This too shall pass

We are back to normal transmission.

I have deleted the post that was ruminating on topics that don't deserve oxygen. 

Last week was crammed with more doctors than the complimentary bar at a pharmaceutical conference! With my oncologist's support I am giving Tamoxifen a rest. It may not be the culprit but it is definitely a contributing factor to my low mood.

I'm backing away from business commitments that I've rushed into before I'm healthy enough to handle the toll work takes. I'm trying to be kind to myself and not let guilt weigh me down.

Yesterday (Sunday) Youngest KAT and I made a special trip to the Mall to buy some touchstones. She chose one for each of us and a bag to put them in. They will go with her to school and be there when she's feeling sad. They will remind her that I'm always with her. Thank you to my gorgeous friend Kate for suggesting this. The idea was a winner and lit up both our eyes! 

I love my family more than words can say. Words cannot describe how I want to walk the same path as them. I want to see them laugh and cry, run and stumble along life's path. I described it as a parallel path but I've realized that we are on the same path, it's just a bit rocky right now.

Seeing my KATs emerging into the young women they are destined to be is why I endured my awful treatment. Because I love them and I want to be around. More than anything. A bit of life ache isn't going to stand in my way.

I'm still here!

I know I've been MIA! Sorry. Sorry. Sorry!

My mother pointed out to me this week that I haven't updated my blog of late. No excuse really. Just simply a feeling that I can't quite overcome that anything I say here is a bit redundant.

It's hard to explain but it's got something to do with a pervasive feeling that I've got nothing much left to say here....I'm alive. I'm on the road to recovery. I don't feel great but I don't want to be a whiner!!

Emerging from the other side of my treatment has been and continues to be a challenge. The world and my place in it is different. I just haven't worked out how to work with that "different".

I'm feeling much healthier. My wounds are healing - the physical and the mental ones. My KAT's are also recovering. Less fragile and more secure. Saint Mike is also starting to relax!  

I smile broadly and my smile is genuine. I am happy to be alive.

If I'm absent for a while longer forgive me. If you aren't related to me and still check in here I thank you for your interest! 

The swing of things

 

I'm five weeks post-surgery today. This is a good thing as Oprah would say.

My recovery is coming along swimmingly. I seem to be text-book compliant in terms of my physical state. Pain reducing but not altogether fantastic. I keep it at bay during daylight hours using Panadol Osteo but as the afternoon progresses it all seems to catch up on me and I'm scoffing codeine before bed to ensure my sleep is undisturbed.

To distract myself I've been undertaking some "recovery-friendly" creative pursuits. My little Portulaca friend is an example of the sort of gardening I can manage.

This little beauty was inspired by something on Pinterest where they utilised Grape Vines....not living in or near a vineyard meant I resorted to stripping some vines off our Star Jasmine outside the back door....a ball I found in the garden was used as my base and whilst watching a bit of trashy "Real Housewives of Melbourne" (God save me now) I wound and tied and wound and tied until I had this rustic work of art! I've attached a string of solar powered fairy lights but I'm not loving the effect....stay tuned, I have my thinking cap on and it will be finessed!

 

Prior to the BC diagnosis I was in the process of launching a new business. It's clearly not happened but I've had loads of time to develop my business plan and I'm now in the early stages of getting it off the ground. Watch this space!

 

I'm still doing my best to spend at least a little while each day here. Some days are harder than others to put my feet up.

Oh and we had a wedding anniversary to celebrate on Saturday. Seventeen years! Can you believe it!! As you can see, age doesn't weary the silliness of Saint Mike:)

That's pretty much all I have to report. Note the distinct lack of talk re my mental state? Did I mention my physical recovery is going well? We won't discuss my fragile mental state. It's all good, time is a great healer as they say.

Our word for 2014

This is our word for 2014. It's applies to all of us in some way or another. 

For me it describes what's been required since the dreaded "C" word was first uttered six months ago. Craptastic chemo took so much out of me that I am still trying to restock but in reality it feels like I'm in the eye of the storm as my surgery is being planned and I know that will take its own toll on my already ravaged body.

We often use the word resilience in our family. It's an important trait that we want the KATs to develop (and they are). But I also love the word Grit because it feels more "active" to me....being resilient can sometimes seems a bit reactive...this situation or this person is being shitty and I need to bounce back etcetera etcetera. Grit on the other hand is about not just bouncing back but getting stronger as a result.

