2/3 of the way there....and a false alarm
I feel like an old pro with the radiotherapy now. Today was session 10 of 15. I know the routine. I know how long to hold my breath for, I know that when they are radiating my neck the machine will go for about 20 seconds, then stop for about 3 and then start again for a couple of seconds more so I need to hold my breath for longer and not let it out. I know the staff by name, what to drink and what not to drink from the coffee machine (very important). I know that the doors will beep for a while as the radiotherapists run from the room whilst I am strapped into the machine of torture trying not to get worried. I know the noise that the machine makes when it starts doing its zapping and I can see the internal workings of the machine as it moves and the zapper gets moved into place ready. Despite all of this, there is some bizarre comfort drawn from the familiarity.
The play lists whilst having radiotherapy need some work. I've searched for a Spotify radiotherapy play list but this seems to be a niche market. Already the room is like the worst disco you have even been in sober with red and green lights/laser beams everywhere to make sure I am in the correct position. I found out today that it all actually works on skin contours to make sure you are in exactly the same place. That's pretty special. This weeks playlist have included classical, 80s soft rock (Phil Collins!), Michael Jackson (which instantly made me think of my brother and our 1980s collection of Madonna and Michael Jackson tapes - kids go and look up what tapes are, it will blow your mind) and 90s dance classics (my personal favourite).
There is little to report from the radiotherapy. It's relatively easy, although as it is on my left side, the breath hold to protect my heart and lungs is a bit of a pain. Given the doubt over what is going on with my lungs I often wonder if it won't be good just to give them a little bit of radiation just in case? There are still surprisingly few (read any!) side effects. The area is maybe a little red, but to be honest I have had redder skin after a pretty decent body scrub! I've been warned it may get worse.
There have been a couple of other life events this week (outside of my Birthday). We realised on Tuesday morning that the hamster cage had sadly been left open at some point on Monday and we have had a very tearful girl to contend with. We're not exactly sure where the hamster is, but suspect she has left the house (it was so hot on Monday evening that we had the front door and bi-fold doors open for a while) as food piles in each room haven't been touched. We've managed to convince Briony for now that Toffee the hamster is having great fun playing with all the new friends she has made in the wild. We haven't mentioned that we have the largest population of Red Kites in our local area. Neither Stephen nor I were particular fans of the hamster, but poor Briony is beside herself.
I went to an industry networking event on Wednesday evening, whilst Stephen was attending a talk at the school on how to raise a daughter. We tried not to be offended that they clearly think we need help! Turns out we are doing most things right. Anyway, the industry event was my first toe-dip back into the world of work as at some point I am hopefully looking to return to the wonderful world of work. I was hugely nervous. Our industry is small and I knew that there would be people there who over my 20 years in the industry knew me. I needn't have worried. No one batted an eyelid on my ultra short hair. Either that or they were too polite to say. I did stop the lady who was head of the oncology franchise at the company that my remaining 2 drugs are manufactured by and explain my position and offer to speak to her team about the patient perspective. It was strangely empowering. I drove home feeling weirdly elated that I can still hold a sensible conversation on a work level!
The other appointment on Thursday of this week was with the breast clinic in Wycombe where it all began a little over 6 months ago. I found a(nother) lump in my right breast a couple of weeks ago and so it was straight back to the GP for another referral to the breast clinic. I apologised to the GP for perhaps being paranoid, but she could also feel it. I had desperately hoped she couldn't. Its a bit bizarre that even though I am still being treated you have to go back to square 1 (do not pass go and do not collect £200) if you find another lump. So as you can imagine the last couple of weeks have been a bit of a headfuck and particularly trying as I should not have new lumps at this point, given my recent date with chemotherapy (or ever, thank you very much). Needless to say I hadn't been back since my initial diagnosis, so it was very odd to be back again. The emotions were running high as this was the place where my life changed forever just 6 short months ago. I looked round the packed waiting room and felt a pang of emotion for all the women sitting there and hoping that none of them were the 150 women in the UK who get diagnosed with breast cancer on any given day. At least I knew with some sick sense of certainty that that wasn't going to be my fate this time around. I'd already been dealt that card. Second time around I knew the process. No mammogram this time, straight to ultrasound. It was even in the same ultrasound room as last time. Most women know ultrasounds for pregnancy scans and I lay there thinking about how ultrasounds can bring out the extremes of emotions depending on the news they bring. The silence whilst the sonographer concentrates on the images is awful. As well as the lump in my right breast I have a small lump along the scar line of the mastectomy that has come up in the last couple of weeks. They can't remove all of the tissue with a mastectomy, so a small amount of breast tissue still remains. I've said before that the emotions of all of this hit me at odd times and this was once such time. Tears ran down my face as my emotions got the better of me and I lamented my previous breast-cancer-free life as I lay on the same couch, looking at the same crappy, off-white ceiling tiles waiting to hear my fate. I was so innocent last time round, making inane conversation with the sonographer. I didn't bother this time. Finally the silence was broken. "I don't see anything to worry about". Thank Christ as it really would not have been good news to find something.
