Category Archives: After treatment

An AMH to count my eggs

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Fertility by

Six months later and we’re at the baby doctor’s office, waiting for our consultation. Again, we’re back at the same clinic where I was diagnosed, but thankfully – this time – they have put us in a different waiting area. No more having to stare at the door, the room, the memory of where I was first told about cancer. Thank goodness for that.

So. Today’s appointment with the doctor went rather quickly. Apart from waiting (we always wait) for fifty minutes, everything was straightforward. [Zsolt and I now arrive at a doctor’s office, any doctor’s office, and immediately find the best magazines. Then we plop ourselves into some chairs and engage in the waiting. This is a-okay with me for one reason: when I had my emergency, we didn’t wait more than ten minutes. Now that my crisis is over, it’s okay to let others go first.]

Essentially Dr Baby-Maker recommended that I test my Anti-Mullerian Hormone (AMH) which will help ascertain whether I have any eggs left in my ovaries.  And then later on (whether it’s here or in Canada, but most likely Canada) the test can be repeated and we can see what’s happening with the girls. It’s a game of ‘how fertile are you’. Apparently from a blood test this lab can determine the number of eggs in a woman’s body- described as ‘Ovarian reserve’ ranging from optimal fertility, satisfactory fertility, low fertility and very low/undetectable. Boo for very low fertility, and yay for optimal to satisfactory.

Again, there were reassurances not to worry about my lack of menstrual cycle. So, I am trying not to worry – and what’s the point anyhow, now I’m going to take a test that will monitor my level of eggs . . . so whatever mystery exists is soon to be resolved. Tomorrow I’m calling the clinic to arrange for the test. Because it’s new, the test isn’t covered by the NHS, but – obviously – Zsolt and I think it’s worth the reasonable £50 fee.

Speaking very honestly, I’m not keen to have a treatment like IVF – at least, not at this point. Hormones got me into this breast cancer mess, so avoiding a surge of drug induced hormones (more, following eight years of on-and-off birth control and now the estrogen blocking tamoxifem, though that’s a bit different, it still pertains to estrogen) doesn’t feel like a good idea.

Anyhow, I’ve been surprisingly calm about this entire day. Soon Zsolt and I will learn whether I have eggs left in my ovaries. That’s an important thing. And then we’ll get on with our lives (and our family planning), one way or another. 

PS. Zsolt and I followed this visit to the hospital with a visit to the cemetery. We found the resting place of Benny Hill, a British comedian who Zsolt quite admires. If you are ever around the Southampton general, and you’re a fan, it’s worth stopping by to pay respects.

PPS. The weather here is amazing. Today was all sundresses and shades, with a great dose of clear skies and a warm breeze. Perfect for a walk through the cemetery.

Dressing for the boobies

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Fun, Life by

Once upon a time I bought a dress online from H&M – a cheap red dress that I wore once to a Christmas party, and may never wear again. I say ‘may’ because ‘maybe’ next Christmas I’ll start feeling festive and  try it on once more. But honestly, it kinda reminds me of the chemo days, so thinking about it as I write, it’s probably better to send that red number along to the charity shop as a donation.

Anyhow – not my point.

Ever since ordering from H&M, they’ve been assailing me with magazines. Every other week I receive a magazine about their new spring line, new summer line, new home line.  This morning the delivery boy dropped off H&M’s  ‘Shades of Summer 2011’ and I’m just cracking into this baby.

Thankfully, magazine browsing somewhat satisfies my craving for new clothes. Somewhat. And I pour over these pages as though if I stare hard enough, the fashion will materialize from thin air into my apartment. I wish!

I’m noticing a lot of loose tops, which bodes well for my post-mastectomy figure. If you’ve had a mastectomy and don’t want to wear an overly structured bra every day (and if you have a small breasts, because I doubt this would work with a larger cup), then it’s somewhat easy to pull off the sans-boob look with the right clothing.

For example – sans boobs: Tube tops are OUT.  Bandeau bikinis are IN.  V-necks are GREAT. Plain t-shirts are OBVIOUS (obvious you’re missing a breast). Patterns, flowing material, and asymmetrical cuts are the best. Apparently crochet tops are back? But I don’t think that looks good on anyone, boobs or no boobs.