Active versus passive. Does that make sense?

A sting in the tail

So no sooner had I logged my Christmas Day post than the fist of two ill-fitting shoes fell.

First I got the news on Boxing Day that my Neutrophils (a type of white blood cell) were at an all-time low and this would explain my particularly low energy levels.

 In actual fact I had awoken on Boxing Day feeling like I had the worst hangover in history and yet I was quite certain that no alcohol had passed my lips. Unless some nurse overimbued with festive spirit had tipped some into my canula it was not a hangover making me feel so craptastic!

As the day wore on the second shoe dropped. My blood pressure proceeded to dive and by the evening it was clear that my low neutrophils had make me easy pickings for an infection. Cue nasty chest cough. 

 I spent Friday morning huddled under multiple thin hospital blankets. Blood tests confirmed my white blood cells were continuing their descent and my blood pressure was giving a convincing impression that my heart was anywhere but beating enthusiastically in my chest cavity. Oh and the cough was worse.

Just after lunch the nurse appeared to check my "obs" and calmly squeezed my forearm before preparing me for what was to come next. It was time to call in the cavalry. Cue the ICU doctor.

What ensued over the next 12 hours will be forever etched in my mind. I didn't have the benefit of being unconscious so the only part that isn't imprinted on my brain is the view of the corridor, lift and the general ICU area as they wheeled me there. For some reason I had my eyes closed. Oh that would probably be because I was in such a weakened state I could barely keep my eyes open so squeezing them shut was far less taxing.

It wasn't until 48 hrs later that I worked out that the entire ICU wasn't made up of individual rooms full of medical equipment and state of the art monitors....and a bathroom of my own. Why my view out the door was of a storage shelf and the doctors and nurses had what looked like a card table set up in my doorway. 

Hmmnnn that would be because I was in the isolation room! One of only two such rooms in ICU. They had to be perched right outside my room because the nurses station was 20 metres away and I was requiring constant attention!

Just a tip. If you do happen to have the misfortune of ending up in ICU pray you are unconscious. Putting in an arterial line fricking hurts. Like buggery!!!! What is an arterial line you ask? It's a nasty long needle about 10cm long that needs to inserted into your radial artery at your wrist. Yes very unpleasant! Requires sutures to keep it in that were bloody painful in the meaty part of my palm for the time it was in. Thankfully I was pretty drugged up so this wasn't a big issue. Getting them removed was a different matter!

Attached to an arterial line (helps them accurately monitor your vitals) and with sticky bits all over my chest for other measurements I looked like Pinocchio.

Sorry for the pathetic photo...this was taken when the emergency had passed (24hrs in) and I was able to smile despite how truly horrid the situation had become.

Preceding this shot was the initial hours of desperately low blood pressure where they were pumping me full of fluid and seeing if my BP would rise and if my kidneys were going to keep functioning. They also got me onto antibiotics quick smart and the middle of the night heralded the arrival of my long lost friend N.A.U.S.E.A. with her close friend Vomiting! My lovely ICU nurse assured me that these two were welcome party arrivals as it was "all sputum....no stomach acids" which was apparently! Mind you it didn't feel so great to me to be covered in vomit and wires and it occurring to me that this might actually be what it feels like before you die.

ICU is a stripped back environment and there was nothing soft-focus about it. Lying in the half-light of monitors that are actually attached to you and reflecting my real precarious state and not some sound effect on a TV drama was distressing it say the least.

Fast forward it the following day and whilst my white blood cells were refusing the advice to surface, Agent-Orange like antibiotics had held infection at bay and with the amount of fluids they'd pumped into me I could have served as a tug boat for the Titanic!!!

It took another day before I was shipped back to my room on the ward and it took 13 long days before I was able to make my escape from the hospital.

This is my selfie when I got the news that my Neutrophils had passed the no-go zone

Just over an hour later my break-out crew arrived to extricate me from the clutches of the ward

Home. Happy. Healthy (as healthy as I can be at this juncture!).

With my family and very grateful to be here despite the sting in craptastic chemo's tail!

The top photo is the lovely nurse who saw me off to ICU and serendipitously was my discharge nurse today! What a lovely coincidence. So very nice to have her there to see me go home smiling.

