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Sunday was a very rough day. I woke up feeling incredibly fragile and completely overwhelmed with the enormity of having cancer.

That seems strange doesn't it...feeling that way after the worst of the treatment is over.

I grieved the loss of my right breast and the future loss of the left. Not just for myself, but for my husband. He loved my boobs and always had his hands on them but can't bring himself to touch my reconstructed breast. It doesn't feel real or nice to either of us, just plastic, hard and unrelenting to the touch. Perhaps in time we'll adjust to my reconstructed self as the implants settle into my body...I hope so, I miss his hands on that part of me.

I felt so angry and resentful that the Tamoxifen has caused such rapid weight gain. At 72kgs, I've never been so heavy or uncomfortable with my weight before and despite a healthy diet and exercise I'm getting bigger. I feel trapped between not taking Tamoxifen (therefore increasing the risk of cancer returning), and taking it for the next ten years with the constant battle of keeping obesity at bay. A self pitying voice kept whining in my head that I'd been through so much already without this insult to injury. Losing so much of my feminity already not enough for you Universe...sure...smack down what's left why don't you!!!

I didn't want to go out in public because I loathed the way I looked with such short hair. It felt like it was going to take a tortuously long time for my hair to grow to the length I'm comfortable with. I just wanted to look and feel like myself again, instead of looking like a cancer patient...or a truckie.

I was in such low spirits that the insidious fear of cancer showing up elsewhere in my body made me feel panicky and anxious. Most of the time I forget, or choose not to think, about the fact that cancer could come back in more treacherous forms, and next time I might not be so lucky. On Sunday the thought of leaving my boys behind was suffocating.

And on top of all that I was exhausted. So physically and emotionally spent that I went to bed just after lunch and didn't wake up until 5pm.

 

I really struggled with all those monstrous feelings on Sunday because I KNOW just how lucky I am. I am grateful that we've caught the cancer early and I have a pretty positive prognosis. I am grateful for a good medical team, the support and encouragement of family & friends and the immense kindness of strangers. I feel so lucky...I have a husband who loves me and two beautiful little boys to nurture. I am recovering well and have so much to live for. All the annoyances and challenges that lie ahead can be dealt with, if I face it with a kickass attitude. Don't let the bastards get me down right!

I'm fine now. Monday dawned bright, the weight of those emotions lifted and its been a wonderful week. My beautiful boys have made my heart sing.

I have loved watching them play together with their Daddy's old matchbox cars and a makeshift ramp on the back deck.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Loved listening to their infectious giggles as they bounced like lunatics on the trampoline and raced bikes up and down the path. And I loved watching them sitting on the back step together after dinner, eating their frozen yoghurt pops for dessert.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I guess there are bound to be days when it all feels too much. I'm just glad that that those days are few and far between.

 

 

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A sneak peek in the rearview

It has been pretty rare during this cancer journey when I've longed for the old me...and by that I mean my pre-cancer body.

I think that my attitude towards life and myself in general have improved since cancer came on the scene. My priorities have taken a shift, I'm kinder to myself and take a lot less for granted. I've adjusted to my situation and am making the best of it. But there are the odd days when I pine for my missing breast, for hair on my head and skin that isn't numb, painful or worn.

Today...I long to run my fingers through hair that is no longer there.

The picture above was taken just a few years ago when Harry was about ten months old. It reminds me of a time when I was completely and utterly comfortable with being me. I loved my body with its beautiful breastfeeding boobs. I was fit, healthy, happy and whole.

I can't deny that today I really miss that version of me.

My aim is to achieve fit, healthy, happy and whole with my 'new post cancer' body. And the only avenue that I can see getting me there is my attitude. I think I'll need to look at old photos like these with fondness but look at new photos of me with pride. My battle scars show how hard I've fought to hang on to life. I can only see that as a beautiful thing.

 

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Five down

Hello World...again.

I can safely say that chemo #5 kicked my ass...again.

