the aftermath…

me the next day after surgery

 

It’s been a while but I just needed to be me and not the wan who had breast cancer for a while. It had taken over my life a little between the fundraising, the blogging and “boobs on the run” but I’m back now and rearing to go. I need to finish the story for anybody heading into this horrible experience.

 

I slept ok the night of the surgery as I was so out of it from all the drugs, I was propped up on 8 pillows on the last count and basically slept sitting up on my back as I couldn’t move. I was very stiff and sore the next morning but the nurses got me out of bed to shuffle to the bathroom. It really was the same as the aftermath of a C-section really in a different way I suppose. I could barely walk but managed to get to the bathroom and Bruno helped me clean up, no shower allowed because my dressings weren’t waterproof and I got to change into a fresh nightdress. You can only wear buttoned clothing for a few weeks as you can’t lift your arm at all so I had stocked up on cheap buttoned nightdress from Pennys. The physio came to see me that morning and went through all the exercises I had to do to make sure I regained full movement in my arm, she warned me to do them 3 times a day as they are hugely important and I did. I never missed a set, there is 2 lots for the first few weeks and then some for when you have movement back. She also told me to try and walk around the ward as much as I could. I walked the hall the next day and you’d swear I had ran a mile it was so hard, it’s amazing how weak you are after surgery. Having to carry the drain from my wound around with me wasn’t fun either but I pounded(shuffled slowly) around the halls a few times a day for the week I was in, I felt like Rocky, I was going to get back to normal as soon as I could.  The most horrible part for me during these “walks” was feeling like I had a basketball under my armpit, it feels so bulky where they bring the muscle across and you feel like you will never feel normal again but you will…

Everybody kept commenting on how well I looked, I was so focused on just getting better and so relieved to have the goddamn traitor boob gone, in a way I was on cloud 9. In my mind I was just so happy to have “woken up alive” from surgery and for everything to have gone ok. I was terrified of anything jeopardizing my recovery tho and was terrified of getting an infection so I was a bit anal about my drain, every time it stopped draining I was ringing the bell to get it checked, they are a nuisance as it kept having to be changed as the little pump stopped working. I also helped it along by pushing the fluid through regularly as I couldn’t go home until the drain was out. The staff in the Bons were so fantastic, my pain relief was on time and I was regularly told to let them know if I had any pain and they would give me something straight away. I mentioned I couldn’t wash my hair so a fabulous nurse called Aisling washed and blow-dried my hair for me twice, this is me 2 days after the surgery feeling like a million dollars after getting it done, I had to wear the fabulous white socks too as I was in the bed a lot so they used to bathe my feet for me. Sure why would I want to go home:)

Everything went pretty smoothly for the week, my Dr came to see me every day and was delighted with my recovery, he said I was recovering unusually fast. I still hadn’t seen the boob as it was covered in dressings but it seemed ok, the worst thing probably was the smell from the area, it was horrible and lasted about a month. The tightness across the back, arm, shoulder and boob is pretty uncomfortable but this all eases with time too…

I basically spent the week watching daytime tv, sleeping, doing my exercises, walking the halls and deciding what to eat for my next meal. The Bons is such a fabulous hospital, you can only recover there, the feeling of peace and tranquility there is so lovely and I really felt relaxed and that I was in great care so I flew through the recovery. I spent a lot of time on face-time with the girls in Limerick, they came to visit me on the Tues but Sofia wouldn’t come near me, she found it all very strange and stayed with daddy which was fine, I didn’t get upset or anything as it was all very different for her and I was just focusing on getting better to get home. I didn’t get upset once after my surgery, after the months of worry and stress I just felt so relaxed and happy to be out the other side. The pain or immobility didn’t bother me, I knew it was short term and soon life would be back to normal. The only thing that became bothersome alright was the drain, it started to pull on the skin at the opening so it got quite sore and had just started to get infected a little when it was removed. I had been dreading the removal to be honest as I had read all the horror stories on google, the nurse gave me pain relief about half an hour beforehand and then removed and changed my dressings and then I got prepared for the removing of it, closed my eyes, grimaced and then……NOTHING!!! I didn’t feel a thing but the relief in it being out I can’t even explain, you’re free again and I was back to being me.

I left the hospital exactly a week after surgery with a prescription for pain relief and 2 straight jackets, sorry I mean recovery bras. These things are horrific, the first one I had was too small and I could hardly breathe in it and the bigger one wasn’t much better, they are so tight and uncomfortable but so important for shape that I just got on with it. You get a lighter one for night time which I used to have to change into by 6pm as I couldn’t put up with the other one any longer, the relief when you take it off. Bruno and Alessia came to collect me with 4 pillows as we had to drive from Galway to Limerick which wasn’t going to be easy so I had one in front under the seatbelt, 2 behind and 1 to the side. It’s very hard to describe leaving a hospital after a week if you haven’t experienced it, you’re like a caged bird as I hadn’t left my ward for 8 days, it’s a strange feeling. You’ve been in a little bubble of hell while the rest of the world just got on with it, nothing had changed outside my hospital room but I had and my life would be changed forever. The drive home wasn’t too bad thanks to the motorway so there wasn’t too many bumps.

It was great to arrive home, I was weak as water and very uncomfortable, they had a fabulous little welcome home party for me just the girls and my mother so we all had tea and cake, the little faces on the 2 girls was heartbreaking, they were just so happy to have me home, they didn’t quite understand what was going on but could tell it was all very serious. I took up position on the couch with my 5 pillows and basically stayed there and recovered. Sleeping at night is probably the hardest part of the recovery as you are on your back on lots of pillows for a couple of weeks, Bruno had to wash my hair for me too for about a month as your arm is very stiff and it’s impossible to do it yourself, you are in a lot of pain for the initial couple of weeks but I had lots of pain killers and made sure I took them. I did my physio exercises religiously and this really stood to me as I have no issues with my arm now at all. I had to go back to Galway a week later to get the scar site drained on my back, again there was nothing to this even though Google said otherwise.

Once I got the dressings removed I got to see the new boob and you know what it was perfect. I couldn’t give a damn what it looked like, after being through so much you hate everything it stands for so I wasn’t going to waste any more energy on it, as long as I looked ok in my clothes that’s all that mattered to me. I was putting it all behind me and moving on, we went to a wedding a few weeks after the surgery, I bought myself a new dress, got the hair done and off I went, I felt different of course, I still wasn’t back and ended up in bed at 10pm. We headed off for a night in Mount Juliet in November and it was great to be me again…

By Christmas I was back to me which was about 10 weeks, it definitely takes a good 2-3 months to recover and about 4 months before you start forgetting about the stiffness in your arm and the pulling on your back, it just becomes normal then and you don’t even think about it anymore.  THE FEAR on the other hand never leaves and becomes your new reality, I’ll speak about this in more detail in another post. Once I started to feel normal again I wanted to take control back in some way and decided to start running in January, I downloaded the Get Running App and off I went and was running 5k 7 weeks later by the time I had my 4 month check up.