New Year's Day for 2014 for us is officially today- Jan 3. Bring on 2014!!!!!

There's no good cancer

I called into a talk back radio show today. Couldn't help myself. Haven't ever been backward in coming forward and not going to start now.

The topic was related to the disproportionate attention (and resources) that Breast Cancer gets relative to other cancers and the community perception that it is the "biggest" cancer for women.

As I was waiting on hold to make my point I listened to the various callers and a very articulate man from the Australian Cancer Council who dispelled some "myths" (for example lung cancer is actually the biggest "killer" of women). 

A lady called in and referred to breast cancer as the "sexy" cancer. The announcer (who I love) asked her in what sense she meant sexy. Quite rightly she talked about the fact that from a marketers perspective boobs are sexy.

I was really surprised by the emotion that the use of the word sexy stirred in me. I was almost teary contemplating the dichotomy of sexiness and the realities of breast cancer. The two should never be used in the same sentence and I felt compelled to make that point strongly.

When I did get to speak (which in itself was an honour as I can imagine there were a huge number of calls on the "board") I managed to make the following points quite succinctly (for me a waffler from way back):

1. All cancers and in fact all diseases that affect families the way we have been affected suck.

2. It would be fantastic if all the other forms of cancer could be elevated to the degree of public awareness, support, charitable contribution and therefore research and services that Breast Cancer has because then everyone who gets this terrible diagnosis would benefit equally.

Then I made my final point. The one where I said that using sexy in the same sentence as Breast Cancer makes me want to cry. Sexy is the last thing I feel and the Pink October marketing of perfect boobs when that is far from what women are left with post-breast cancer treatment is very distressing to me.

The truth of it is that my boob is a mangled mess and I try not to look at it. I certainly don't touch it and the fact that Saint Mike and I jokingly refer to this as our "year without sex" isn't just due to chemo nausea. 

My hormones have packed up their wagon and decamped. I am experiencing th joys (plural) of the hot flush multiple times a day. If I'm not feeling like puking I'm a cranky cow likely to bite my husbands head off! His saintly status is not just being enhanced by his patience with the treatment but also with the repurcussions it's had for our interactions.

I've always had a fairly amiable relationship with my boobs. Now that they're on a countdown to oblivion I feel like it's only a matter of time before I give this tangible loss the air time it deserves. But I can't focus on it now. Out with the old and in the new will happen in late Feb/early March but in the meantime I've got to focus on what's immediately in front of me and unfortunately that's a bucket! 

Sorry if this is a tad depressing. Felt like putting on the record these particular emotions. One day my girls will read this blog and I want them to get a nuanced perspective:) 

Halloween

Things have been subdued over here in KATcapers land. Despite my best intentions my blogging continues to be sporadic.

Craptastic chemo was never going to be a beer and skittles affair. I knew that. I just hoped that I would get cut a few breaks when it came to side effects. Unfortunately each cycle thus far has featured its own drama. 

Whilst my first visit to hospital was a fairly calm affair, my subsequent trip to the emergency room last week was less slightly more dramatic in that I was dehydrated and losing bodily fluids from both ends! Craptastic chemo is not only causing me kt have severe nausea but is also messing with my bowels something nasty!

It was distressing for all of us but I have been particularly concerned about the impact on the girls when I have to be rushed off to hospital. 

I seem to have one week out of three now where I'm relatively energetic (to a point) and so I am trying to busy myself with crafty pursuits to take my mind off the fact that I have an appointment with a canula every three weeks that I would prefer to skip!

Exhibit A is the above image - fabric covered canvas for a teacher at school who has a new grandchild. 

Exhibit B was another fabric covered canvas made for another lady at school....as you can tell my innovation with a fabric covered canvas is a bottomless pit!

 

I also managed to finish three shelves that I'd picked up from council cleanup - wallpaper found on Etsy and a few sample pots did the trick. My skills with a drill and a spirit level still need some work but I'm happy with the result.

Next chemo is November 8th and my oncologist has arranged for me to check into hospital on day 4 post-chemo to be attached to a drip and fed anti-nausea drugs and fluids to help me ride out what seems determined to be the week from hell each cycle. Hopefully this will be a calm and controlled process that we can ensure doesn't traumatise the girls and keeps me relatively healthy.

