Bad week

It has been seven weeks since my last chemo and I am still suffering from chemo brain. I spent most of yesterday thinking it was Wednesday, not Thursday. It was only when I arrived early to my radiation appointment that I realised what day it was. It hasn't been the best week. Wednesday was the day I had planned to fly to Tahiti (which was poo-pooed by the radiation oncologist), so the day didn't start out that great. However, I was focusing on the positive that I only had one more week of radiation to go and then I am done! That bubble was burst when I found out that I have to have an extra week of 'boost' treatments. My skin is very very dark and being held together by the 3.4L of moisturiser that I apply twice a day, so I am not sure how it will be after another two weeks of treatments.

In addition to that news, I was advised that the company I work for is closing their Brisbane office; which means I am now on the job hunt. I am not that enthused about job hunting with no eyebrows, but it can't be avoided. It also raises the issue about when to disclose to potential employers that I will need every third Monday off for the next 38 weeks. It is good to be upfront and honest, but I don't want it to jeopordise my application. Although, once the article comes out next week - there will be no hiding from it in Brisbane! Whilst being made redundant is less than ideal, I just focus on the fact that it's not the worst news I have been given in the past twelve months!

Radiation - have lost track of how many treatments

I read a quote the other day that really hit me, 'Tough times don't last, tough people do'. It made me realise that if I can make it through this, I can make it through anything.

Radiation continues to go well and the upper left quadrant of my body continues to brown. I will need to even up the tan when radiation is finished - I am thinking a tropical island with cocktails! My annoying little cold has turned into a chest infection and I sound like a man, but I was also told the man voice could also be caused my inflammation of my voice box due to the radiation. I hope it is the chest infection because I don't want to sound like a man for the next few weeks. However, I would prefer to sound like a man than have blisters or an itchy rash, so if man voice is the only side effect of radiation, I will take it! I am still feeling pretty good, but I am not sure because I am not feeling the chest infection, or that compared to how I have felt for the first seven months of this year a chest infection is insignificant!

I took my half tan and man voice to the rugby on Saturday. I am feeling less achy and not so tired, so it was great to be out and not feel like I am dragging myself around. It was great being out again, watching the rugby with a rum in hand. It almost felt like my old self, almost. I was talking to a guy and he noticed the scar from my portacath and asked what it was from. He guessed that it was either a lung or heart operation. Since the scar is high on the right side of my chest, I don't think his command anatomy was great.

I woke up Sunday morning feeling very tired and conceded that I was sick, so spent most of the day in bed - just like a real hangover! I dragged myself out of bed to take Barney to the dog park, which I thought would be a quick half an hour outing. In the space of five minutes he was covered in mud and looked like a golliwog. The only clean part of his body was the top of his head, so I had to make a stop by the dog wash on the way home. I dragged myself home and spent the rest of the night on the couch and slept for about 10 hours last night. I have to realise that whilst I might feel ok, I am still recovering from a pretty traumatic eight months and I have to slowly get back into life - not just jump in at the deep end! I have to remind myself that recovery is a process not an event.

Radiation - week three

I have reached the half way point of radiation - only 15 more treatments to go. It is incredibly tiring going to the hospital every day, but they are getting faster at positioning and radiating me. Yesterday was the fastest time - 37 minutes. The waiting room is full of patients all who are at different stages of their treatment and some who are incredibly ill. It makes me very sad to see these patients, but I am also grateful that my treatment is going well and things are on track for a full recovery.

I am currently sporting a very distinctive radiation tan, but only on the upper left quadrant of my body. It looks as though I have a desk job which is next to a window and only get sun on one side of my body. It isn't so bad when you look at the tanned section by itself (it looks like an over cooked bread roll with a nipple on the top), but it looks strange when you compare it to the other slightly more pasty side. When you compare the two, it looks like a Benetton ad, they are very different. According to Antiques Roadshow my street value has plummeted, because as soon as you damage one of a matching pair the value drops. I am fortunate that I haven't broken out in a rash, blisters or had any skin breakages. So far, so good. Overall, I am feeling pretty good. I can feel my energy returning and it is nice not having to deal with the side effects of chemo anymore. I saw an old friend the other day, who I haven't seen for a while. I said hello and when he asked me how I was, I said 'yeah, I am fine, really well'. He looked at me with a rather quizzical look and asked me if I had been sick. I am not sure whether I think that everyone knows about my diagnosis, or if I was feeling so well, I temporarily forgot that I was sick.

I had my make-up done this morning for a photoshoot. It was strange to have that much make-up put on me, it has been a very long time. The photoshoot is for the cover of a local publication, but I am not going to go into any more details just yet. The photographer was great and made me feel very comfortable. So comfortable that when he suggested I take off my scarf for some photos - I did! I haven't had any photos taken of me with my bald head. In fact, I can't remember the last time I had a photo taken. I felt confident that with the excellent make-up job, that I didn't look like Uncle Fester, so that is good. Of the 3478934789 photos that were taken, I hope they don't pick a baldy one for the cover......