Life was different but it was going to continue…

What Mother’s Day Means to Me…

 

It means a hell of a lot actually and this year it will mean so much more.  I’m a 38 year old mom of 2 girls, Alessia and Sofia, they are 7 and nearly 2. I adore them, don’t get me wrong they drive me crazy too and there is no nicer time in the day than that moment after they have gone to bed and you fall down on the couch and enjoy the peace and quiet. They are 2 strong willed little madams which is a direct result of a combination of their Italian blood and the stubbornness of their mother, a lethal combination, a difficult path to follow and a lot of time spent on the bold step(the 2 year old hasn’t been introduced yet but it is very close) but I wouldn’t change it for the world.

I decided when I turned 30 it was time to start having children, we had our own business, had bought a house, the late nights out were beginning to bore so we were ready. It didn’t take long before we were pregnant, I had an amazing pregnancy, I was one of those annoying ones who flew through it beaming and glowing like a lampshade with not a bit of morning sickness, rushing off to my pregnancy yoga, making my little videos for my little one when she arrived, we had her named and everything in advance after finding out what we were having, we told everybody, I couldn’t wait to meet this little person. Yep I’m even annoying myself now at the thought of “me”. I had bonded with her before she even got here, I was so excited. I couldn’t wait! I had no fear of the birth, it was going to be amazing, we were going to look into each other’s eyes after an epidural and a few pushes and it was going to be love at first sight.

So it didn’t quite go like that, after an induction at 39 weeks, 24 hours of labour,  4 epidural top-ups that didn’t really work, an emergency section under General Anaesthetic , a 10 pound baby, a massive bleed afterwards, a D&C under General Anaesthetic an hour later, a night in special care, an attempt at breastfeeding but was too weak to even hold her, a rush to Limerick Regional Hospital on a Sat night with a suspected clot in the lung, left in A&E for 4 hours, admitted for 3 nights waiting for a scan on my lung because it was the weekend, my baby left in the Limerick Maternity in the Neo section looking like a monster at 10lbs, receiving photographs of her(no smart phones back then) crying uncontrollably on the other side of the city because I couldn’t even hold my new baby, transferred back to the Maternity with an infection that nobody could fix, black and blue from giving bloods every time I got a temperature and eventually getting an antibiotic that fixed the infection and an iron transfusion to try and help me get out of the bed and eventually getting home after 2 weeks with my new little bundle of joy.

Once home and taking a couple of months to recover it was a real struggle, this wasn’t how I imagined it. I found it very hard getting over the trauma of the whole birth and it took me a couple of months to build my strength back up, it seemed she did too so we were both a bit grumpy for a while but good god I loved her so much probably a bit too much after everything we had gone through and I was a bit of a controlling mom, crying when she hadn’t pooed, crying when she had pooed too much, I was a mess but things got easier as time went on and I felt I had found where I was supposed to be in life, I was meant to be a mom but I was no way ready to have another one for a long time. That time came when she reached 3, I presumed there would be no problem having number 2, how wrong I was…

I got pregnant straight away and miscarried at 6 weeks, then got pregnant straight away again and then miscarried at 12 weeks. I then found out I had a thyroid problem which was a result of my first pregnancy and this had to be treated before I would be able to get pregnant. It took a year of trying after that, these 2 years were undoubtedly the darkest and hardest of my life even darker than my most recent events (that story to follow) I wanted nothing more than a sibling for my first, I was consumed by it, I saw pregnant people everywhere, I looked enviously at other families with more than one and looked curiously at families of one wondering were they going through the same thing as us. I put on weight, I comfort ate, my life was put on hold until I got pregnant, I was giving it until Sept and then I was taking it further and lo and behold I got pregnant in July. I never once got excited by the pregnancy, I was completely detached for the whole thing, I just didn’t believe I was actually going to meet her, I was terrified it wasn’t going to happen and then it did and she was perfect, she was here and she was all mine.

She was the best baby ever, she started sleeping the night at 6 weeks, she just slept and ate. It was like she was supposed to just slip into our lives and just be a part of it and complete it. Her arrival wasn’t all fluffy clouds either as the oldest was heartbroken. She had spent 5.5 years as a family of 3 and now there was a new addition. She really struggled for the first few months and it wasn’t a jealousy thing, the life she knew and loved had been ripped apart, we were very close and had done everything together and now there was another person a part of that but as time went on and Sofia got bigger and cuter she fell head over heels in love with her and they became the best of friends. We had the perfect life, our family was complete, those dark days were gone, I had me back, I lost all of the baby weight and enjoyed and appreciated everything I had and then it all changed…

I noticed a little bit of pain in my right breast when Sofia was 6 months old, I have always been meticulous about checking my breasts but I hadn’t for a while because I just wanted to enjoy my life after everything we had gone through, I didn’t want to find anything and for there to be worry and anxiety as I had found lumps before and all had been ok but each time you find one you feel sick to your stomach. I couldn’t ignore it though, so I went to my GP to be checked and she didn’t think there was anything wrong but said she’d send me for a mammogram. To make a long story short while waiting for the mammogram after seeing the Breast Consultant and him thinking there was nothing wrong either but sent me for one just in case, I got a lump in my left breast. After lots of tests and a very tough few months of worry and anxiety (you can read all about it on the blog www.healthyfitbella.wordpress.com) I was diagnosed with Early Breast Cancer and had a mastectomy just last October.