It's been a rough round and I'm finding it harder to bounce back this time. Two weeks ago I was bursting with positivity and can-do attitude but two days before chemo I began to struggle with extreme anxiety. Just the thought of chemo made me gag and it took immense self control not to cry every five minutes. I don't know, perhaps it's normal to get worn down at this stage of the treatment. Anyway, the anxiety resolved itself the day of chemo, I went into my cocoon for four days of hell and resurfaced to face the world very frail and tired. Really need to push past the exhaustion and focus on being positive again...hate feeling this way.

I managed to drag myself off the couch this morning and take the boys down the road to a little playground. It was worth the effort...the boys needed a big hit of fresh air and sunshine. It was a very cold, wet and dull weekend for them both.

One more to go...just one more to go!

 

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So far so good....bahaahaahaa!

Chemo has a sneaky way of lulling you into a false sense of security. Just when you think you're in the clear, it ambushes you from several other angles and BAM, you find yourself in a heap on the floor again.

Hello delayed reaction!!!

For the first couple of days post chemo #4 I felt ok, nauseous but so much better than the previous rounds. The last five days have been rough. Manageable but rough. Bone pain, nausea, hot flushes, dizziness, fatigue, reflux and insomnia have made for an utterly exhausting combination. There have been more than a few times over the last couple of days when I have felt completely overwhelmed...those 'serious to god is this really happening to me?' moments. I've struggled to keep up with the boys and yet somehow, and I'm not sure how, we've managed to get to the end of each day still intact and fairly happy.

I honestly don't know how other people survive more than six rounds of chemo. I'm not sure I could endure it. Those pockets of feeling normal between rounds are so precious. Just two more to go, just two more.

Anyway, enough whining.

 

On a brighter note...Autumn Harvest.

I have a bench full of gorgeous homegrown produce that needs to be turned into Quince Jam, Cumquat Marmalade, Beetroot & Apple Relish, Green Tomato Relish & Red Chilli Jam over the next couple of days. It's the perfect weather for preserving. Lets hope my body is up to it! Wish me luck!

 

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Goodbye drain, you've served me well.

Here I was, sitting on my bed, blogging and feeling blue when Nurse Jane popped her head in and brightened up my day with the news that my wretched drain could be removed, (golly I sound ungrateful, I really do appreciate just what a great job you've done little drain, really I do!).

Hubby was on hand to take some happy snaps of the procedure. Please note that for some the following pictures may be a bit too graphic to handle. Proceed at your own risk!

 

Just a quick slice of some stitches...

A little tug & a cough times three...

...and pull...

Voila...

Jane removed the dressing across my breast and put a new one over the site of the drain to soak up the little bit of liquid that will continue leaking out over the next 24hrs. After that the fluid will start to dissipate and re-absorb into my body. It feels really good to be free of the tube. Hurrah! Thanks Nurse Jane!!!

p.s. Is it just me or does anyone else find it just a little hilarious how my 'new' boob stands to attention when I'm lying down. It really does look ridiculous compared to my other 'real' boob on the left which naturally flattens out a bit with gravity.

 

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Babies blissed out on booby juice

I breastfed Harry for 14 months and it was a truly blissful experience. I would spend entire feeds just gazing at my tiny son, in awe that he was mine. I adored it when he became milk drunk at the end of each feed, a contented smile turning up the corners of his beautiful little mouth.

I had a slightly less blissful experience with the Jackman. He latched on the moment he was placed on my chest and it was beautiful. By week two I noticed that he was struggling to attach properly. A quick procedure fixed his tongue tie and feeding was fab for four months. Then the mastitis kicked in... seven bouts of it to be exact. Seven bouts over six months. I probably should have switched him to the bottle much earlier than I did. I probably shouldn't have battled on for as long as I did but the perfectionist in me didn't want to give up. He was my last baby and although I'd had enough of 'ow, bloody ow' mastitis, I was reluctant to cut that breastfeeding bond. In the end Jack self weaned at 10 months anyway...and that was that.

 

 

Still...I am proud that I nourished my two boys, I am proud of my body for its abundant supply of super booby juice which fattened them up in their first year. I am immensely grateful for the bond it created between my babies and I. I am so thankful that I got to breastfeed my kids before the Big C arrived.

 

 

Aren't our bodies amazing! Isn't it incredible that we can create human beings and nourish their gorgeous little bodies with our own!