I had my second solo Herceptin infusion on Monday and am feeling like an old man (stiff joints) and am currently battling off a cold. Apparently it is a side effect of Herceptin, but I suspect it may have something to do with hanging out with my nieces and nephew on the weekend. The kids are divine, but are also petri dishes of germs. It was great to spend time with them, as I haven't seen them as much as I usually do. George picked me a long stem red rose (it was taller than him and included the roots), it was beautiful, but was from a public park where you are forbidden to smell, touch or steal the roses. I put it in the car quickly to avoid damage and George being arrested.

In other news, my eyelashes are slowly returning, but the eyebrows continue to be awol. It's like the eyebrows started growing enough for me to see them and become excited, but have gone on strike and are not doing anything else. The hair on my head also continues to grow. I am waiting for it to be long enough to colour back to my usual colour. I am not keen to revel my Lee Ling Chin hairstyle to anyone! Which makes it far more curious as to why I had it photographed today for a publication cover!!!!!!!!!!!! Perhaps it was a poor decision, but I am blaming chemo brain.

Radiation - week 2

As I come to the end of week two of radiation, I am starting to notice things are changing. The first thing I have noticed is that I am getting more comfortable with being half naked in a room full of strangers. I have also become quite talented in getting on and off the table without showing my girls to every one in the room. Another thing I have noticed is that I am more aware about my positioning, so the radiation technicians only have to do small adjustments and don't have to yank me by my ankles. Once I am lying on the table, I move into the position that I feel most uncomfortable, and then I know I have to stay like that for the next 40 minutes. I am also started to get radiation tan lines. I saw a lady the other day who was having radiation on her face and it was bright red. I have been told that the radiation has a stronger affect on areas of your body that have had sun exposure. Since I haven't been topless at the beach since I was about two, I am hoping that the redness and blistering is minimised. I have also been drowning my skin in the cream and have become quite a good contortionist at rubbing it on my back.

I have also started Pink Pilates, which is specifically designed for women who have had breast cancer. Which has been great, as I have started to feel very stiff down my left side due to the radiation. I was a little bit nervous about getting back into exercise, but I was inspired by my friend who did personal training and weight lifting through her chemo! I was also nervous about what to wear on my head during the session. I know it sounds silly, but I am not comfortable revealing my semi-bald head outside the safe confines of my house. I didn't know if it would look stupid to wear a beanie or would I look like an idiot if I wore one of my Oroton silk scarves. Decisions decisions! Life was so much easier when I had hair to wear. My hair continues to come back, but still in the places that I don't want it. I am still without eyebrows and eyelashes. My hope at the moment is that I have eyebrows for the Wallabies v All Blacks game on July 24!

Making new friends

The treatment of cancer comes with a very long list of side efffects, all of which are horrid and I have graphically discussed in previous blogs. One great side effect is that through all of this, I have made new friends. People that I wouldn't have come across in my life, if it wasn't for breast cancer. I have spent a lot of time sitting in waiting rooms, and find myself chatting with the people around me (sadly none of these people cute single men in their 30's who like bald chicks). Every one has a story. One lady at radiation showed me her rash, which was graphic, but helpful to know where to put the cream to avoid the afore mentioned rash.

As there is currently no support group for single women with breast cancer, it has been incredibly helpful being in touch with other women who are in a similar situation to me. I had lunch with two of these women on Sunday and it was great. We chatted until they started packing up the restaurant around us. We didn't talk about breast cancer and treatment the entire time, we talked and laughed about a lot of things. Whilst my friends have been amazing, it is comforting to be amongst women who have been through breast cancer. They have been a great source of information and it is good to know that I am not the only one who feels weird about starting to go out again. I am heading out again this weekend and have bought eyelashes in preparation!

I am a little sad to report that the idea of Tahiti has been canned by the radiation oncologist. Apparently, they do speed up radiation for extreme cases, but Tahiti was not a good enough reason. I thought it was a pretty good reason, but I am not the man with the power. Anyway, I will just have to start planning other things. It is the first time in a very long time that I am excited about what lies ahead of me.

Body hair and disclosure

As I enter the end of the first week of radiation, I find myself starting to think about the future. I think it is because I spend a portion of every day lying down half naked in a room full of strangers, I have to think about something to distract me from my reality. I had two close friends go on first dates this week and I began thinking about dating again. I miss getting dressed up, going out and feeling excited about a date. That feeling of butterflies in your stomach leading up to the date, and the cheeky smile that comes across your face when someone asks if you have plans that night or weekend. I have started going out again a little bit, but am still feel reluctant. I still do not feel comfortable with myself and how I look. Even though the addition of eyelashes made such a huge difference the other week, my eyebrows are atrocious and can't be salvaged with the use of an eye pencil. I can't complain too much though, my hair has started to come back. Unfortunately, it appears to be coming back from the ankles up. So I basically have hair in all the parts that you spend money on getting it removed - except my eyebrows!