So the question was “What does Mother’s day mean to me?” Well this year it means I am here. It means my 2 beautiful daughters still have a mother to wake them up every morning, make their lunch for school, bring them to ballet, do their homework with them, choose their outfits for parties, put French plaits in their hair, bake with them on Sunday nights, go shopping for new shoes, soothe them when they’re sick when only mommy hugs will do…

I remember when the Breast Cancer nurse brought me to a room after my diagnosis I just looked at her with tears in my eyes and said but “I have 2 young girls”. The whole time through my diagnosis and treatment I hardly cried, the day I bawled my eyes out was the day I left 2 beautiful little innocent teary faces in Limerick when I had to go to Galway for 8 days to remove my breast. I didn’t give a damn about the boob but I was heartbroken that they had to be without their mom and everybody said oh they’ll be fine but they weren’t, their “miss” was huge. I wasn’t there and I’m always there. Since the day they were born they are my everything(ok I’m crying now) and I can’t bare to think that they would ever have to be without me, I have picked up my life  where I left off and haven’t given a 2^nd thought to the bitch that is Breast Cancer, my whole motivation now is to do everything I can to make sure I’m around for a very long time to see my girls grow up and be here for a lot of mother’s days, they need their mom more than anything. I recovered really well from my surgery and luckily I don’t have to have any more treatment, I started running in Jan and hope to complete the 10k in the Great Limerick Run in May. Life goes on, I wake up every morning to their smiling faces, I love watching them grow and mature, they have become the best of friends even though the small one is turning into a right bully but the sounds of laughter in our house is the main sound you hear every day. I do hug them a little tighter every night as you never know what is around the corner; all I want & wish for them is for me to be here. People tell me I’m so brave, there’s nothing brave about me, I just have to get on with it, there is 2 very special people depending on it…

 

I wrote this recently for EUMOM…

 

L x

D-Day!!

The day finally came, I slept ok surprisingly, a strange calm descended on me, there was no going back now I suppose so it was out of my hands and I just had to get on with it. My biggest problem was my eldest, she was so upset that I was going to be gone for so long. I set her up on my iPad so that she could text me whenever she wanted, I regretted this later when she actually stalked me but I thought it might help knowing she had direct access to me. I decided to bring her to school because she was so upset, this was a bad idea. She started bawling in the line, remember when I said I hadn’t cried much, well I made up for lost time from here on in. Once I saw her crying that was it I started and of course I bloody forgot my sunglasses the one day I needed them. Her teacher took her out of the line, she saw her crying, she saw me crying, nobody knew of course what was going on. I just told her through my sobs in the yard that I was going to hospital for the week and to look after her. My friend Clarice was waiting for me and we walked out together with me sobbing my little heart out. I headed home, packed up my bag and my parents arrived. It was all very surreal going through everything with them for the week, I still rem them standing in the driveway as we drove off all worried and upset, it was like a scene from a movie. The journey to Galway was the quietest one we have ever done, (photo above) I shed a few tears on the way mainly to be leaving the girls and the fear of the surgery and something going wrong. I didn’t give a damn about the traitor boob but what if something happened during surgery and I bled to death on the operating table, yes dramatic I know but this is what goes through your mind.

We arrived in the Bons and headed into reception, that was it, reality hit, I started bawling, I couldn’t even speak to the receptionist, she had to bring me into the office and Bruno had to go through everything with her. I just felt so sorry for myself that I had to leave my lovely family for a week and that there was 2 small girls left crying in Limerick over my goddamn traitor boob. I was too young to be going through this shit, I got shown to my room and I continued crying. The nurses came in straight away, they were so lovely, they were all around my own age and I could see they felt so sorry for me and a bit scared too that the reality was sitting in a bed in front of them that anybody can get Breast Cancer and it doesn’t discriminate. They let me cry away for a while and then came back to go though the details. First up I got my little menu and ordered my tea, then I had to do my bloods and stats and then my BC nurse came to visit to try on the straight jacket sorry bra I had to wear after surgery. She went through everything with me again about what would happen and answered all my questions. She was heading off for the week which was a bit of a balls as I would have loved for her to be there as she was a great support but I was a last min case, there aren’t many Breast Cancer patients in the Bons so I would have felt better having her around for my recovery but the nurses there were fantastic anyway.

I eventually stopped crying and myself and himself watched a bit of telly and I got a load of texts from family & friends so I was kept busy for the evening. Of course I had to google everything that can go wrong with this type of surgery too and had myself scared shitless by the time my Dr came that night. He popped in around 8pm just to check up on me and answer any questions I had, I asked him about complications and things that can go wrong and he told me there are always risks to every surgery but looked me in the eye and told me he would take good care of me. I knew he would but christ I was still scared. Funny how this is his day job and he does it day in day out and for me it was going to be the worst day of my life and WHAT IF I DIED??? I know a bit dramatic but I was going to be under for 4 hours and things can go wrong, GOOGLE said so…

I had some brown bread & tea around 11 as I had to fast after 12 and himself headed away,he was staying in the hotel across the road, the nurse offered me a sleeping tablet but I thought I’d be ok, I should have taken it as I didn’t sleep great but sure I’d be going for a long sleep the next day anyway. They woke me at around 6.30am the next morning and I had a shower and put on my lovely gown, I was sooooooooo nervous. The feeling of dread before surgery is horrible, I was in bits. Bruno arrived over after 7 and we headed down to theatre, I cried the whole way, I cried sitting outside waiting, I nearly hung onto Bruno’s leg when we had to say goodbye, the only thing that stopped me was my gown and exposing myself to the whole world, I cried walking down to the theatre with my nurse, I cried lying waiting on the operating theatre waiting for the staff. The Anesthetist arrived eventually and saw the state I was in “today isn’t a good day for you is it, I think we need to give you a little G&T”, YES, how did he know, with lime please. My little G&T did the trick, next thing I heard was “have you any pain love”? I woke up in recovery absolutely out of it, I had a bit of pain in my arm and I was trying to rate it from 1-10 and getting an aul morphine top-up each time. I heard the nurse ask another nurse should she give me more morphine, G’WAN SURE!!The Anesthetist and my Dr both popped in to see how I was and told me everything went great, I was in recovery for 2 hours, took me a while to come round. Poor Bruno it was nearly harder for him, I had been gone for 6 hours. I was wheeled back to the room eventually zonked out but feeling ok, I didn’t care what happened after that, thank FXXK I was alive. My BC nurse popped into see me before she went away and said everything had gone great and my Dr was really pleased with it.

