Birthday Blessings

6th February 2010

It was my 47th birthday on Saturday and my daughter Nicole told me that her and Kelsey were going to take me out for lunch.  We got ready and set off (albeit 20 minutes late) to Ambience. It was a boiling hot day, the markets were on and there people everywhere.  It was safe to say that I couldn't find a car park anywhere. We eventually found a park and feeling somewhat hot and flustered we walked into the cafe. As we stood at the counter I looked around and saw one of my friends sitting at a table.  I thought that was strange as I had only spoken to her yesterday and she hadn't mentioned that she was going out to lunch. Then as I looked around at the other ladies one by one I realised that my daughters had invited some of my good friends and my mother-in-law as a surprise.  And that it was!  We had a lovely afternoon together and I am so blessed to have friends and family who care so much.

Waiting, Waiting, Waiting

The thing that I have discovered mostly since the beginning of this journey is that everything associated with it involves waiting.  Now some people who know me say that I am a patient person but I beg to differ. Every process involves waiting; waiting for appointments, waiting for tests, waiting for the results, waiting to be referred to someone else. Then back you go to square one and start all over again. I am one of the lucky ones because most of my procedures are being done privately except for the chemotherapy.

14th February 2010

On Wednesday I had the pleasure of going to Wellington Public Hospital. (Previous post readers will know how I feel about that place).  Suffice to say, I was seen to a lot quicker this time round. I was booked in for a CT scan at 8.30am.  This test is done as a matter of course just to make sure there is nothing anywhere else they should know about. So the previous night I had to drink a solution of Losec which lines the stomach.  The following morning I wasn't allowed any breakfast and had to drink two more lots of Losec one hour apart before we left and on the way in to the hospital.  Yup, it's great being stuck in early morning traffic with a full bladder.

Once I got to Radiology I had to have, yup you've guessed it, another drink of Losec. This is given before they put dye into my body so that the dye shows up.  The nurse then put a line into my vein so that they could administer the dye.  Once I start chemotherapy I shall be having a larger one of these,  (called a PICC line) in my vein for the entire six months where the chemotherapy drug will be administered.

Once the preliminaries were done I went through to the CT scan machine.  You lay on the bed and the bed raises up and passes the area to be scanned backwards and forwards through the hole where the cameras are. It takes about half an hour. The nurse told me that once the dye was injected I would feel a warmth all over my body and would feel a sensation like I had wet my pants, when actually I hadn't.  Very weird, I must say.

Once I had finished there I had to go and have my MUGA scan which is a moving picture of my heart function.

Firstly I had to have some metal injected into my hand and then had to wait half an hour for it to work it's way to my heart.  Once it had done that I had some radioactive liquid injected into my vein via the line in my arm.  The nurse informed me that I would be radioactive for 12 hours afterwards and to stay away from pregnant women and children. 

The MUGA machine was set up similar to the CT scan only the camera was on the left had side of me  and they lowered it down over my heart area.  I had to lay still for 30 minutes.  Once that was done I was free to go. Who would have thought that the waiting room would have been so full of children so needless to say we didn't hang around.

I had found out the day before that my chemotherapy isn't booked to start until March 18th.   Another wait.  My oncologist had said last week when I met him that I could go ahead and have my reconstruction before starting chemo if I wish as I don't have to have radiation treatment. So I made an appointment later in the day with my plastic surgeon and that's what we have decided to do.  I am booked in to have the first part done on the 3rd March. It involves a night hospital stay where they will score the skin on my abdomen to encourage the blood vessels to that area.  They will cover it will plastic dressing and I will go home for a week. Then on the following Wednesday (10th March) I go back into surgery.  They will take the fat and skin from my stomach and push it up under my skin and into the pocket of stretched skin, to form the new breast. They will then sew up my tummy and create a new belly button as the one I've got now will be pulled down low and will look strange. I will be in hospital for 7 days as this is quite a biggie but will be well worth it.  I have just about had enough of the skin expander as there are some sharp corners on it pushing my skin out from the inside so it will be good to have that gone.   I will be off work for six weeks this time.  Then after that I just have the chemotherapy to go and I shall be as good as new one!

First Visit To The Oncologist

Darren and I went to Kenepuru Hospital today to meet with Professor Rudstone to discuss my options for treatment.  He has just arrived out here from the UK and what a lovely man he is.  He is somebody that I would love to have as a grandfather.  Before we met him I had pre-conceived that he would be a stuffy, suited man but he was nothing like that at all.  As he explained things to us he would every now and again pat my hand or touch my arm in a reassuring and caring manner and call me dear.  He ran through everything and explained what each method of treatment would offer me, in the way of a graph.  He said if I were to decide not to have any treatments, my chances of another ten years would be 74%.  If I were to chose to have chemotheraphy only then my chances increase to 84%. If I chose to have chemotheraphy and then take hormonal therapy for 5 years afterwards then my chances increase to 88%. The tumor was eostrogen receptive which means it relies on eostrogen to grow.  By taking the hormone therapy, tamoxofin, which removes the eostrogen from my body, the tumor has less chance of coming back. The drawback of this of course is that it will throw me into the change of life. Marvellous!!

So I say, give me the works.

I initially was told that I would only have to have four sessions every three weeks by my surgeon but Profressor Rudstone is recommending that I have four sessions of the first drug and then after that, administering the second lighter drug once every week for twelve weeks.  The second one probably won't have much of a side effect because it will be given in a weaker dose but more frequent.

They will insert a pic line into my vein which will stay in until my therapy is done with.  I will have to have my blood tested each time before each session to make sure I am not anaemic and also to keep an eye on my platelets. This basically means that if the platelets are low and I cut myself, my blood won't clot. (Hmm better watch out for those paper cuts at work).  Another worrying thing is that if I get an infection I have to be admitted to hospital straight away (I told him that won't be happening because there is no way I'm going back into Wellington public).  He then informed me that, "you will have no choice dear because an untreated infection in someone having chemotherapy will kill you in two days". Oh shit!!

I had an ECG taken right there and then to see that my heart is in good nick. Apart from it being broken a few times, it seems to be alright on the printout.  They have to keep an eye on my heart because sometimes the chemotherapy drug can damage it.  Oh, the joys!!  For this reason I also have to have a MUGA scan which makes a movie of my heart moving and to assess whether there is any damage before they start the chemo. I will probably have my first shot late next week.

They also are going to book me in for a CT scan to photograph my whole body to make sure that the little blighter hasn't seeded itself anywhere else.  I was under the impression that if the lymph nodes were clear then  it hadn't gone anywhere else but that is not the case.

I drove home feeling angry, for the first time since my diagnoses. I felt really brassed off that I will have to have six months of chemo instead of three and every week for the last three months at that. I drove along Paekakariki water front and as I got towards the end of the stretch I noticed all the cars up ahead were slowing down.  Great, I thought, roadworks or worse still, an accident. I noticed lots of cars in the carpark and people taking photos and as I looked out over the water (which by the way, was a beautiful greeny blue, greener than I'd ever seen it) I saw a pod of orchas coming out of the water as they made their way southwards. Up ahead, the whole line of traffic had slowed right down as people watched nature in all its glory.  Not one driver tooted or became full of road rage from being forced to drive slow.  It was this beautiful site that made me say 'Wow' out loud to myself and my anger disappeared.  What is worse? Six months of not feeling 100% or only having six months left?  What is six months of therapy compared to surviving and living a long and healthy life to enjoy moments such as these!