I used to be a huge fan of the flirt and even did it without meaning to. The other day, I was in my car and a guy pulled up next to me and smiled. I just looked straight ahead and ignored him, I didn't know what to do. I am so out of practice, it is sad. As I find myself going out more and more, meeting new people and catching up with old people, I have started to think about when I should disclose what is happening to me. I am not going to use it as a conversational opening, but at some point it needs to be told. Hopefully at some point I will meet a guy who becomes a person of interest, when is an appropriate moment to tell my possible future husband? My treatment is going to continue for another year, and the issue of babies can't be raised for at least three years, so that can't be hidden. Another thing that can't be hidden is my cool collection of scars. Well some scars can be hidden under clothes, but some can not. Obviously, this is not something that I need to deal with in the immediate future, as nobody is going to want to date a female Uncle Fester. I hope the eyebrows appear in time for me to meet my possible future husband.

Entering the next phase of Operation Kick Cancer's Ass

When this whole drama started, I broke it down into four parts as I couldn't wrap my head around what was ahead of me. They were:

1. Operation
2. Chemo (8 doses)
3. Herceptin (14 doses)
4. Radiation (30 doses)

Once these four stages are complete, I can get my life back. I have completed stages one and two, and last week commenced stages three and four. Herceptin involves going to the chemo clinic every three weeks, having a needled plunged into my chest and Herceptin delivered intravenously. Which isn't different from chemo, apart from the side effects. I had my first Herceptin last Monday and I am very glad to say that it didn't knock me out for a week or more. I had the next day off work, but was all good the day after that. I was feeling anxious about the side effects, but I now know that NOTHING is as bad as chemo.

I wasn't looking forward to radiation as the planning stage was such a drama. However, I did very politely ask that if during the positioning stage, if someone was going to yank me by my ankles, I would like to be informed first. They took this on board and the first three treatments have been pretty easy so far. I also asked about why they wanted to take photos and why the positioning is so unique. I was hoping they weren't going to say because you have the weirdest boobs to ever have come through the clinic. I have to admit that I have checked out some of the other women, and I am pretty sure mine aren't the strangest. It turns out that they have never had to radiate someone in the prone position (that it technical medical talk for lying on my belly with my arms above my head) when they have to radiate my shoulder up to my neck, because so many lymph nodes were involved. I felt much better about this and feel I can contribute a photo of my shoulders and back of my head to a medical journal.

It is taking them less and less time to get me in the right position, so by the 30th treatment, they should have it perfected. Radiation doesn't hurt and I lie there thinking about lying on a beach in Tahiti, and this makes the hour go past pretty fast. I have been invited to go sailling around Tahiti with a friend and I am really hoping that by thinking about myself lying on a Tahitian beach, that I get to go. It may involve moving some of the radiation treatment, but I figure that if I had a car accident and was in a coma, they couldn't radiate me, so they should be able to delay treatment if I am on a boat sailing around Tahiti! Although, some may argue that if I am in a coma, I have bigger issues to deal with. The issues I have to deal with during radiation are red skin, rash, blistering and possible skin breakages. Luckily, this mainly happens to women with more generous servings of breast. Another curse for big boobed women! I had a dream that I blistered so badly that I couldn't wear a bra, so I refused to leave the house for six weeks. I had visions of myself as that eccentric lady who walks through town wearing a sheet as a sarong (although, I have far less facial hair and do not look like Old Man Finnegan). I really hope that stays a dream........

First night out - take two

After my disasterous first attempt to re-enter Friday night cocktail hour, I thought much about why it was so horrid. I came up with the answer - eyelashes. I felt that eyelashes were the key for a successful night out. As my next social event was the Wallabies v Ireland rugby game, I had to make sure that I was in fine form. I had purchased my ticket a few months ago, and I had been looking forward to this game for a long time. It was the first time I was out post-chemo and the first time I was allowed to have more than one rumbo! I had cleared it with my oncologist and he said I was allowed rum 'in moderation'. I suspect that his definition of moderation and mine may differ slightly. I did some investigating and purchased some false eyelashes. The beautician up the road was kind enough to apply them for me, as my last attempt to apply false eyelashes almost ended up with me losing sight in both eyes and gluing three fingers to my eyelid. I was pleasantly surprised how much of a difference having eyelashes made me feel. If I ignored the fact that I had no eyebrows, I felt like I was slowly returning to my old self.

Armed with my friends, drawn on eyebrows, wig and eyelashes I headed out after the game. I was amazed how much confidence it gave me, I didn't feel like a fraud at all and even managed to talk to strange men. Well, not that they were strange, rather they were strangers to me. Although, as it turned out at least one of them was a little strange.......

I was very controlled and didn't go too crazy on the rumbos as I didn't want a hangover. Although, I don't think anything could be worse than a chemo hangover. It was good to be out again and feeling somewhat like myself. I had forgotten the joys of waiting for a cab home on a Saturday night, but when I finally crawled into bed at about 3am, I was exhausted and happy.