I had a morphine ball hanging off a line inserted into the base of my neck, life was good, I had a bit of pain I was quite groggy for a few hours and dosed in and out of sleep, I had a drain coming out of the site in my back. I had a peek at the boob and it was covered in dressings but it looked good to me. I perked up around 8pm and got the wonderful tea and toast and had a look at all the messages on my phone. Everybody was so worried especially my sisters so I text them around 9.30 just to put them out of their misery:)

Never lose your sense of humour, it will get you through everything, even when you have to use the bedpan later that night and your pee is green from the dye inserted into the nipple and you can’t do it when there are 2 nurses in the room with you running the water in the bathroom and everything, they had to leave me in peace for a few minutes and I rang my bell when the duty was done. TMI for you? I apologise but that’s the reality of it:)

The Big Decision…

So Monday came, neither of us said a word the whole way to Galway, there was an inevitability that day I suppose, we would find out once and for all what was going to happen. I can’t say I wasn’t nervous, fxxk there was a chance it was going to be confirmed I had cancer and it had spread and my life was going to change forever. There was only 1 lady in the waiting room when we got there so it obviously wasn’t his usual day there and we were “special cases”, I now know she was probably getting her dressings changed or looked at. He was on his way out with his other patient and this is where it really shone through what a fabulous Dr he was, rather than let us wait there worrying and wondering what the results were until he came back, he stopped and put us out of our misery and just said “nothing has changed, the biopsy results are the same”, smiled and said he’d talk to us further when he came back. Oh my god I have never been so relieved in my life, I didn’t care what happened after that it was still pre-cancer.

He went through everything in detail with us when he got back and told me again how rare it was that all the biopsies were still showing this but that there still could be something in there but if there was it was so tiny so he was happy to just go ahead and take it out. He explained my 2 options for me, I could have a lumpectomy as the area was very contained and there was no little spiders or didn’t seem to be any other area affected but that because the lump was 4cm and they have to get clear margins of 2cm he would have to remove an area of 6cm and although as lovely as mine are(he didn’t say that of course) they’re not huge by any means so I’d basically be left with half a boob so I would require some sort of implant anyway PLUS this was the biggie for me I would have a 30% chance of recurrence. He used this scale(can’t rem the name) which basically calculates the risk, age, size of lump bla bla out of 10 and I scored 9. So this brought us on to my 2nd option a plain and simple mastectomy and that if he could save the nipple he would, they would test it while I was under to see if there was any cells there. He told me I didn’t have to decide there and then but that he was going to do it on Friday whatever I decided. Damn it was back in my court again, I nearly would have preferred him to just say I had to have it. There really wasn’t a choice either but there still was if that makes sense, me and Google were going to become very good friends over the next couple of days.

My BC nurse brought me into her office then to go through my different reconstruction options and explained to me that his speciality was the LD FLap and had done a lot of these surgeries and had great results. She gave me a few different books with photos of the different procedures and the results, all through this I was nodding away but still not believing it was happening to me. She told me if I wanted to speak to anybody who had any of the procedures done it was no problem. I said I was ok but asked her the most important question about injecting that die through the nipple without anesthetic and she replied, “sure why would we do that, that will be done when you’re asleep” THANK YOU LORD!!! That’s exactly what I thought, I could have kissed her, I didn’t of course. She said she’d give me until Weds to decide what I was doing re surgery and what type of reconstruction I was having. I booked in with the receptionist then to arrive on Thurs at 3 pm and my surgery would be first thing Fri morning whatever I decided. I asked her about a private room as my policy only covered semi-private and I really didn’t want to have to be sociable and she said no problem and that it would only be an extra €70 a night. You’d pay more than that when you go on holidays so decision was made, I’d be in for a couple of nights if I only had lumpectomy but if mastectomy it would be 5-7 nights until my drains were out as they didn’t want me going home to young kids with them.

That Tuesday was hell, I was so torn, I kept changing my mind about what I was going to do, the whole pre-cancer thing kept hopping into my mind every time I decided to have a mastectomy, was I mad getting rid of a perfectly good boob just in case there was cancer in there. Of course Google didn’t help and all the articles on the over-treatment of DCIS and Stage 0 cancer and the unnecessary mastectomies as treatment. The decision on reconstruction was a tough 1 too, there was 2 options..

1. simple implants. The problem here was that I was only getting 1 breast done and although this is by far the easiest surgery I would look like a page 3 model on 1 side and regular ole me on the other so this wasn’t an option.

2. Using tissue from your own body and there are 3 options in this too..

Tram Flap, Diep Flap, LD Flap but the problem here was that I had had 2 C-sections so it wasn’t an option for me to use my stomach even though an aul tummy tuck would have been a bonus so I had to go for a back tuck instead:)

I was going to have a scar on my back but really who cared, it would only be visible in a bikini. It wasn’t going to be a walk in the park either, the surgery would take 3-5 hours so I was pretty nervous about that so I kept swinging back to lumpectomy. I called over to my friend and neighbour for a coffee on the Tues with my big stressed head and she basically said what I knew I had to do anyway, “If it was me I’d get rid of it” and I knew I would have given her the same advice. The risk of recurrence just wasn’t worth it, I would worry about it forever. It had betrayed me once, it could easily do it again. I made the final decision that night after lots of agonising, I’d have to have the Mastectomy. My BC nurse rang me the Weds morning when I was at the school after dropping off my oldest and I told her my decision and I’d see her the next day. I sat there in the car looking at all the other moms heading home living their normal lives and there was I confirming to my dr to take my breast. It was all very surreal….

The 2nd Opinion…

Wednesday finally came, I was looking forward to heading to Galway, I’m a bit mad, everywhere I go is defined by where I eat or can have a good coffee so I was delighted the Bons Secours hospital was near The G so we’d get to have a treat while up there, it’s the important things you know. I had researched the Bons and The Galway Clinic online, I wasn’t quite sure which one I would have my surgery in, I thought my DR worked in both at the time(he doesn’t) so I decided to pop into the Galway Clinic on the way for a gawk, this whole fancy private hospital was a new thing for me as we don’t have it in Limerick so I was curious to see what they were like. Yes normally I would be checking out restaurants when we travel, now I was checking out hospitals, how life had changed. Bru dropped me off at The Galway Clinic and I popped in, wow is all I can say, they have a piano in the foyer, who knew hospitals could be like this. The Galway Clinic was very cool, buzzy and quite a sociable feel to it, I know, strange way to describe a hospital but the minute we drove into the Bons, I felt it, it was so quiet and serene. The   feeling of relief I felt when I walked through the door, yes this was the place. Now this might all sound a bit strange to you but for me the most important thing for me to get through this was to trust and feel comfortable in my environment and I knew I had made the right decision to cancel my surgery the minute I walked in even before I met the consultant.

