Thursday, December 29, 2011

Rest, recovery and my favourite Red!

I can hardly believe it is only three weeks to the day since I had my brain tumour removed. It still seems surreal to me. I think the recovery from this surgery has been easier than my first surgery. In the three weeks since my brain surgery, I have had nothing else to do but focus on my recovery. I have celebrated my birthday and travelled to Canberra for Christmas. In the few weeks after my last surgery I had my eggs harvested, my portacath implanted and started chemo - with my birthday and Christmas celebrations thrown in the mix also. Also, after the first surgery I came home with a wound drain and had to see the surgeon every few days to have my wound syringed. I am not sure if it is a psychological thing, not being able to see my wound, but I feel I have recovered faster from this surgery. Thankfully, I have been able to shower and dress myself since my surgery, so haven't had to get my mother to assist me with that!

I have seen a number of doctors since my brain surgery and they have all commented about my remarkable recovery. I still get tired, but my headaches have disappeared and my balance is improving every day. It has only been in the last few weeks that I have really thought about how different the outcome of my surgery could have been. I feel very grateful that I am able to walk, talk and function just as I did before my surgery. Once again I listen to my body and when I am tired, I lie down and I don't push myself. Hence, I am in bed at 8pm writing this blog.

There have been a number of good things that have happened in the past few weeks. Once again, I have been blown away by the tsunami of support that I have received. When we returned from holidays yesterday, there were fresh flowers waiting (which luckily hadn't died while we were away!). However, one of the best things happened last week, thanks to some organisation from a friend of mine. A friend of mine contacted my mother to see when a good day would be to have a morning tea before Christmas. All week friends had been saying that a mystery guest was coming along and I was asked numerous times by a variety of people if I liked the show 'Home and Away'. I had visions of me trying to make polite conversation with Alf! I was slightly worried about this, so invited a few friends around as well, who could act as a buffer, so it wasn't just me and Alf talking about flamin' galahs!

Thursday morning came and mum and I were busy getting things ready. I was getting nervous about who the visitor could be and trying to think up topics of conversation if it was in fact Alf who rang the doorbell. When the doorbell rang I almost fell over when I opened the door to find Greg Holmes standing there with flowers! It was one of those very rare moments in life where I was totally lost for words. My feelings were a mix of complete shock and relief that it wasn't Alf from Home and Away (no offence to Alf fans). For those of you who do not know me very well - I am a huge Queensland Reds fan and Greg Holmes has been my favourite player for a few years now. He was so lovely and stayed for almost two hours and even bought me a Reds jersey that was signed by the entire team. My sister happened to 'pop in' looking glamorous with a Reds cap for him to sign. She also needed some coolant put in her car, which Greg also helped her with. He was so lovely - posing for photographs and signing any Reds stuff I could find!

I didn't know the story of how he came to be at my house, as my friends had been quite secretive about it, so I asked him. It was arranged through one of the performance managers who spoke to my friend and asked Greg if he would mind visiting a woman who was quite sick. He didn't know what to expect - but it wasn't the vast array of morning tea delights, 8 of my friends and putting coolant in my sister's car! He said he was a bit nervous as he didn't know how sick I would be, if I was going to be propped up in bed and he wasn't sure what we were going to talk about. It was a week to the day since my surgery and I wasn't propped up in bed - I had been running around making sandwiches and getting things ready for the morning tea! I felt very lucky to have had a visit from my favourite Reds player and I said to him that I didn't feel sick enough to warrant a visit. I keep forgetting that I had malignant brain tumour removed and that is pretty bloody serious!

I have felt grateful that I have had the opportunity to rest, recover and enjoy Christmas without having to worry about treatment at this stage. I have seen the radiation oncologist and will go for my planning day next week, with treatment to start the second week of January. It will be three weeks of intensive radiation therapy - 2 weeks of whole head and 1 week which will focus on the site of the tumour. Whilst I am very happy not to have to go through the horror of chemo again, I am sooooooooooooo upset about going bald - again! Just when my ponytail was getting long and my hair had started to grow down! It just isn't fair that you have to go bald for only 3 weeks worth of treatment. I keep hoping that my super strong post-chemo hair will take pity on me and not evacuate my scalp - but I think that is overly optimistic. So many people have said to me that I have a great shaped head, that there are so many cool hats out this season and that I have an array of great scarves. To those people who do not understand what it is like to lose you hair - it doesn't matter about the shape of your head, the hat fashion or how cool my scarves are - I want to keep my bloody hair!