Halloween decorations will be the topic of my next post...even craptastic chemo can't subdue the frustrated event planner in me and I decorated up a storm...before collapsing in bed and missing the afternoons proceedings:)

Lull in communication

Apologies about my sudden radio silence. Round two of craptastic chemo didn't follow the anticipated gradient (upwards) and instead I seemed to lurch from one day to the next feeling nauseous and lacking in anything that could be described as energetic.

It culminated in an overnight stay in hospital to have some fluids put in and some checks done to make sure there were no underlying issues with my bowel....it had decided to hog some of the limelight and was behaving rather badly! On strike and seemingly immune to whatever went in there to try to wake it up...and then suddenly deciding to have a hissy fit and make me seriously want to die due to the painful cramping and nasty business emanating from my nether regions.

I have tried to adopt a more relaxed routine in an attempt to cooperate with my lovely oncologist so I took to teaching myself how to crochet with zpagetti. If you're unfamiliar with this phenomenon you should check it out! My friend who suggested it reminds me that it's perfect for a more "free form" expression....which translates to "missed stitches...who cares!!!".

It was frustrating and it took quite a few attempts before I mastered the stitches...I'm doing a cheats version of the magic circle (crochet speak). My first attempt was this....

It was supposed to be a vessel but it started to look like a bottle cover so in the end I decided just to let it be:)

The next attempt was much improved and is now sitting proudly where I can admire it regularly! I am just loving playing with the zpagetti colours (trying to contain how many colours I succumb to) and have been practising stars and flowers...even made a garland for my beautiful friend who introduced me to this therapy.

So that was a great way of distracting you from how crappy I am feeling! Craptastic chemo round 3 was last Friday and I'm going to try and spend the day in bed giving my body the rest it needs.

Yes there was the happy chemo face on show....all I can do is keep smiling when I can and not focus too much on how much the after affects crush my spirit. 

Round 3 of 7 done....in another week we will hit the half way mark. That's something to look forward to:)

Revealing the noggin

So here we have it. The noggin reveal. Despite the nausea that accompanied the weekend post-chemo I had decided that I wasn't going to delay the inevitable. My rapidly thinning hair needed to be put out of its misery.

On Saturday Saint Mike was charged with procuring a set of clippers when he took the girls out to the local shopping centre for a movie. On Sunday morning it was me who unpacked them and plugged them into their charger. Like most mere men, task completion can be the undoing of my husband.

The cape is a child-sized version acquired as a visual prop to enforce the "hair must be tied up or cut" rule which Youngest KAT was resisting some months back. It has sat unopened as have the scissors purchased at the same time...who said dire threats don't work?

We all congregated on the back lawn as I thought it a good idea to avoid sweeping up. However when Sally (the dog) started picking up chunks of hair it became a mad scramble for the girls to collect all the "bits" less we poison the dog with my chemo-laden hair. Quite the comedy act with peals of laughter no less.

Saint Mike seemed to take a perverse pleasure in his role as wielder of the clippers. A running commentary was given by the KATs regarding how daddy was giving mummy a Mohawk...then it became a tuft of hair which he insisted would be a good look.

Perhaps it was the flurry of activity (a confused dog chasing your hair around the lawn with three children in hot pursuit) but I didn't feel distressed. I was self conscious and felt immediately unattractive (note to self - black plastic cape isn't flattering) and I regretted that I had not stage managed this a bit better. Nausea will do that I suppose.

I felt strongly that we should do it as a family. I could have gone to the hairdressers and revealed my baldness to the KATs post-clip but having experienced their differing reactions to my pre-chemo chop I felt that immersing them in the process was for the best. Thankfully it worked.

Each of them reacted in their own way. Oldest KAT exhibited typical teen repulsion (yuck factor) but she is also painfully self-aware of how I appear now to the world and she was immediately worried for me.

Middle KAT was predictably reticent to say anything lest she reveal either her own anguish that I am suffering from this disease at all or that she might hurt my feelings by saying something "wrong". Wry smiles and gentle caresses were the order of the day.

Youngest KAT was tentative...it was the tactile that was front of mind for her....how will it "feel" when she touches it. Prickly is the answer!

This image captures the thoughts and feelings that were fluttering down around us. As someone said on my Facebook page - I am cherished and surrounded by love.