Prof Kerin’s rooms were out the back in the consultants building. Again even the lovely waiting room made me feel more at ease and the fabulous secretary Rita greeting me with a big smile and knowing straight away it was me after speaking with me on the phone on Monday. I know this can’t be done in the Public System and I know I’m lucky to have private health insurance and it should be the same for everybody but unfortunately it’s not and these are the little things that make all the difference to somebody when they’re going through an ordeal like this, you just want to be known as Lorraine and not as Patient No xxxx. I only had to wait about 15 mins to see the Professor which I couldn’t believe, I was straight in like a bullet, I don’t think he knew what had walked through the door. I shook his hand and sat down ready for business, I was a woman on a mission, enough of the shxt now l just wanted to be fixed. He pulled out my file and put my MRI scan and my mammogram pictures up on his computer. I hadn’t even seen these and it was great to actually see what was inside my body. He asked me to tell him the whole story, so I went back to the start and told him everything. He was still looking at me like I was a bit mad, and said he’d like to examine me himself which he did, I could see the look on his face when he felt under my arm because he could feel something. I told him I had just had the node biopsy the week before and it had been very sore but I could see the concern in his face. We sat down and he came straight out and said “I think you might have a small cancer and it might have spread to your lymph node. Oooooookay not what I was expecting. He went onto say that he’d have to do his own biopsy to determine if anything had changed since my previous one and that the chances of it being DCIS(pre-cancer) was only 3%. Shxt it wasn’t looking good but it was okay the place was lovely, he was lovely, the receptionist was lovely, I bet they had lovely rooms, hey I even heard there was a menu, if I did have it at least I was in the right place so I’d get through it so I was fine, no tears, no nothing, we’d get through it, I made a couple of jokes so he was still looking at me a little strange, I was probably a little too upbeat for somebody who had just been told she might have a small cancer but for me the unknown and worry had gone on for so long I was over it, it was time to get things done and deal with it…

I went through to the “biopsy room” if you will with my lovely BC nurse Catherine and assumed she would do it but he actually came in and did it himself. We had a bit of a chat about what I did etc and he spoke to me like a person not a patient and he told me I was obviously approaching this whole thing like I approach my business, he was fabulous, he had such a great manner and made me feel so at ease and I knew there and then that he would take good care of me and no matter what happened I was in the right place and had made the right decision to get a second opinion. He biopsied both the lump and my node again and gave me a little hope then by saying “maybe it is still DCIS and you are one of the 3%”. He marked it urgent and sent it straight over to the lab and made an appointment for me to come back on the Monday for the results and then we’d make a decision from there. I spoke with him about reconstruction and he said there was no way he would let a 38 year old young woman walk out of there with no breast. I left on a high, everything was going to be okay. Of course I was worried that the lump had changed to a small cancer and it was a huge worry if it had travelled but what could I do to change that. The only thing I could do in the whole situation was to take control and make sure I was in a place where I felt I would get the best care, I had done that so there was nothing more I could do about the eventual outcome, that was all up to him & fate so I felt kind of free if that makes sense, I had done my part.

I felt pretty good that week, my sister travelled over from the UK and told us she was pregnant with her second child which was great news, we went out for a family meal on the Sat night as a farewell to the boob if it was leaving us. My other sister wrote a little poem about it…

These boobs they come in manys a shape,

Some big, some small, some huge,

But the nicest boobs that e’er I did see,

Are the ones that are stuck right on me,

What folly is this I hear you say,

I thought twas mine this ode would portray ,

And yes my dear you’re right, speak true,

As there are no lovelier boobs than you

Yours tell a tale of a brave lovely soul,

Who had a sick boob which did take it’s toll,

On your health and your wealth and your everyday life,

So it was decided to remove all this strife

Off to the Doctor you did proceed,

To remove said boob and replace it with ease,

Now you have 2 once more you see,

But the moral is this as it only could be…

Tis not the boob makes the woman

But the heartbeat beneath,

And the fairest of hearts that God did bequeath,

Was upon you my dear and I’ll gladly say,

Fair well to the boob but with us YOU shall stay….

Thank you Caroline xxx

I enjoyed my last weekend as “me” because no matter what the outcome I was going to be different whether it was full mastectomy & new boob or partial  with half a boob and I had made peace with that. I still dreaded the thought of having Chemo which would have been a definite if the lump had changed to cancer but I couldn’t change any of that, I had lived a healthy lifestyle, been pro-active about checking, found it early, transferred to a place I felt I would get the best care for me so what would be would be….

“that” weekend…

I spent all day that Saturday on the internet looking at photos of what I was going to be like without a breast, it wasn’t pretty, I still couldn’t get my head around it, to be honest I still didn’t believe it was going to happen. It was pretty tough, there was no getting away from it, as positive as I am I was going to struggle with losing it. Actually it wasn’t the losing it, I had no love left for this traitor boob, it was the fact that I was going to wake up bare. The hardest part of it all was that was I getting rid of my breast in case there was cancer in there, all tests still showed that it was pre-cancer and it wasn’t in stone that it would even turn to full blown cancer in the future so this was a struggle in my head, was I doing the right thing? To be honest out of everything my biggest fear was that it was going to change me, I’m a bit of a strange fish, I like who I am, I’m not perfect nor do I expect to be, I couldn’t give a crap about body image, I’m not somebody who stands in front of the mirror focusing in on my post 2 pregnancies belly, my thighs that could tone up a bit, saggy arms bla bla bla, once I’m slim and healthy I only see the end result and I’m happy with that but this was something much bigger, I was losing a part of me…

I worried about himself too, I should probably give you a little bit of background on us, we’re one of those annoying couples, we get on fantastically well, we never fight and I mean never, it’s probably because we’re very different but have the same attitude to life, work, family. I’m the loud mouth and he’s the quieter one but it’s not a case of me wearing the trousers either, we are both very strong and it just works. We actually met when I was 18 and he was 17 in a local nightclub, I had been on a school tour in Italy when I was 15 and swore then that I would marry an Italian. I must have had my Italian radar on because I spotted him the minute he walked through the door. I didn’t manage to make an impression that night but learned through the girl who did(biatch) that his name was David and he was 22 and in UCC so imagine my surprise when I saw him walking into college on my first day in Tralee the following Sept and his name was Bruno and he was 18, smooth! I wish I could tell you it was love at first sight on his part, it was the farthest from it, I literally had to hound him down and it took a year but as I said in my last post I always go after things that I set my mind to so he didn’t have a chance really;)We’ve been together now for nearly 20 years and have never got married, neither of us are bothered with the whole marriage thing even though I have been tempted a few times over the years for tax purposes…

I cried a few tears on the Saturday but got pretty upset that night on the couch as I didn’t want this to change us, we are so good and I knew he wouldn’t care but as a woman you still worry, I was going to be different and there was no getting away from that. I needn’t have worried, he was straight over telling me not to be silly, we’d get through this and it wasn’t going to change us, we’d been through so much together and one small thing like a boob wasn’t going to interfere with the great life we have, I knew all of this but just needed the reassurance, I had a good old cry, felt a bit sorry for myself, had a beer and felt much better…