Thursday, December 15, 2011

What a week!

Since leaving the hospital a few days ago, things have calmed down and I have started to process the magnitude of what has happened in the past week. Sitting on my bed, I can't believe that a week ago I had a malignant brain tumour removed. I heard my mother talking to someone about it on the phone and for a split second I thought 'geez, poor girl' then realised, that 'poor girl' was me!

I went back to my house the other day to collect a few things, which was the first time since leaving the house in such agony last Thursday. It was good to be there, but initially it felt a little weird. The last time I was in my room I honestly thought I was going to die. I have never been in such pain or so scared in all my life. I am so grateful to have my parents so close to me and a hospital 10 minutes down the road. Last time I was diagnosed, I had a week to process the diagnosis and wrap my head around the surgery. This time it all happened in a few hours, so it will take me a while to process. I was quite out of it on Thursday morning and didn't fully appreciate the extensive list of possible side effects from the surgery. People keep saying to me that I look remarkable for someone who had major brain surgery a week ago. Apparently it is remarkable that I can walk, talk, type and function. I would have to say that it was going to take a lot more than a 3cm brain tumour to stop me from talking!!!!!!! The reality is that I could have come out of the surgery a different person, but a week down the track I am pretty much the same - just with some cool new scars. I do notice that when I get tired I tend to drift to my left and it takes me a while to think of some words.

I had a bit of a traumatic day the other day when I went to have my bone and body scans done. I had to have a needle put in for the tests, but because my veins on my right arm had been hammered over the last week, they found it difficult to get a good vein. After a few attempts and a lot of tears they were able to access a vein. Lying there waiting to be scanned, I can't believe that this was once again my life. The technician was chatting to me and asking if this was a follow up from previous cancer, I had to reply, no, that once again I am starting all over and again and my two year follow up was the next day. Luckily the scans were all clear and I just have to deal with the brain tumour, which is a big enough deal.

My speedy recovery will be accelerated by my sentence at Mamma Bear's Health Retreat/Jail. Once again I have given my parents a few more grey hairs, but it is good for them to be kept on their toes! Once again we have been overwhelmed by phone calls, messages, cards, visits and gifts. It is amazing how quickly word spreads and how the community comes together. Today I had my staples removed, which wasn't nearly as painful as I thought it was going to be. I am sure this will make sleeping a lot more comfortable and even now I notice the ache in my head has subsided.

Next week is Christmas and in between making plans for the festive season, I will be going to see my radiation oncologist about the next step. I have heard that the radiation makes you dopey, bald and looks like you have a bad spray on tan. So basically, I will be like Brittany Spears having a break down; which I guess is better than Uncle Fester from last year!


Monday, December 12, 2011

Spoke too soon......

So for those of you who keep up to date with this blog, you may remember that I mentioned the shooting pains in my head that I was having last week. I had two days off work because of my headaches and was feeling a bit soft. I woke up on Tuesday and Wednesday with the pain in my head and nausea, which was very unlike me. Luckily, our cleaner was home on Tuesday and was able to help me. The pains continued for a short time and then ceased. My cautious father booked me an appointment with a neurosurgeon on Wednesday afternoon to have a check-up, as he was concerned about the shooting pains in my head. The neurosurgeon ordered a MRI and CT, which I thought I would get on Thursday, as I was tired and cranky and just wanted to head home. Thursday morning I woke up in a torrent of pain with nausea and the shooting pains in my head. Unlike the last two mornings, the shooting pains didn't subside and after 45 minutes of agony, I rang my parents at 4.30am.

Luckily, my parents are 10 minutes away - which includes getting out of bed, dressed and driving to my place. By the time they arrived, I was doubled over in agony, grabbing my head and throwing up in a bucket in my room. I can honestly say that I have never been in so much pain in my life. Looking back at it now, I thought I had an aneurysm and that was going to be the end of me. We have a history of high blood pressure and aneurysm in our family with people passing away at 36....which was how old I was. Dad bungled me into the car, gave me a injection of Maxalon to stop me throwing up and drove me to the emergency department of the local hospital. I hear about long waiting times in waiting rooms, but I was sitting down for about 30 seconds before they whisked me away to see a doctor. Mum told me yesterday that dad also suspected an aneurysm, which helped speed up the process. I was a bit out of it, but I remember them giving me a magical drug which made the pain go away.

