Monday 28 May 2018

So long....



Hey! I hope you’re well. This is something of a whistle stop tour through my year of illness, where I’m picking out the big moments for me, and others, I’m sure I’ve said, it ties into some longer life writing I’m doing, so please follow me any way you wish if you’d like to know when that’s ready. Today’s post is one of the moments that I thought (in my usual blasé way) wasn’t such a big deal, but it was. I regularly use being somewhat flippant as my first coping mechanism for big moments. I can regularly be heard saying things like “I’m too busy for lymphoedema, I’ve got a gig later.” Or “This is boring me now, I don’t have time to be ill, I’m too busy having fun and being well!”
Those sorts of phrases get me through the first moments, until I can think a while and reflect, plan, write, whatever I think needs to happen. However, please do not think that this ever gives anyone a justification for an appointment with Dr Google. I’m guilty too. We’ve all done it. Nothing good ever comes from that. Sore throat? Probably throat cancer, expect to die, soon. Feeling tired? Probably something equally awful which will curtail your life significantly. I’m not sure I’ve felt on top form consistently for a full year since I was about 20, so shrugging off the occasional ache or pain is part of life. It doesn’t mean I’m not pushing every day to make the day the best it can be. Why waste it?
How does this link into the Sound of Music ear worm that you’re currently battling with? Well, when at my diagnosis I was told that I needed a mastectomy, I was almost instantly, perfectly ok with that. I know, odd. But my thought process (for this) wasn’t unusual apparently. I had breast cancer, I was getting rid of the breast, cancerous bits and bits that in my head might become cancerous. Safest option, hey? Well, in lots of ways, yes. But it’s not always right for folk, and your consultant knows the score. I spent some time thinking about it. Would I mind having one? Would I care about losing one? (losing, ha! Who am I kidding? I know where it is, it’s at the Christie Hospital in the bio bank). Both of those things I thought, no, I don’t mind. Reconstruction was, and still is, an option. Did I want that? I didn’t think so, and I’ll talk a little more on that in a later post. 
I did a few things to say good bye. I touched my skin, everywhere. To know what it all felt like. I was very lucky and I got to have a photoshoot done which celebrated me, and documented the experience that I was going through. I have those pictures digitally, and when I occasionally look back at them, I barely recognise myself. I’ve no complaints, I’m just a different person now. I do believe in fact, a better one. I took a night before the operation selfie. In the morning of the operation, I woke early, had a really good shower, with my best poshest shower gel, preparing myself as though it was some sort of sacrifice. Which it was. This sacrifice was one small part of me, so that the rest could live. A worthy price to pay, I think. 
Which brings me to that day, the operation, (which I wasn’t aware of of course,) then the first time, waking up. I went down to theatre, smiling and chatting. I knew that I’d be waking up with less of me. What an easy way to lose weight, I thought. Nod off, and a trimmer me appears at the other side. Hurrah! It also felt like I was winning. My inner monologue was speaking in the voice of an action hero, likely a military background. “So!” it yelled, “You thought you could kill me did you?” As the words spat out in my head, I smiled inside, knowing that this was my battle win about to take place. When I woke up, I wouldn’t have cancer any more. The tumour and a safety margin would be removed. Take that, Punk!
So easy to think, so cool as I went, joked as I was being marked up, the usual big marker pen arrow, telling the surgeon remove here. I asked would they weigh what was removed? The answer being yes, I requested that someone tell me what the weight was. I entertained myself with a  sort of Victorian fairground mentality, “Roll up! Roll up! Guess the weight of the breast!” My guess was for around 550g. I was wrong. It was way more than that, 830g I learnt later. It was no wonder running has always been fairly uncomfortable!
Anyway, I’d chatted to the anaesthetist, relaxed and fell asleep. Then, I woke up. I’d prepared, mostly. I’d thought, am I ok being flat on this side? I’d decided yes, but all my thoughts had been tied into the sergeant major who was yelling in my head that this war had to be won, at any cost. I do sometimes wish my desire to live was a bit less red-faced, and more zen and easy going, but maybe fight mechanisms just aren’t. What does yours sound like? I’d love to know. We could make a whole team of superhero inner voices! I couldn’t really, truly comprehend what I’d feel like when I looked down and only one boob was there, because up until then, when I looked down, they’d both been mounding there. I couldn’t know. Not until the moment. So, groggily, I woke up and my first instinct was to take a peek down my gown at what I now looked like. Flat obviously, with a neat dressing covering what would be my wound then scar. Tidy. Fine. I know how big a moment it was because I can still close my eyes and I’m right back there, gazing down and thinking “yep, that’s ok.” before I rested my head back on the pillow and dozed a while. 

Thursday 17 May 2018

Telling folk


Sometimes we all look ropey. We get ill, our noses are Rudolf-esque and we are generally not feeling on top of our game. When that happens, when you have a cold, feel sick, trip and bruise your hip or face, you can if you wish, hide at home until you look like yourself again. Equally, if you want, in this oversharing world of the twenty first century, to make a social media post, to announce your misfortune to the world, then you can. If you are diagnosed with cancer, it’s not as straightforward a choice as that. It won’t come as a surprise to hear that I hadn’t planned what I would do if this befell me, I expect you won’t have either. Here are some of the key points from my experience.

Tuesday 8 May 2018

Family



This is a real bittersweet topic for me. As you know, it was almost four years ago now that I was ill. There are stacks of great blogs out there from people who are, or have documented their journey through cancer, in real time. A pal of mine is doing that right now at When life gives you melons. Those stories are real and wonderful. I’m choosing what I now reflect as being the big, key moments in my journey for my attitude and my outlook, both at the time and now.

Thursday 3 May 2018

My Guide to Packing for Appointments



Nobody packs for appointments as well as I do. I really believe that. If I’d been allowed to join the guides when I was eleven (which is a whole other, tragic story of injustice in a Northern town) then I’d have been ace. I’m so prepared. I know just what to take with me, for how long the ordeal is going to last. I really do win at appointments.