We went to the Mother in Law’s as usual on Sunday, everybody was very subdued, we were all losing a boob, I had a cry, they had a cry, the traitor boob had a cry, we had an espresso and just talked about it all round the table, ok I  lie the FIL dissapeared as soon as the word boob was mentioned. My sister-in-law mentioned about her friend who I had spoken to a week before who talked about a professor in Galway named Michael Kerin who she had been to and found very good.  I had forgotten about him again and it got me thinking maybe I needed a second opinion and it would be no harm to ring and have a chat with him. I googled his name and saw that he was a leading Professor in Breast Cancer and even had a research team in Galway but the thing that really stood out for me is that he strongly believed in reconstruction and mastectomy done together in the one operation especially in younger women. What also sealed the deal for me was the fancy pictures of the Bon Secours hospital in Galway, yes I like my comforts and I’m a big believer in positive mind and healing power, if I was to get through this I knew where I healed would be very important and it transpired it was and made a huge difference. I spent that evening searching and reading articles about him and made my mind up there and then, that was it, I needed to be in Galway but there was just one small issue, I had my pre-ops the next morning and surgery on the Wednesday.

My SIL rang her friend who rang  Galway first thing Monday morning and the secretary rang me back around 9.30, I explained my situation to her and that I was really concerned about cancelling my surgery and could she guarantee me I would have it the following week. She said they could but I had to see the Professor and be assessed etc so it was up to me to make the big decision about cancelling my cancer surgery and that it wasn’t an easy one. She said she’d get the BC nurse to ring me back as soon as she could and made an appointment for me for the Weds at 7pm, he was full but she’d squeeze me in. I didn’t think twice about it, I needed a 2nd opinion and if the outcome was the same at least I had the comfort of knowing I had done the right thing. See, control freak:)

I rang my BC nurse in Limerick and she was lovely and told me I had to do what was best for me and that she’d cancel it and get my file together for me to bring to Galway on Weds. Then the phone calls started, everybody began to panic, “LORRAINE HAS CANCELLED HER CANCER SURGERY, NOBODY CANCELS CANCER SURGERY!!!” My MIL got the family dr to ring me to make sure I was doing the right thing because the surgeon in Limerick was very good and maybe I was making a mistake, after speaking to him for 5 mins he told me I could probably educate most GP’s on the whole thing I was so informed and that he had no doubt I was doing what was best for me. Everybody calmed down after a while, I breathed a sigh of relief I got to hang onto Traitor Boob for at least another week.

I couldn’t wait until Wednesday to meet this guy in Galway…

We have to take your breast on Wednesday…

So Sept 27th eventually came. The wait this time wasn’t as bad in the waiting room but they brought a good few of us downstairs together so myself and himself ended up sitting on the stairs, not the best place to leave somebody sitting while waiting to find out if they’ve cancer, welcome to the health system in Ireland. My Breast Cancer Nurse came down the stairs and gave me a chirpy “hi Lorraine”, everybody looked at me with the look “aha she’s been here before”. To be honest it struck me that she remembered me so well and on a first name basis,  fxck it anyway I knew there was trouble ahead. We got called in eventually and the consultant came straight to it

“Lorraine we have lots to talk about today”

My stomach actually sunk to the ground, I felt sick. I had hoped he was going to tell me everything was ok, it’s just pre-cancer, we’ll take out the lump and bobs your uncle but I knew it was more. He started off, you came in with pain in your right breast bla bla bla bla(read previous blogposts) your node biopsy came back clear so nothing has travelled( breathes a sigh of relief) but this lump has grown from 2cm to 4cm in a very short time so we’re going to have to take your breast and I’d like to do it next Weds, it was Fri. To say I was shocked was an understatement, I hadn’t really expected it to come to this. The worst part of the whole thing was then he went onto say that I wouldn’t be able to have reconstruction for 18 months because they had to do the pathology test on the tissue to see what they were dealing with because he felt there could be more going on in there than pre-cancer and they needed to see what further treatment I would need and radiotherapy etc can’t be done on a reconstructed boob so I had no choice. I think the fact that I was going to wake up with no boob was a bigger shocker than the mastectomy. He told me I would only have to stay in 1 night and then I would be sent home the next day. He then asked me did I want to see what he was going to do and got out his little blue marker and did a little diagram on my traitor boob to show me what he was going to cut away, cheers for that. Looking back I don’t think there was a need for this, I know it’s the reality of it but it’s a bit cruel. There was no empathy in that room except from my BC nurse in the corner. He was very matter of fact, he even told me “this isn’t going to kill you,you know and you’re very lucky”, ok…em cheers for that. I’m still a 38 year old women that’s going to wake up one boob less and was still none the wiser what lay ahead of me in terms of chemo and radiotherapy, I was going to have to wait another 2-3 weeks after the op for the results…

He asked me did I consent to him doing the surgery on Weds as he’d like to get it out sooner than later and sure of course I did, I wanted the fecker out that might try to kill me. My BC nurse brought us to a little room down the hall with tea and coffee, the finding out you’ve cancer room if you will, she was so lovely. I was actually ok, I was kind of glad things were being done now and there was no more waiting and hanging around so there was no tears. I made a few jokes, she looked at me like I was mental and asked me was I really ok? I told her I genuinely was, I tried to explain to her in the grand scheme of things this wasn’t the worst news ever, if he had told me I was going to die that would be the worst news ever so for me I’d get through this. I told her I had a fabulous life and I wanted to continue living that and let’s get on with it and do this. I should probably explain what kind of person I am, I live my life, I don’t complain, I don’t moan, I don’t sweat the small things, if something is wrong I fix it, I’m a bit of a control freak to be honest too..

I’m the one who at 13 after just starting my first job I told my boss after 3 weeks I was going to a shop up the road because he was only paying me 75p an hour and the other crowd would pay me £1 an hour(he told me I would go far in life and it was the first time anybody had quit)

I’m the one who worked from age 13 every weekend and full time every summer through school to help my family…

I’m the one who paid herself through college and worked 2 jobs at one stage and 3 while saving for Australia, I’m the one who dragged himself off to Australia when he was only 18 before anyone else was going and his mother didn’t sleep for a year..

I’m the one who quit a permanent job in the bank after 6 months for a high-flying sales job back when nobody quit a permanent job in the bank..