I'm now into my fourth day as a bald eagle and my next post will reflect on how it feels to face the world with my remarkably smooth billiard cue.

I'd rather be here

I'd rather be feeling the cool water licking my body this morning. Instead the only thing licking my body is the constant waves of nausea that are effectively making me feel sea sick! 

I have taken my third capsule of magic meds that are supposed to render the nausea inert but this morning it is truly awful. 

Saint Mike has vacated the house with the KATs and taken them off for the swim that I really want...maybe I should drive after them? I'd like to but chundering out the window may not be a good look and although the water will be a blessing, the noisy children sharing the pool will do nothing to dull the roar that is occupying my head.

Yes this is day 3 post-chemo and like the first round it truly stinks...it's also going to be the day the girls and Saint Mike shave my head.

Post with photos will follow...

(Image credit - Martine Emdur painting)

Getting back on the chemo horse

This morning I stood in the shower staring blankly at my hands covered equally in shampoo suds and my hair. Every day I have gingerly touched my hair waiting for it to give up the follicular ghost. 

As I mentioned in my last post I had even started to feel a bit of imposter syndrome creeping in as the days passed and I was not bald!

I had rationalised that as my 1st chemo session had been such a debacle I had been spared losing my hair and it would happen in the next few weeks post my new FEC cocktail commencing. So as I showered this morning with my head full of "worry" about what the day would bring in the chemo-lucky-dip department I absent-mindedly shampooed my hair. Seeing that amount of hair come away without even a whimper (no discomfort felt at all) was truly perplexing. Almost in disbelief I shampooed for a 2nd time and sure enough more hair fell out. 

I felt a bit bewildered to be honest. It's odd how even though I knew it was going to happen the timing just caught me by surprise. In order to give the KATs plenty of forewarning I called them in and gave them the news. Oldest KAT seemed unperturbed as did Littlest KAT. Not unsurprisingly Middle KAT did her best to be stoic but was clearly perturbed.

Annoyingly I couldn't spend the entire day pondering the imminent reveal of my scone as I had my chemo appointment to get to! So I ignored the hair mounting on the floor, in the basin and on the counter (note to self - white corian bench top is a VERY bad idea!).

I chose to dress in super bright spring colours today to counter the feelings of anxiety that could have swamped me if permitted. I'm trying to stetch my blogging skills so created this collage of the outfit...wasn't up for photos today!

It wouldn't be me if the chemo clogs didn't get an outing! My nails are also currently coral pink/orange shellac:)

The top looks blah but in actual fact it's a really nice lime green and I love it with the coral.

I'll post in more detail on how the actual chemo went but in short I'm home, I'm on an anti-nausea drug that doesn't give me lock jaw and a nasty metallic taste in my mouth. I am wiped out and am going to stay in bed and rest as long as my body tells me it needs to (thank goodness for another week of school holidays).

Over and out from my own personal pharmacy!!!

Respite from reality

 

My next chemo cycle starts this Friday. I have six cycles of FEC which sounds like some sort of mucous you would cough up during a particularly bad chest infection.

In actual fact it's an acronym for the cocktail of three drugs which my lovely oncologist has informed me will not result in the sort of severe allergic reaction I had when I had my first chemo round....oh that would be the one I haven't been able to write about here because it was so traumatic!

Imagine someone going into anaphylactic shock and that about covers it! Suffice to say that the drug that caused this reaction is not one I will be having. To add to my "special" status I also managed to have a reaction to the anti nausea medication (Maxalon) which resulted in something akin to lock jaw and a bad sense of vertigo which when combined with the buzz from all the steroids they had to pump into me made me truly want to euthanise myself pronto.

I was bedridden for five days and then improved daily the point that I was feeling dreadfully guilty (once again) for all the assistance I'm receiving with the KATs....imposter syndrome persists even when I'm legitimately unwell....I still feel like a faker...not "sick" enough...undeserving of all the terribly nice things people are doing and saying to me.

My poor KATs are naturally finding this roller coaster ride a tad tiresome and I thought they deserved a break from reality just as much as Saint Mike and I do! So a few days away have been the order of the day.