To complete the procedure I then saw the surgical team. It's the same consultant's team as I had my operations under privately and the consultant himself only discharged me less than a month ago. I saw one of his juniors. This was fine by me as I know that if it is anything sinister you are seen by either the main man himself or the first understudy, plus a breast care nurse. She confirmed this barely before I had sat down. Again it was in the same room as the diagnosis was confirmed in last time. The sonographers grade what they see on a scale of 1-5 with 1 being normal tissue and 5 being malignant. If you have a mammogram, this is also classified in the same way. The surgical team then palpate the lump and give you yet another 1-5 score. If you have biopsies then (you guessed it) this is another 1-5 score. To give you an indication last time I scored top marks (5) on all of these, meaning that the team all knew that it was malignant pretty much from the first mammogram. This time was a very different story. I was graded as 1 on the right and 2 on the left, with the 2 on the left simply being because I have had recent surgery and have some skin tissues changes from the scar. On the left side, apparently my lumpy boobs have struck again, with the culprit this time being glandular tissue.
I was very apologetic, but the team were all very quick to say that there was no need to apologise as they would really rather be safe than sorry. So my message to you all is if you find a lump then do go to your GP. Sure the waiting for the appointment to come through is awful and it does take an afternoon of your time, but the reassurance is worth it's weight in gold. Take it from someone who now has an experience at both ends of the spectrum. And even if they do find something your chances are much better by finding it and doing something about it sooner..........
There is little to report from the radiotherapy. It's relatively easy, although as it is on my left side, the breath hold to protect my heart and lungs is a bit of a pain. Given the doubt over what is going on with my lungs I often wonder if it won't be good just to give them a little bit of radiation just in case? There are still surprisingly few (read any!) side effects. The area is maybe a little red, but to be honest I have had redder skin after a pretty decent body scrub! I've been warned it may get worse.
There have been a couple of other life events this week (outside of my Birthday). We realised on Tuesday morning that the hamster cage had sadly been left open at some point on Monday and we have had a very tearful girl to contend with. We're not exactly sure where the hamster is, but suspect she has left the house (it was so hot on Monday evening that we had the front door and bi-fold doors open for a while) as food piles in each room haven't been touched. We've managed to convince Briony for now that Toffee the hamster is having great fun playing with all the new friends she has made in the wild. We haven't mentioned that we have the largest population of Red Kites in our local area. Neither Stephen nor I were particular fans of the hamster, but poor Briony is beside herself.
The other appointment on Thursday of this week was with the breast clinic in Wycombe where it all began a little over 6 months ago. I found a(nother) lump in my right breast a couple of weeks ago and so it was straight back to the GP for another referral to the breast clinic. I apologised to the GP for perhaps being paranoid, but she could also feel it. I had desperately hoped she couldn't. Its a bit bizarre that even though I am still being treated you have to go back to square 1 (do not pass go and do not collect £200) if you find another lump. So as you can imagine the last couple of weeks have been a bit of a headfuck and particularly trying as I should not have new lumps at this point, given my recent date with chemotherapy (or ever, thank you very much). Needless to say I hadn't been back since my initial diagnosis, so it was very odd to be back again. The emotions were running high as this was the place where my life changed forever just 6 short months ago. I looked round the packed waiting room and felt a pang of emotion for all the women sitting there and hoping that none of them were the 150 women in the UK who get diagnosed with breast cancer on any given day. At least I knew with some sick sense of certainty that that wasn't going to be my fate this time around. I'd already been dealt that card. Second time around I knew the process. No mammogram this time, straight to ultrasound. It was even in the same ultrasound room as last time. Most women know ultrasounds for pregnancy scans and I lay there thinking about how ultrasounds can bring out the extremes of emotions depending on the news they bring. The silence whilst the sonographer concentrates on the images is awful. As well as the lump in my right breast I have a small lump along the scar line of the mastectomy that has come up in the last couple of weeks. They can't remove all of the tissue with a mastectomy, so a small amount of breast tissue still remains. I've said before that the emotions of all of this hit me at odd times and this was once such time. Tears ran down my face as my emotions got the better of me and I lamented my previous breast-cancer-free life as I lay on the same couch, looking at the same crappy, off-white ceiling tiles waiting to hear my fate. I was so innocent last time round, making inane conversation with the sonographer. I didn't bother this time. Finally the silence was broken. "I don't see anything to worry about". Thank Christ as it really would not have been good news to find something.
To complete the procedure I then saw the surgical team. It's the same consultant's team as I had my operations under privately and the consultant himself only discharged me less than a month ago. I saw one of his juniors. This was fine by me as I know that if it is anything sinister you are seen by either the main man himself or the first understudy, plus a breast care nurse. She confirmed this barely before I had sat down. Again it was in the same room as the diagnosis was confirmed in last time. The sonographers grade what they see on a scale of 1-5 with 1 being normal tissue and 5 being malignant. If you have a mammogram, this is also classified in the same way. The surgical team then palpate the lump and give you yet another 1-5 score. If you have biopsies then (you guessed it) this is another 1-5 score. To give you an indication last time I scored top marks (5) on all of these, meaning that the team all knew that it was malignant pretty much from the first mammogram. This time was a very different story. I was graded as 1 on the right and 2 on the left, with the 2 on the left simply being because I have had recent surgery and have some skin tissues changes from the scar. On the left side, apparently my lumpy boobs have struck again, with the culprit this time being glandular tissue.
I was very apologetic, but the team were all very quick to say that there was no need to apologise as they would really rather be safe than sorry. So my message to you all is if you find a lump then do go to your GP. Sure the waiting for the appointment to come through is awful and it does take an afternoon of your time, but the reassurance is worth it's weight in gold. Take it from someone who now has an experience at both ends of the spectrum. And even if they do find something your chances are much better by finding it and doing something about it sooner..........
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