Category Archives: Breast Cancer

No Way Back?

“It’s great to see you looking so well. How are you feeling?” they ask.

”Och I’m grand. Getting there,” I reply.

Getting where though?

Back to the old me?

No, I can never be that person again. There is no going back.

I can’t unknow this last nine months and ever think again that I won’t “break”, just like any other human being on this planet. Every molecule of my brain rejects the sense of weakness, of vulnerability, that I feel now, but my body won’t (or can’t) follow.

And so I am adrift, looking back at my life before cancer like some far off shore, forever out of reach.

I can’t see my new direction yet and I’m not even sure I can be assed to look. So I will find some peace in the here and now, like a spectator on my own life.

Perhaps in this space and quiet I can begin to find my new path, my new me.

Who Am I?

I don’t know the answer to this one anymore.

After 50+ years on this planet, and much self-analysis, I thought I had a fair enough idea, but then life threw me a curve ball. I got sick! Breast cancer to be precise.

I went through the treatment, and coped. In fact I coped fairly well, considering; considering it is pretty brutal.

But somewhere in all of this I got lost again, and the guilt of feeling bad after surviving an illness that kills way too many people is desperate.

During treatment I imagined how nothing would ever stand in my way again, nothing would prevent me from achieving great things.

And yet here I sit, accepting my self-imposed limitations on everything.

Misery beckons.

So I talk. And then I talk some more. And in the midst of all this talking I glean snippets of the “how” and the “when” of recovery, and with a lot of effort I am hoping this will lead me back to the “WHO” of who I am.

Surviving is dammed hard.

Who knew?

Guilty As Charged…

Of time-wasting on an industrial scale!! I could faff for a living right now, expertly!

I laugh when I think about all those days I was rushing out the door to an appointment or hurrying to finish the washing/ironing before Sunday evening, those days where I promised myself a day of sitting on my bum and reading a great book through from start to finish, or spending an entire day sorting through my clothes, make-up, shoes etc.

Now I have the time…..loads of it, with a limited range of physical jobs I can do, so perfectly suited to my dream days above. So, can I finish a page, be arsed to even open the wardrobe?? Not a mission!!

I can wash two or three cups, swipe at the work tops with some disinfectant, gaze guiltily at the ironing and polish half the coffee table before I think the boredom is going to choke me. Memories of kids on wet, summer afternoons, with their noses pressed against the windows and bedrooms full of toys, moaning loudly, ” I’m bored! There’s nothing to do,” come rushing back and it evokes the same reaction.

“Nothing to do!! Look around you, look at all the things you have to be thankful for! Bored indeed.”

Guilty as charged. 😏

What’s In A Name??

I believe you can find humour in any area or event in life and my cancer journey has    been no exception.

My husband and I were discussing the surgical procedure with the consultant when he mentions that I will have a dye injected prior to surgery that will colour not just my boob area, but the rest of my body as well, blue for an amount of time.

“Ha,” laughed my husband, “Papa Smurf.”

I shot him a look ( one of those husband/wife looks) as the surgeon continued in a sober fashion.

“Well it will have the effect of making your wife look a bit “corpse-like”.”

I looked back to my husband with a new-found respect. I think I’ll take Papa Smurf on this occasion.

“Corpse-like!!!”

So the day of surgery came. We walked on past the newly built, state of the art building where I will go for chemo and radiotherapy. I glance over at the beautiful bronze statue of Florence Nightingale in front of the door and then up at the building’s name.

“Cancer Unit”, writ large!

Not even a “The.”

Had they run out of funds or was the Minister in charge of naming buildings off that day!

I shudder and walk on. A lovely nurse greeted me and cheerily gave me my programme for the morning.

“Now, you will first go to Mamo and then round to Nuclear.”

Nuclear??

Turns out to be Nuclear Medicine. I think the Naming Minister was off that day too.

About 30 seconds after being deposited in the waiting room another lovely nurse comes to collect me. They must have thought I would run away and they mightn’t have been too far off the mark!

“I have to ask you, for legal reasons, are you pregnant?”

I laugh……heartily. “No.”

Lovely Nurse then gowns up and dons a pair of gloves before injecting this obviously hazardous material into my right tit!!

Because of various taping and markers I am not allowed to get “fully” dressed ( no bra) before me and two-hung-low walk back, through the hospital, to my ward.

Cheery Nurse is bustling about the ward when I get back and I ask her if she finds a sudden increase in the patients need of Valium, post Nuclear visit.

Oh, how she laughs!!

 

 

Being Afraid

I am just thinking back to a much earlier blog where I discussed being your own “best friend” because, right now, I would tell my best friend, my loved one, in my situation, “It’s okay to be afraid.”

I am.

I’m not afraid of dying ( I don’t think that’s my path at this time), but of living with the next bit of the journey; chemo……and the rest.

I cry for a bit, feel crap for a bit,  and then remember my amazing family and friends and how much they believe in me and how blessed I am to have them.

I can choose to lie down under this and let it beat me or face it head on, doing the best I can to follow the guidelines and advice and come out the other side, stronger than before; like thousands and thousands of people are doing every day.

So, I have pulled on my big girl pants I’m back in the ring!!