 

 

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On the road to recovery - at home.

The first week at home was spent drugged to the eyeballs with painkillers and sleeping approximately twenty hours each day. I was able to keep upright long enough to do my physio, take a shower, have a small bite to eat and say hi to the kids before falling back into bed. Every second day I had to go up to our local hospital and have my drain changed and my dressing checked by the community health nurses.

It took a week to eventually get my pain under control. A quick trip to the GP and a new type of painkiller helped me to cope better. There are several types of pain that I've been dealing with. The first is the tenderness of the breast itself and the site of the drain, which is a constant dull ache. The second is the burning, throbbing pain around the ribs, like someone is trying to pry them apart with a crowbar. The third is the sharp hot pain in the armpit whenever the arm moves and the fourth is the feeling of stinging nettles being swiped across the arm, shoulder and upper back at random intervals as the nerves start coming back to life. I naturally have a fairly high pain threshold so I was able to adjust to the discomfort but the aim as I later found out is to manage the pain so as to NOT feel it at all. One of the community health nurses finally explained to me what I needed to be doing in order to achieve that. If only the hospital had given me that advice upon being discharged. It is the one thing I've found frustrating...the lack of continuity. So many different health professionals and so much conflicting advice or gaps in helpful information.

I finally managed to snavel a home visit from a great Community Health nurse last Friday. Jane is a fabulously funny, no nonsense woman with a surgical background and 40 years of experience. I am lucky to now have her look after me for the duration of my treatment, including weekly contact during chemo and radiotherapy. It was great timing too. My nipple began bleeding on Thursday so it gave me peace of mind to have it looked at. She changed my dressing, adjusted my drain so that it didn't pull and said that it looked like a small infection was forming and I should go to the hospital if it got worse.

On Saturday I woke up feeling like I'd been hit with the flu. I went into town with Mum and stocked up at the chemist while she did the grocery shopping and by the time we got home an hour later I was feeling very average. Before long I was throwing up and unable to keep painkillers or fluids down. Hubby took me to our local ER and they popped me on a drip of antibiotics and gave me a wafer of Zofran which was enough to calm the nausea and get me back on track. The infection and the cocktail of painkillers and antibiotics were knocking my body around and I needed an anti-nausea drug. For anyone who hasn't started treatment yet...ask for a script for anti-nausea drugs just in case you need it. I burst into tears in the ER, it was just too much to cope with. I felt broken and weak and exhausted and just wanted it all to ease up. The staff were great and very understanding. The doctor sent me home with another script for more antibiotics to clear up the infection in my breast and a stash of maxalon and zofran to ward off further nausea. My body has settled down and I've slept the rest of the weekend away.

I decided when I started this blog that it would be a no holds barred account of my journey and as such I've started taking photos of my body so that others can get a better idea of what it is like to go through this type of treatment.

This is me, eleven days after surgery, with the drain still in and the dressings still on.

Above is the drain that collects the fluid (blood etc) that naturally occurs at the site of the wound after surgery. It gradually reduces from about 100ml a day to about 15mls a day. After a couple of weeks the drain can be removed and the body re-absorbs the small amount of fluid left. I carry the drain in a little cotton bag that I'd whipped up on the sewing machine before I went in for surgery. It has to be worn 24/7 so a good tip is to make two or three if you can. Another good tip...REMEMBER that you're wearing it! I can't tell you how many times I've hung my bag over the back of a chair and then gotten up and walked off only to be snagged by the line. Entertaining for any onlookers, somewhat embarrassing to the snagee!

I have my post surgical check up on Tuesday. Hopefully the drain will come out and the news will be good reguarding the pathology report. I'm also hoping against hope that the infection in my breast will be under control by then and I won't have to face losing the implant. It's a possibility and if it does happen it will only be a setback. I will get there in the end!

To finish off this post I wanted to share this incredibly inspiring clip. A dear friend shared it with me and I wanted to inspire others. No matter what our bodies look like during and after breast cancer treatment...we are beautiful!!!

'The Light That Shines' a story for all from InBedWithSue.com on Vimeo.

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