We loaded the car up with cossies, goggles, bikes and the minimum amount of clothing and drove a few hours north of Sydney to the calm and tranquility of a beachside holiday park. We have been here before years ago so I knew it was the antidote to our malady. Four days later I'm typing this as the KATs frolic in the pool....their last swim before they jump into the already loaded car for the return trip to our unwanted reality.

Oldest KAT tearfully proclaimed that it has been the best holiday she's ever had because she could forget that I'm sick and no one has asked her how her mum is. Truthfully I don't look sick (my hair is yet to fall out...cue more imposter syndrome) and I too have been lulled into feelings of "normal"....my heart breaks that we cannot remain in this state of blissful ignorance.

They have ridden their bikes with gay abandon, furtively admired cute boys around the park and frolicked like dolphins in the pool. I'm already plotting to return in early December to give them (and me) a much-needed booster shot before chemo round 5 on Dec 20....this time with our hard-working daddy along for the whole time!

The image I've used in this post is a mosaic garden tile that I made with Middle KAT....that was my week 2 project....I exhausted myself lifting three such concrete pavers and have been sternly instructed by my oncologist and Saint Mike to undertake less taxing creative distractions during chemo...passing out isn't a good look!

So we don our Indiana hat and march on relentlessly towards the other side of this horrible abyss....wish me luck for my mucous-like FEC regime:)

 

Posted with Blogsy

Wearing Indiana's Hat

In my last post I mentioned that Middle KAT and I had been workshopping an analogy to help her cope with what's happening to me.  As you'll know if you've spent any time reading about Middle KAT, she's a bit of a visual child.

Our gorgeous girl is a bit of a movie buff.  It makes my heart sing as watching movies has always been a huge buzz for me...but it's also something that gives her a real connection with Saint Mike because she's a keen aficionado of the sorts of movies that make HIS heart sing...think completely inappropriate action/war/sci-fi/blood & guts "boy" flicks!!! 

So, where else to go for an analogy to help her understand mummy's predicament than a classic action flick....Indiana Jones!

 

 

So as I stood holding her tight whilst she cried at the shock of seeing my pixie hair, we talked about how what we were doing was a bit like what Indiana had to do when he cuts a swathe through the jungle only to come bursting out to find himself perched perilously on the wrong side of an abyss.

 

 

Every nerve ending is telling him that he should not proceed, risking life and limb on the tenacity of some dodgy rope ladder strung across this crevasse. 

 

His fight or flight instincts are engaged in a rowdy battle under his hat.

 

But he knows that he needs to get to safety across that bridge and he really has no choice....he must do the thing he least wants to do.

 

We are like Indiana Jones - we have no choice.  What's on the "other side" is the rest of our life. Our life together as a family.  This is an abyss that there's only one way to cross - surgery, chemo, more surgery and a very long stretch where mummy doesn't look like the person you know and love!

 

Middle KAT really got this analogy!  It gave her the necessary "colour and movement" and seems to have enabled her somewhere to park her feelings and that's what I wanted.

 

I'm posting this from bed recovering from the first round of chemo.  It didn't go well!  I'm barely functioning.  If I'm continuing the Indiana Jones analogy I feel like some little Aztec guy shot me with a poison dart!!!!

 

Next post I'll relate what happened.  We haven't fallen into the abyss but it was certainly calling my name a few times.

The Premeditated Chop

 

 

My first chemo cycle commences tomorrow. The countdown will thus commence until the day my hair follicles decide to head for the hills.

Never one to contemplate an idea for too long lest the opposing view gains traction I booked in for a "pre-chemo chop" with my beautiful hairdresser Rachel.

I thought chopping my hair off was a way to inoculate myself and the KATs from the shock of losing my hair completely. I hate to say it but I'm no longer convinced of the wisdom of this approach....poor Middle KAT was completely devastated when she saw my pixie cut!!!

This photo was taken a week ago at dinner to celebrate Oldest KAT turning 13!! As you can see my hair was long enough to pull back in a ponytail....not any more!

I feel okay when I look in the mirror but it's like looking at someone else. I cried when Rachel started. I cried during the cut. I cried when I left the salon and I've cried along with Middle KAT as she cried big heaving sobs. I asked her to tell me what words came into her head to describe how she's feeling:

Scared

Worried

Frightened

What to say to allay those horrible feelings? Well, when you're me you go for an analogy....next post I will share it with you:)

It will be all good. I just wish it was all good now! If I had to express how I'm feeling right now it would also be:

Scared

Worried

Frightened

Great minds think alike:)

 

In Between Times

It's been a month since I found my lump. It really illustrates how life can change in an instant.

