. Awake again with a Jamaican lady who was totally hilarious as she bitched about how long the slow as snails surgeons take to do their jobs. My operation was an hour longer than it was supposed to be but that is ok it was probably the research trial thing they did using a super tiny camera that extended the surgery. Super amounts of pain killers and I am off back up to Phil about midday and he says 'so where have you been lady?' He won't describe it but I have no doubt there was a lot of worry going through his brain as he said goodbye to me at 8.30am and expected me to be under for 1 hour to 1 1/2 hour and I don't come for 3 1/2 hours instead.

I didn't get to speak to my surgeon for any news he was busy doing a lot of operations that day but I obviously know that the glands were clear with the tests they did during the surgery so that is 3 wins for that particular issue. The big huge one is now I wait and wait for the results to be run through many pathology tests and they will come back to the team who plan what they recommend for treatment and I find out on 1st April, no joke.
I am not so worried right now but for sure as it gets closer and especially on the day I may be pretty stressed out who wouldn't be. So to run over it again If they find cancer cells speckled in the tissue round the tumour they removed then more surgery to remove more breast tissue and then chemotherapy then radiotherapy. If they also find more cancer cells in the glands after further testing, this is apparently quite common, then it will be more surgery and chemo and radio. If they don't find anything anywhere whoop whoop then I reckon radiotherapy and hormone therapy (which is pills every day for 5 years) is on the cards and although to most people no one would opt for this shit I would take this option, safely of course, in a heartbeat compared with the other two. So all I can say is fingers and toes firmly crossed for the results to come back clear. I am hanging all my hopes on this being the case I won't deny it. 

This morning I woke at 1am, 2am, 3am, 5am, I cannot stop weeing after all the water I drank. But the sleep in between feels more restful and although I am sore I am feeling pretty perky today. I got a train home after it took all morning to get dressed and laugh off the hair style Phil created for me when I couldn't reach my arm up to put my hair up properly. If 80's side high very bumpy ponytails are in right now then I was the coolest person in London this morning thank you personal stylist Lazarou.me. He has been fantastic and entertaining and so very very sweet. Monty was so pleased to see us bless him, he was not so keen on my mum and her friend coming to clean the house for me. It was so very kind of my mum and Debbie to get everything sorted and so thoroughly, bless them. Mum claims it was to distract her from worrying but I doubt it worked. My dad took stuff to the tip and sorted handyman style domestic chores we never get time to do. I keep hearing oh my god from rooms round the house as Phil finds more tidied areas like a sparkling cooker that has probably never been cleaned and would have taken almost the whole two days we were away. Endless thanks are due. 

Still all is well now I am all comfy in my new blanket mum bought and looking at my pretty flowers from Phil's mum Pippa and his step dad Robin and the nicest present from Rachel so sweet and lovely and perfect for me. I am totally chuffed to be back with Monty, who just attacked Phil's arm in protest for us ever abandoning him again.

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