I was assured by the doctor that it wasn't an aneurysm, otherwise I would be dead and not sitting up talking to the doctor. I felt somewhat reassured, but then wondered what else could be wrong. I was taken for a contrast CT and the results came through. Before I knew the results, I heard the neurosurgeon from the day before saying 'right, what ever that is, it has to come out today'. Luckily he was operating at the hospital that morning and he was able to fit me into his list. It was very surreal, going from lying there with a headache to facing fairly major brain surgery later that day. I had to ring work and let them know I was in the hospital and wouldn't be at work that day. The events of the day are still a little fuzzy for me, but I had an MRI and was taken up to the operating theatre. The MRI revealed a 3cm malignant brain tumour which was pressing up against my brain and causing all these issues.

I woke up a few hours later in the ICU - tumour free and in a magical cloud of anti-pain medication. I was a bit out of it for a while, I am told that my brother came to visit me and we had a great chat - none of which I can remember! I also have vague recollections of cancelling a date on Thursday night via voicemail...........I apologise now to that particular gentleman! Coming out of the ICU, I was advised that I can walk, talk, touch my nose, recognise people, colours and move all my limbs. I didn't have epilepsy, seizures or a stroke - which upon reflection makes me realise just how bloody lucky I am! I have spoken to a few of my friends who are doctors and they all have very concerned looks on their faces when they look at my scans. I guess the benefit of being non-medical, is that I didn't understand just how sick I was. The rest of this week will be tests, tests and more tests. This will include new tests and my two year check up. I feel somewhat ripped off that I am coming to the end of one cancer crap and starting a new one simultaneously.

Sitting here in hospital six days later, I am still coming to terms with what happened. I still can't believe that only a few weeks ago I was so excited about getting to my two year anniversary and having my port removed. Thinking that all this cancer shit was behind me. I thought I was done and dusted and could continue with the rest of my life. I was actually thinking about the blog and wandered what to write about since the tumour thing was finished. I guess I spoke to soon.

I am sure that I will once again find humour in this tumour, but at the moment, I feel ripped off, pissed off, angry and sad. That is even before I get on to the topic of losing my hair......again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



Sunday, December 4, 2011

Lumps, bumps and scars

Leading tup to the removal of my port - I was excited. I felt like it as a big milestone having that thing out of my chest. I had a very quiet weekend, spending the weekend relaxing and thinking about the past two years. Over the weekend, I was having strong shooting pains in my head - like I was being stabbed in the head. After an x-ray and ultrasound, it was discovered that I had a lump in my thyroid - for which I had to have a biopsy.

It was a good thing that I was so busy at work, because I didn't have any capacity to think about it. I do not think about the cancer coming back, even when I went to the same place for the ultrasound and biopsy. It was even the same man who did the biopsy - and I did tell him that the last time he stuck a needle in me, it was cancer and I don't want to go through that again since my ponytail is getting long!

Even after having a needle plunged into my neck, I didn't even think about what it could be. When the results came back as benign, it was only then that I realised that it could have gone the other way. I think I felt that they had blasted me so much with chemo, that there can't be anything sinister growing. I don't think about the cancer coming back, even if it does, I kicked its ass once and I will do it again.

The scar when my portacath was removed is healing well and the pain is pretty much gone. I did have a friend comment on it today to say that I should start putting vitamin e cream on to reduce the scar. I put Bio Oil on my last scars and they are barely visible. I started thinking about my scar on my chest which is pretty visible. I am not embarrassed by it, I am not ashamed by it and I wear it proudly. I think of my scars and a sign of a battle that I fought and won.


Thursday, November 24, 2011

Two years on

This week marks two years since I found out I had breast cancer. I have been thinking about this week quite a bit in the lead up and wasn't sure how I would feel about it. Now that the is almost over, it has been good that I have been so busy at work this week, that I haven't had much time to think about it. Tonight is the night, two years ago, that my poor father received the results of my biopsy and he had to tell me that I had a malignant breast tumour. I would do anything to be able to take that away from my dad.

Tomorrow morning, just as we did two years ago to the day, my parents and I will head back to The Wesley Hospital. However, two years ago marked the day when my world imploded and I spent the day at the Wesley Breast Clinic being poked, prodded and squished. Tomorrow will have a very different ending - I am going to have my portacath removed! I feel that it is significant that I am getting the portacath removed on the same date as my world imploded. It makes Operation Kick Cancer's Ass nice and clean - all over in exactly two years. I will of course have to have follow ups and future poking, prodding and squashing, but I feel that the hard part is done.