I’m the one who lied to get the sales job and said I could drive and then had to take 20 lessons and actually pass my test in 6 weeks and then pick up a brand new Golf in Tipperary and drive it back to Limerick behind my new boss when I had never stepped into another car besides the instructors car…(I have never been so shxtless in my life)

I’m the one who bought a house in my early 20’s…

I’m the one who quit the very well paid high flying sales job to open my own business at 27(I looked 18) and everybody used to ask me for the owner..

I’m also the one who never franchised out La Cucina even when I knew I could and could have become very rich because I knew I wouldn’t be able to drop my kids to school and tuck them into bed every night and live my life the way I wanted…

I’m the one where living life is more important than money and wants to continue living it for a very long time…

(disclaimer – I do still like money tho;))

So you kind of get how I think, if something is wrong I take control and fix it so yes I was in a shxt situation but hey it could still be worse. She showed me the prosthesis bra I would have to wear and how they had come a long way and there was now bikinis and swimsuits etc, it all seemed a bit surreal to be honest. She explained how the operation would go and how they were going to inject some blue dye into my nipple beforehand to find the sentinel node under the arm which still had to be checked even though the biopsy was clear. I asked her would there be an anaesthetic and she said no, WHAT??? I was more worried about this then than anything, I then went onto ask her where would I be after the op, I had to deal with waking up with no boob so I presumed I’d have a private room or at least be in a room with other women in a similar situation and she looked sadly at me and said wherever there is a bed but at least I had the comfort of knowing that the op wouldn’t be cancelled because it was for cancer and they never are. Ammm ok but NO that’s so wrong on every level. What the hell had I paid VHI for since I was 18 and even if I hadn’t, it’s barbaric that any woman is just lumped into whatever bed is available. She arranged for me to come in for my pre-ops on Mon morning at 11 and if I needed to talk to her at anytime to give her a ring. She was so fabulous, I suppose they have to be because the consultants are very distant and cold so it’s their job to pick you up off the floor and make everything better…

We left the hospital in a strange kind of happy but shocked mood, the waiting had come to an end. I rang my mother and told her the situation, to say she was shocked was an understatement, I probably didn’t help the situation either, I might aswell have been telling her I was having a toe removed. Everybody reacted the same way, I think it was how fast that it was happening was probably the big thing. My mother hopped straight in the car and I met her at my house, I still had to go and pick up the kids from school, life still had to go on, I was still me, ok I was going to have 1 less boob the following week but I was going to get through it. I hardly even cried that day. I had arranged to go out that night with friends and decided to hell with it, let’s go celebrate and say good-bye to the boob and so we did and had a lovely night…

The MRI….

My appointment to meet my consultant was the morning after we came home at 9.20am. I remember being a bit late because I had to drop my eldest to school. I actually ran a bit of the way through the hospital, I didn’t want to be late, I wanted to get my results as soon as possible. I needn’t have bothered, the waiting room was packed. It was one of those really annoying waiting experiences where people who arrived after you went before you, everybody was giving out. I went up to the desk 3 times in total I think, I don’t do waiting, to be told people who were coming for their first consultation were being seen first and those waiting for results had to wait longer, hellllooooooo how unfair is that, so those of us waiting to find out if we had cancer had to wait longer. What annoyed me was that the letter states you will be seen by appointment time so I was a very unhappy bunny playing Candy Crush in the corner. Eventually 2 and a half hours later I was brought down stairs at long last and met with my consultant.

It didn’t take long, he basically told me my biopsy showed pre-cancerous cells with no hormones involved meaning they were Triple Negative which isn’t good news as this tends to be the most aggressive type. He couldn’t make a decision on treatment yet but would probably involve a lumpectomy as he needed to do more tests to determine if there something more sinister going on in there so I would need to have an MRI and come back to see him in a month’s time on Sept 27th. He mentioned DCIS at the end of the conversation but didn’t go into much detail, lucky I had read up on it myself so was aware what it was, he also didn’t tell me the grade of it which looking back now I should have been informed. He asked me then was I glad he hadn’t told me over the phone on my holidays, I looked at him like he was mad, of course not!! If he had told me I wouldn’t have been arranging my funeral song and flowers on a beach in Positano. There was a Breast Cancer nurse present throughout the whole thing and she whisked me a to a private room to go through everything with me. She was so lovely, she couldn’t have been nicer, she gave me some numbers for Breast Cancer Support and some booklets on DCIS. I was a bit confused why I would need support, sure I only had pre-cancer cells, wasn’t this the best news I could have got? I felt like going out to dinner to celebrate. She kind of panicked me a bit then because it all seemed very serious, I got a little teary and mentioned I had 2 young girls and couldn’t be sick. She gave me her number and told me to ring at any time that she was there for support and off I went out to himself waiting in the car…

I went home and digested it all and decided again that this was actually great news and sure I’d just have them removed and all would be well. I got the phone call the following Tues about my MRI, they have to time it around your period so I was actually able to have it straight away that Friday. Now I put myself into a bit of a panic about this thing after much googling. I was terrified I was going to be claustrophobic as a lot of people have to get a sedative before hand and supposedly the noise of it is terrifying. Once again I was the only one in the waiting room when I arrived so I was seen straight away and given another blue gown. I had to have a dye injected into me to get clearer imaging but the vein she tried to use on my hand collapsed(never straightforward in my world) so I had to get it  into the arm which is a little more awkward for positioning in the machine. The Breast MRI machine is a funny ole thing, there’s 2 little compartments for you breasts to go in when you lie on your tummy and you put your arms above your head and place your face in a squishy thing looking at a white blank space.You are given a pair of ear phones with some classical music and told to lie as still as you can. They give you a panic button too in case you need to use it, I hung on to that thing for dear life…

Luckily I didn’t need it, there’s nothing to it of course, stop believing Google Lorraine, it is very noisy alright, like a machine gun going off, you can’t hear the music at all. The most uncomfortable part of it is being stuck in the same position for so long looking at a white blank space. I started to get dizzy and see stars towards the end and my arms were so uncomfortable kinda like when you wake up from falling asleep on a sunbed on your tummy but nothing major. The nurse came in just before she injected the dye to say she was going to do it and to stay as still as I could. It took me a couple of seconds to get over the dizziness when I came out, I was in there for about 15-20 mins, I changed back into my clothes and she told me the Dr would have the results in about a week. I still had a couple of weeks to wait to meet him but I was sure everything was fine so there was no panic…

But the following week I got another brown envelope in the post asking me to come in for another Ultrasound on my axilla, again no explanation, just an appt date and time. At this point I thought Oh FXXK FXXK FXXK FXXK FXXK FXXK FXXK FXXK FXXK FXXK I have cancer and it has spread to my lymph nodes. It was at this point it was starting to get scary. I rang my GP friend in a panic again and she calmed me down and said it was probably just protocol as the MRI results wouldn’t even be back yet so not to worry….