I'm now recuperating from my 2nd surgery and today am feeling quite washed out. The pathology results showed the cancer to be high grade and therefore fast growing but thankfully not in my nodes...I'll still need chemo but at least I can feel relatively reassured about my prospects.

We have been receiving lots of lovely flowers...they are so beautiful

There's also been lots of food delivered which Saint Mike particularly loves!!! Our chest freezer is coming in very handy:)

Life goes on and August is a birthday month in our house -Littlest KAT turning 6 and Oldest KAT soon to turn 13!!!

Middle KAT is keeping us amused with her antics...she's found a new use for the lovely breast support cushion (we call it the "booby cushion")...

Our cancelled overseas trip is still there in the background giving me pangs of sadness...emails from French hotels with check-in info which we no longer need:( I know it will still be there when I recover but I'm not feeling very trusting in making plans I may not get to fulfil.

For now I continue to recover and think of the chemo ordeal ahead...my body needs all the nurturing I can give it so I'm on the Green Smoothie bandwagon!

 

 

 

Out the other side

I'm drugged up on endone but wanted to do a little post for those special people like my friend Carmel who are far away and not on Facebook so have spent the day praying for me and worrying!!

Pre surgery I was extremely nervous. Sentinel node injections went smoothly and were far less painful than Dr Google had suggested! Not a walk in the park but not gripping the edge of the gurney either:)

Every single staff interaction I've had today has been lovely...the Mater in Sydney is a place brimming with caring, compassionate people.

Waiting for surgery was emotional but I had Saint Mike to hold my hand.

Being roused in post-op I felt drowsy and in pain but not nauseous and knew I was in good hands. By the time I got to the ward I just really needed to see my gorgeous husband....how people go through this without a loving partner is beyond me.

I'm on hourly obs so can't really go to sleep...I'm amusing myself by watching The Great Australian Bake Off and reading the many many messages from friends and family on Facebook and text.

I've also spoken to Oldest and Middle KAT and love that I am once again humbled by what beautiful and caring girls they are:)

Signing off now....thanks and love to all my friends and family who are getting their updates here!

FBC update

So it's the night before my lumpectomy and I've polished off a glass and a bit of wine and nibbled on some Parmesan biscuits. Pathetic final meal before 20% of my boob gets lobbed off isn't it!

It's been a roller coaster of a couple of weeks. Emotionally draining is an understatement. I went through the motions if seeing a Plastic & Reconstructive surgeon to consider if it made sense to "fix" things up at the same time the Breast Surgeon took out the other nasty bits. I weighed it up and decided that I'd prefer to focus on aesthetics later...there's always the chance that the biopsy reveals that the margins aren't clear and further surgery is required...if I had the breast tissue moved around by the plastic surgeon there would be no way of just whipping out a little bit more margin....instead it would be a case of take the entire breast off!

My Breast Surgeon agreed that there's a 1 in 5 chance that additional surgery is required to take further clean margin around the lump so it just didn't add up to me. So for the foreseeable future I will be officially lopsided!

I have had a couple of calls from the Breast Care nurse whose job it is to ease my way through the virtual quagmire of information that you are confronted with as part of this journey. She recommended I avoid google if at all possible. Being the non compliant sort of girl that I am I haven't completely complied with this request! When I have visited Dr Google its frightened the life out of me and I end up a screaming, crying mess!

My wonderful school community has rallied and my church community has also been lovely (thanks Tonia). I feel well supported and we now have a freezer full of food and a laminated schedule for the younger KATs to get them around after school. We feel really touched at the effort people have gone to on our behalf.

I will be referring to my ailment as FBC....if the B'C stands for Breast Cancer I will let you work out what the F stands for!!!

I know that some of my friends do like to get my thoughts via KATcapers so despite not wanting to only focus on the FBC I feel it only appropriate to update the blog status:)

I'd like to say bring on tomorrow but I'm scared and am fully aware that the surgery will reveal the full pathology and I may not like what I hear! I'm scared and not afraid to admit it.

Signing of for now:))