I am not feeling anxious or nervous at all. I have had such a big week at work, that I am looking forward to the drug induced sleep and a sleep in! I do know one thing for sure though, I am definitely looking forward to not having the constant reminder in my chest. To all my wonderful family and friends who have helped me get through the last two years, I say thank-you. For all the women who are still going through their own Operation Kick Cancer's Ass, stick with it and you too will soon celebrate the end.

As we rapidly approach the crazy festive season...I say 'bring on a cancer free 2012'!!!!!!

Friday, July 22, 2011

Health, happiness and Barney.

I am not sure why, but in the past week or so I have been thinking about my diagnosis and treatment and the horror year that was 2010. Which I can now do without having bursts of angry tears - woo hoo! I have met quite a few women who have also had their lives hijacked by breast cancer and we all have things in common - great family, great friends and other support. In addition to the cocktail of cancer drugs we were on, some of these women were also on anti-anxiety or anti-depressants whilst going through treatment. I did utilise sleeping tablets as my sleep was disrupted by the steroids after chemo, but I didn't take valium or any anti-depressants. I was thinking what was the difference between me and these other women? We are all strong, vibrant and confident women who are tough and have come out the other side - so why was I different?

Upon reflection I have come to the conclusion that the difference was my big hairy horse dog - Barney. There were some people who were not supportive of the puppy idea and 18 months down the track I can see why. Dealing with cancer is stressful, but when you add in a pooing weeing puppy machine, it takes stress to a whole new level. However, I wouldn't change a thing! I got Barney the week after my first chemo treatment and he was born the week I was diagnosed - he is very special to me. No matter how sick I was feeling, I would take him to the dog park or kick a ball in the backyard, even if it was only for 10 minutes. On the days that I didn't have the energy, mum would take him to the dog park while I sat in the car and watched. It always made me feel happy and relaxed and I would momentarily forget about all the bad things I was going through.

I will never forget the day that I had my head shaved. As you can imagine, I was pretty distraught about the idea of being bald and sick and ugly. I came home from having my head shaved and went straight to my bed and cried and cried and cried. I didn't want to talk to anyone or see anyone. I heard a knock on the door and my mum came in saying that there was someone who wanted to see me. I didn't want to see anyone and told her to go away, she walked over to the bed and placed Barney next to me. He snuggled into me as I cried and started licking my head. I remember feeling very comforted by that little tongue licking my bald head. As gorgeous as he was, he didn't make up for the fact that I looked like Uncle Fester for months on end, but he did a bloody good job.

He was amazingly aware on the days that I wasn't feeling well - which was a lot. On the days that I struggled to walk down the stairs, Barney would patiently wait at the top of the stairs until I had reached the bottom and then run down; he would also do this as I ascended the stairs. Now as soon as I stand at the top of the stairs, he pushes past me and runs down to sit next to the hat rack - looking at his lead and then looking at me as if to say 'there is my lead, where are we going?'.

I was recently talking to a friend who has just finished chemo and was contemplating getting a puppy. I am definitely a dog person and would highly recommend Puppy Therapy. However, Puppy Therapy does come with side effects - you can think your puppy is a child and treat them as such, you can talk in a high pitch cutesy voice that only dogs can understand and no matter how hard you fight it - you will frequently find your bed half-taken up by a 40kg hairy horse hound who farts and snores all night! Ok, maybe that last one is just me.

So this entry is a salute to my big hairy horse dog Barney. He is a doggie celebrity in his own right, we go to the dog park and people who I have never met call his name and give him treats. Barney was the only one who was by my side more than my mother last year and he always manages to put a smile on my face even on my darkest days and for that I will be forever grateful. Thanks Barney.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Post-cancer dating......

Dating and cancer - not usually two words that go together and I still haven't found a brochure on the topic. I typed 'dating after cancer' into google and the first topic that comes up is 'cancer and divorce'. Once again, it is aimed for women who are older, have been married and have had kids. Once again, that is not me. There are some articles on the topic which are more relevant, but you do have to go searching for it.