Talk about body image battles. If a woman can go without her breast and still feel sexy, then you’ve got to admire that. There are times when I feel like there’s been no change. Small or no boobs, the figure is still androgynous. And when I throw on my pink sun dress with those oversized shades and white flip flops, damn – I do feel sexy.

But then, I totally get why women wear prosthesis breasts. If you have B and above curves (which most women do) a missing bump will become far more noticeable. I’ve seen bras designed for the Amazonian woman (one cup only) and some really nicely structured clothing to hide any unbalance (or even the total absence of breasts). Actually, ever since my trip to the mastectomy shop, I’ve been taking my floppy falsie out on the town, and the response has been surprising.

So I’m out and about meeting friends, going to work, whatever, all while wearing my spare boob. And here are the comments:

“Oh, cute top.”

“I like your shirt.”

“Is that new?”

1) They are cute tops. 2) I am glad people like my taste. 3) No, they’re not new. They’re way old, and I’ve been wearing them every other week for the past nine months.

BUT – I haven’t worn them with my boobs on.

It’s so absolutely fascinating that as soon as I put on two breasts instead of one, my tops become all the more attractive. Maybe it’s because they’re cut for the typical women’s shape? Maybe it’s because my new mastectomy bra makes the girls pop out to their best advantage? Maybe people feel awkward when they notice my chest isn’t shaped as expected, and so look away before noticing how cute I’m dressed?

Maybe, maybe, oopsy daisy.

Anyhow. For this reason I’m starting to reconsider the idea of mastectomy lingerie. I love the bras we obtained two weekends past. And have my eye on purchasing a couple more before leaving the UK. There is this provider called ‘about a girl’ who I’m becoming curious about. They have silk mastectomy lingerie, and the stuff looks quite – dare I hope? – sexy. I’m thinking of making a pilgrimage to their store (because when it comes to mastectomy clothing, you generally have to make a long trip or order online) and see what’s what.

Anyhow, that’s me and my cup of tea – pouring over this morning’s junk mail, an easy start to an easy morning.

Eggs in many baskets

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Fertility by

Monday morning. Have spilled orange juice all over myself, but thanks to a damp sponge and a (once) clean tea towel, have cleaned up mess. Weather: cloudy. Apartment: messy. Allergies: active. Temperament: not so bad.

I nearly forgot that Easter was coming. This year we’re staying at home for the sake of Zsolt’s study habits and the impending viva.  But I will miss having an Easter with family. In Canada we go to my grandmother’s home (Bonjour Lulu!), or someone’s home in Quebec, and share a lunch. My family is comprised of cooks and bakers, and people create excellent food. Like, lick your fingers and smack those lips excellent.  When we were younger (proper grandchildren rather than adult grandchildren) Lulu would always hand out these large chocolate bunnies with marshmallow filling. They were pretty to look at – I loved the idea of them, the idea of the chocolate and the bright pinks, yellows, blues on the wrapper . . .of a bunny who also collects painted eggs and carries a blue tinfoil basket. . .  but could never bring myself to love that marshmallow filling. Oh well.

In Hungary, Zsolt’s mother will hard boil about two dozen eggs, and his sister will prepare the dyes out in the garden. Then we’ll sit around for an hour or two and dye the eggs. I love it. After you have your egg dyed with whatever colour arrangement you choose (all red, half red, half blue, some purple in between, or yellow and blue with a green band, etc) you take some pork fat and rub into the egg shell to make it shine. On Easter morning people crack into the coloured eggs, but Zsolt’s mom saves the prettiest ones from hungry fingers.

And speaking of eggs, I have a fertility appointment this week. Wednesday.  It’ll be a family gathering of sorts. In that it’s about family, and there will be a gathering.  A good friend recommended I stop thinking about fertility and just give my body a break. Good reasoning. It’s on my ‘to do’ list (along with some meditation). But first there’s this appointment.

Right, back to Monday morning. Orange juice is under control. Time to make some breakfast if I can find a clean dish in this mess. Yesterday I made a fantastic meal of some curry chicken and a soup. But fantastic meals leave me knackered, and I can never bother with the dishes immediately. As a result my flat looks like a culinary Armageddon.

But that’s okay. 🙂  And now, onwards with the day.