I was delighted to see my friendly buddy was there again at my Ultrasound appt. She was having a look at her screen while I waited and informed me she was looking at my MRI results to see what had to be done. Ah c’mere, she has the results there, I’m lying here with not a clue about what’s going on and have to wait nearly another 2 weeks to get them. She started to preform the ultrasound then and asked me had I started any treatment.

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA?

My heart started racing, that was it she knew I had cancer. I asked her then could she tell me the results because I didn’t know what they were. She looked at me like I was mad and asked me why I hadn’t got them as they were available for ages. She told me then that it showed the lump that I knew about and a couple of glands that were enlarged and that’s why I was there. She then told me I needed to have them biopsied and I asked her  why? This was the first time I actually saw a bit of empathy in her as she told me it was to see if anything had spread but it didn’t neccessarlily mean it had either. The biopsy went the same as last time but it was in my armpit and she used the ultasound as a guide again, I remember her saying everything looked normal to the nurse and I breathed the biggest sigh of relief ever and she sent me on my merry way. This time though I was very sore that day and the day after, I needed to take painkillers it was that bad. The next week passed in a blur of worry & anxiety waiting for my final appointment with my consultant…

The Triple Assessment..

It was from here on in my problems with the public system began. There was just no communication. I had gotten the letter to call me back for my second mammogram but had no clue whether it was the left or right breast or why I was being brought back. I asked the nurse at my 2nd appointment and all she told me was she needed to have more images of the left breast. I still had no clue if the right one which I had been referred with was ok. Nobody told me anything. This time I was told to take a seat back in the cubicle after the mammogram so that a doctor could view the images and see if I needed any further tests. While I sat there I even said a little prayer that I wouldn’t have to, I heard the nurse asking the dr in the hall “is it ok to send Lorraine home and all I heard was no because bla bla bla. I nearly tore my head off my neck trying to hear what she was saying. The nurse then told me I would need an Ultrasound which was in the room next door.

The Ultrasound lady was very detached and not very friendly, she had a look at the lump in silence for a few minutes and then declared very abruptly  “you have a small lump and need to be biopsied” end of, not another word. It all got very busy then as the nurse got everything ready and still the room stayed very quiet, I was kinda dreading this as my last experience hadn’t been great but this time she gave me a small local anasthetic in the boob(doesn’t hurt at all) and then said that the biopsy thingy would make a small noise and not to get a fright and sure what did I do, I nearly jumped out of my skin when she did it first. It was one of those completely over the top reactions to a tiny noise and she looked at me like I was 5 and asked had she hurt me or did I get a fright, she took about 4 or 5 samples from the lump guided by the ultrasound in complete silence again, (again this doesn’t hurt at all)I don’t think I’ve ever stayed so quiet for so long but there was no chatting with this lady, in saying that I’d say she’s very good because she concentrates but a little bedside manner is always nice in these tense situations. She put a plaster over the biopsy site and said I’d have a bit of bruising and that was it, not 1 ounce of information as to what she thought it was, what it might be. When you get a Mammogram, Ultrasound and Biopsy done it’s known as Triple Assessment.

I presumed I would speak to a dr after so I didn’t push her on it but nope, the nurse escorted me out and told me it would  be 2 weeks for results and she would get me an appt. This was the week before my holiday and I was going for a month so I presumed they would give it to me over the phone but she said it was policy not to, at this point I was starting to panic a little, there had to be something up and nobody was telling me. I registered my VHI etc with the girl in the office and she could see I was worried and said surely if there’s anything wrong they would contact you, and told me to go up to the Breast Clinic and see if there was anybody that could help me. There was 3 ladies on the desk and all said the same they won’t give it over the phone, that was it I started bawling, one of those can’t talk through the tears ones and talking about my month’s holiday being ruined and what if there was anything serious wrong, they felt sorry for me then and gave me my Dr’s receptionists number and said to give her a ring and she might be able to help me. I rang her straight away when I got home and again she said it wasn’t policy but given the circumstances she’d see what she could do and to give her a ring in 2 weeks time from Italy.

There was nothing to do but just try and put it to the back of my mind, pack our bags and head off to Italy, we had a fantastic holiday but it was always there in the back of my mind. It’s amazing how your mind works when you’re worrying about something, I was on the beach one day on my own while the girls were having a snooze in the hotel room and there was a lot of older people in our hotel and one very old man sitting near me could hardly get up from the sunbed, normally I’d be feeling really sorry for him but I was so jealous of him, there I was wondering would I live to that age and have problems getting out of my sun chair, would I be back sunbathing there next year, did I have cancer, was I going to die. Yep a very relaxing afternoon I had that day:)

The day arrived that I could ring and I ended up missing a call from my dr, I rang her back straight away expecting a “oh everything is ok” but she said she couldn’t tell me much over the phone but that I would need further tests and to come see the Dr the day after I came home. All I remember thinking was “OH FXXK”, I asked her was it anything serious and she just said my DR said to enjoy the rest of my holiday and he’d talk to me when I came back. There wasn’t a hope of enjoying the rest of my holiday after this, I rang my GP straight away and she calmed me down a bit, I went back in tears to the appartment to the MIL and himself, everybody was worried but again if there was something serious wrong they would have brought me home wouldn’t they. At this stage I knew nothing about DCIS or Pre-Cancer so I just assumed they weren’t getting the right results and just had to do a biopsy again. I had 2 weeks left of my holiday so I enjoyed as best I could but I was so worried all the time, it ruined it for me. I put on a brave face for everybody else and nobody noticed but I just couldn’t wait to come home and just get it over with…

Life Goes On…

I said I’d post this for anybody going through this at the moment or about to got through it. This was me on Saturday 6 weeks after my op, we went to an old friend’s wedding. I got my hair done, I bought a new dress, painted the face and put on heels for the first time in ages. Did I feel any different, yep I felt better than I ever have, I have got through this horrible time in my life, I never thought 4 weeks ago I would be going out when I couldn’t even sleep in the bed without 6 pillows or lift my small girl. Of course I checked to make sure everything looked ok but nothing looks any different, I’m still me. I was one of the lucky ones and life definitely goes on and a wash and blow dry and a manicure always helps one get through anything:)

L x

p.s. I’ve had a couple of radio interviews for anyone who wants to have a listen here and here…