I have been talking to the psychologist at the Cancer Council about getting back into dating. I have found that my poo-poo feelings have been exaggerated (yes, that is a technical term) and I take longer to bounce back. I have had a lot of disappointment when it comes to dating in the past, and I am not sure I am ready to launch back into that. I feel that the past 18 months have been bloody tough and I have had enough to deal with, without adding the messy world of dating to it as well. There is the issue of when to tell a new guy about what has happened and what it means for the future. There is a very high rate of return for the type of cancer I had and I am still unsure about whether I can have kids. Whilst I recognise that this is not the best conversational opening for a first date, it has to come out at some point. I am not ashamed or embarrassed about what has happened and am open to talking about it (clearly!!!!) - but when and how do you bring it up?







I have been saying for months that I wouldn't start dating until I had a fringe. I have been hiding my fringe under a headband for a little while now and today I wore my hair in a slick back ponytail for the first time since January 2010, so I can't use the fringe excuse anymore. After talking to the psychologist about this for a while, I thought I was ready to give it a go. I had the opportunity to go on a date with a fellow who I have only known for a few weeks. All seemed to be going very well and we were getting along great. He asked me if I had any tattoos and I immediately thought of my radiation tatts. Since I have the worst poker face in the world - he questioned what that look on my face meant. I am a pretty good judge of character (I wouldn't be a very good recruiter if I wasn't) and I felt comfortable enough with him to tell the truth. He had also previously admitted that he had googled me and actually quoted recommendations from my LinkedIn profile. I may be guilty of having typed my name into a search engine to see what pops up and I know that the first thing that comes up is the article on the ABC website about this blog. There are also results for the Mother's Day Classic walk and this blog. I can't imagine anyone googling the name of the person you are about to go on a date with seeing 'blogging my battle with cancer' and casually skipping over that to the LinkedIn result. I said that I do have tattoos, but they were for medical purposes not cosmetic. He naturally asked why and I told him that I was diagnosed with cancer at the end of 2009, but then quickly followed that up with that I had finished treatment and totally kicked its ass (I still smile when I say that)!!!!! Anyway, long story short - the date ended well and he was keen to catch up again the next night and the night after that. I already had plans, so we said we would catch up the next week. Anyway, after an email and a few text messages I still haven't heard back from him. Part of me thinks that I shouldn't have told him about the cancer thing and the other part of me thinks that he just didn't like me - which clearly shows poor taste so he is not worth worrying about anyway.





So, I thought that when the next opportunity presented itself, I wouldn't be so giving of information. This opportunity came when I was celebrating the Reds historic Super Rugby triumph last Saturday (woo hoo - this also makes me smile)...I met a new fellow. He had no idea of who I was and what had happened to me, which was refreshing. Like the last time I was fun, flirty and charming, well I thought so! Anyway, he also expressed interest in catching up again and we exchanged numbers. It's been a few days and still no follow through, will keep you updated on that one.......


Thursday, June 2, 2011

Hello again...

It's been a while since I have sat down to write the blog. I have felt weird about coming back to it as I haven't really felt like myself and have wanted to shake off some of the anger before blogging again. It's been a few weeks since I recognised that I was having some issues dealing with life after cancer. Most of my head space recognises that life after cancer is glorious and should be celebrated; there was that part of me that was just annoyed about the whole thing. I would see girls who had long hair and bad hair cuts and I would think to myself, 'you b*tch, you don't deserve to have hair!'. My dear friend Lana left on a long overseas trip and I have really missed her, which I think added to my state of sadness. Rather than letting my anger and sadness stew, I sought some help for it. You get so much help when you are going through treatment, but there is just as much help when you are finished treatment and I decided to utilise some of that help.

I first went to see a psychologist who was recommended to me by a friend, but didn't specialise in cancer counselling. She was nice enough, but sitting there and telling her my story was pretty traumatic. I was surprised how quickly into telling the story that I started crying. I didn't think that the feelings were so close to the surface, but apparently they were. She also suggested that I draw my feelings. For those of you who know me well, you know that I am a talker, definitely not a drawer - so that wasn't going to work for me. I spoke to my breast cancer nurse about how I was feeling and she recommended that I see a psychologist at the Cancer Council Queensland and she has been brilliant (and free!!!!). Even in the few weeks from acknowledging I was struggling, seeing the first psychologist and going to the Cancer Council - I felt better. I didn't even cry when going through the details of diagnosis and treatment with the new psychologist. She gave me some really great tips about what to do when I start to feel those feelings of anger welling up inside of me. When I start to have those feelings, I have to think of something which makes me smile. So far the things that I think about include - any of my nieces and nephews, Barney's smiling face, the Reds having a home final and my tickets to the rugby world cup! It feels good to have things to plan and to look forward to without having to account for treatment schedule!

We have also broached the topic of dating and when do you tell a guy about the whole cancer thing. It feels like a whole lot of baggage to take into a relationship. Issues include - the uneven boob thing, getting cancer again and the possibility of not being able to have kids. At this point, it all seems too hard, but luckily I am not dating anyone, so don't have to have that awkward conversation. I was talking with a friend the other day and she said she would like to go home and be greeted by a man who tells her that he loves her. I am lucky that I do have that - but it would be better if the man didn't have four legs, a tail and answers to the name Barney!

In other news, I did the Mother's Day Classic Walk, which raises money for breast cancer research. My sister was the number one fundraiser last year and did the walk on my behalf as I was bald and sick and exhausted and couldn't get off the couch. However, this year I did the walk and was number 2 fundraiser for the event! I felt very proud to do the walk, but it was pretty confronting seeing the images of people who hadn't survived. I started getting upset and think about why I made it and they didn't. I started to think about if I had felt those little lumps and did nothing about it until after New Years - where would I be right now? I stop the 'what if' feelings by thinking of my happy things. I am fortunate to have so many happy things to think about.

I am feeling stronger in myself and feel like I can start helping other people get through this. On the weekend I am catching up with a 32 year old girl who has had her first chemo treatment. I spoke to her on the phone and she seems lovely and positive and upbeat, we even laughed a few times. I am prepared for it to be confronting and I have my many happy things lined up to think about if things go pear shaped.

I am glad that I went and saw someone to help me and I am feeling better for it. I feel that I am stronger and I can help other women get through this horrid disease and I am slowly working out who the post-cancer me is.


Tuesday, April 12, 2011

I have had cancer, now what?

It has been 17 months since my breast cancer diagnosis. So much has happened since November 25, 2009 - when I think about it sometimes it makes my head sore. Going through the gruelling treatment I think I was in survival mode, just doing what ever I had to do to get through each day. It's been over a month since my last treatment and I have felt a mixture of excitement, relief and anger. I didn't realise that I was feeling angry until a few weeks ago.

Last week I received an email from a friend's mother, who is an amazing woman who has battled cancer three times. She gave me some good advice which started me thinking about the past 17 months. She said that she found the first year after treatment stopped was very hard. She told me that I had to make sure I had to look after myself and be kind to myself. When you are going through treatment, you have the support of friends and family, everyone is aware of the tough times you are going through. It is very visible - I was bald, pale, had dark circles under my eyes and was generally looking pretty gross. When treatment finishes, people think that you and life are back to normal. I expected me to be back to normal, but after 17 months of being consumed by cancer - I am not sure what 'normal' is anymore. I will never be the same person I was before my life imploded on that November day, I am not the cancer version of me and I am not sure where to go from here.

I still have the support of family and friends, but now I find that little things which wouldn't have bothered me before - just piss me off. I have this underlying feeling of anger and I think it is because I am not sure where to go from here. My hair is back, I am working full time and life is good - but I still feel angry. I don't know how to shake this feeling off and not sure how to move forward from here. I know that I want to move forward and get as far away from cancer as I can. Right from the beginning I said that I don't want to be known as a cancer survivor, I will always be Karen, who just happened to have had cancer. But, now what?

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Happy day!!!!!

I came to treatment today thinking that it was my third last and counting down the days until my last. As it happens, I miscalculated and today is not my third last treatment.....it is my last!!!!!! I have been thinking about this day since January 7th 2010, when my chemo started, but I still feel unprepared.

I started writing the above entry two weeks ago and I haven't been back to the blog since. My last day of treatment came as a pleasant surprise, but I wasn't mentally ready for it. I had my end date as April and it is a awesome that it is earlier, but it just feels weird. I didn't believe the nurse when she told me it was my last treatment and I made her check with the doctor and the pharmacy.....twice. Once it had been confirmed it was my last treatment - Mum cracked out a happy dance in the chemo clinic, I know she has been waiting for this day even more than I have. We then spent some time wondering how we would celebrate this momentous day. I feel like we have had celebrations for my birthday, Christmas and a few other family birthdays. So, the The night of my last treatment, I spent a quiet night at home alone. I know it was a great day, but I just wanted to spend the night alone. It still seems surreal to me that I have no more treatments. I will still have the joy of having a needle plunged into my chest every few weeks for the next 12 months, to flush the porta-cath, but at least it doesn't involve drugs which make you sick and bald and tired and gross.

I have also officially moved out of home, although there are still some items I have to pick up - lots of shoes and Barney! For the time being Barney is staying with mum and dad, with me having weekend access visits. I didn't realise just how much I would miss that fuzzy gold head and huge black nose. He and I have spent so much time together in the past 12 months, he is a huge part of my life and I miss him terribly. Luckily I still pop in during the week to see my parents, have dinner and see Barney.....not necessarily in that order of priority, but don't tell my mum!

Life is getting back to normal - I have had a haircut, am back at work full-time and the social life is definitely back on track! I can officially say that post-cancer - LIFE IS GREAT!

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Valentine's Day

On my walk to the office this morning, I counted eight delivery men delivering flowers, chocolates and presents for Valentine's Day. I recalled Valentine's Day a few years ago when was feeling a little bitter about all the girls walking through town with armed with presents and smug looks on their faces. It was at this point that I saw a homeless lady, who was pushing all her possessions around in a trolley. She was unwashed and wearing light coloured pants that she had soiled. It was at that point that I thought, there are people in the world worse off than me and I should be grateful for what I have and not lament over what I did not have. Later on that day, I was driving through the city and saw the homeless lady again; once again I was filled with the thought that I am lucky to have so much in my life. That was until she turned around and I spotted the huge bunch of flowers she was holding. It is now 4.30pm on Valentine's Day and I am currently sitting in the chemo clinic. Some girls get flowers, some girls get chocolates, some girls get gifts in duck egg blue boxes - I am getting chemo. Where is the justice???

However, I calculated that this is my fourth last treatment and I will be officially finished on April 18th!!!!!! Only 63 days left. And whilst 63 days might seem like a long count down, it doesn't feel that that long when I look back to when I started this in November 2009. By the time I finish, it will be 16 months of treatment done and dusted. I feel like I can tick 'Operation Kick Cancer's Ass' off my to-do list and move on to the next item. As the weeks progress, I am starting to feel more and more like myself. My bloods are slowly improving and I am getting more energy. My hair is starting to grow, in fact I was somewhat optimistic and plugged in my hair straightener the other week. However, in my attempt to straighten out the bev curls that are sprouting at the nape of my neck, I ended up burning the back of my neck, so the hair straightener has been once again packed away (but hopefully not for too long!).

I am also moving out of the family home next weekend. I feel that this is an important move to take a step further away from the past year. Whilst I will miss the luxuries of living at home with a very attentive and generous mother, I am looking forward to having my own space. I couldn't have coped with the past year without the support of my parents, but this is an important step to regaining my independence.

In some respects I feel like I have moved on with my life and have dealt with the cancer experience. However, things happen which make me feel like I am in the middle of everything. A good friend of mine asked me if I would loan my wig to her friend who has just started her treatment for breast cancer. Being the type of person who wants to help everyone, I said yes immediately and told my friend just to let me know when she would like to pick it up. My friend suggested that I go with her to visit her friend and we can deliver the wig together. Again, my initial reaction was to say 'yes' immediately, but then I thought about it. There are no photos of me when I was drowning in chemo and I avoided looking at reflective surfaces. I don't have a picture in my head of what I looked like when I was bald, grey and had dark circles under my eyes. I am not sure how I will cope seeing someone like that and thinking that is what I looked like also. One thing that I really want to do is to join the Cancer Council's Peer Support network, which I think would be incredibly helpful. I know how amazing it has been to have friends who are going through the same thing and know what it is like to have your life hijacked by cancer. I now understand why you have to be finished treatment before you can do this. Just when you think you are ok and your life is back on track, something will trigger you and you are right back in the middle of it. The other day I was talking to a good friend about losing my hair. It has been over a year since I was able to pull my hair out in clumps and it still makes me cry. Apart from having my parents tell me I was sick, losing my hair was the hardest part. I think that was the first time I realised that I was sick and going to get sicker.

That is all in the past and I am now all about the future. I have changed my picture on facebook. For those of you who know me, you will know that when all this started I had a picture of Kojack eating a chuppa chup. When my hair started to grow back, my picture was a Chia Pet. It is time to have a new picture of me. So once again, my face (and short hair) is on facebook. In the short term I am very much looking forward to Rugby Union season kicking off next weekend and being able to partake in a moderate and sensible amount of rum whilst enjoying the game. Go the Reds!