Category Archives: Radiotherapy Treatment

Chemo Eve Eve

Posted in Bumpboobs, Canada, Chemotherapy, Finding Home, Life, Love, Radiotherapy Treatment, Treatment by

My friends do this thing each year called Christmas Eve Eve – when everyone gathers at a bar/pub to have some drinks and just pause for a good time. It’s nice and I’ve loved going.

Well, tonight is my ‘chemo eve eve’. It’s far less jolly and eventful than Christmas celebrations – however, I did paint my nails this evening, which was an adventure. With my eyes being so messed up, trying to focus upon the thickness of the polish upon my nails was rather different. Things a few feet away aren’t so hard, but those very close up details do challenge me. The entire time I was working that paint brush with my cutiicles, I was narrating to Zsolt: “Can’t clearly see what I’m doing, but it’s going on. Oh! All over the finger. Okay, now for the other hand!”

It may have helped if it the room hadn’t been so dim. My Dad always says “don’t curse the darkness, turn on a light.” But as I was only cursing the nail polish, I forgot all about the lights.

But hey, this was the best part of my evening, and I was revelling in the ridiculousness. My nails are now a very dark blue/green, and they look like someone painted them with a translucent blindfold on. Which is somewhat true, at least in the case of my left eye.

ImNotGrumpy

new hair cut, pre-nail-painting

So chemo starts very soon. Chemo and the magic key to remission: HER2+ targeted drugs. I am both dreading the chemo side effects, and looking forward to getting the cancer under control. It has truly had its way with me these past few months. Unfortunately I now have spots alongside both eyes, and – ugh – in that layer between the skull and the brain. So pretty much skirting the brain, though perhaps technically in the brain. But at least it’s not in the essential tissue … and I would like to avoid any ‘yet’ with that statement, and just say we’ll radiate the heck out of them and blast them away. Or so I pray. Brain is bad bad bad news.

But eye on the prize – we’ll do chemo, and then at the same time, radiation. I don’t know if it will be a targeted radiation treatment or full brain. The lovely doctor I spoke with today said he needs to consult with a few other doctors first. Either way, it will make painting my nails in dim lighting with one wonky eye look like a total cakewalk. (Karen, next time I’ll give you a call!)

Here is a nice story, and it’s also why I think I will do much better this time around than 5 years ago when first diagnosis. Everyone I love is here. My husband is beside me, and my family are here for me, and my friends are never too far away either, even when I’m too tired to do anything but think of them. 🙂 Just this past weekend, my mom broke out the flip chart board, and my entire family brainstormed ways to help support me in beating back the cancer – getting to that golden word ‘remission’ (officially my new favourite word. I like it even more than ‘butter’ and ‘delicious’). This family gathering was the most touching thing you could see. And then, after all that brainstorming, we made a picture board together. 🙂

Mission remission. Get this damn cancer under control! I’m going big, because there’s no choice for going home – except if you are speaking literally, but let’s not muddy that up. I want the cancer gone. gone, gone, gone. May this Chemo eve eve mark the moment when everything starts going right. It needn’t be a shitty day – but instead a day that tips the scales, and gives my body the chance needed to regain control. Let’s pray on that, if you dig prayer. Otherwise maybe you can just nod your head and think: go for it.

Cheers to getting better. And to family. And to dark nail polish. And – oh! To a cute new pixie cut. It may only last a week, but at least that’s one week when I can rock this new look. (I may look a bit grumpy in this picture, but really I’m just exhausted. Cancer is exhausting.)

And now, it’s time for bed.

😛

May it be worthwhile

Posted in Blogging and Other Fun, Bumpboobs, Life, Life despite cancer, Radiotherapy Treatment, Treatment by

After a while of simply not writing things down, I guess it just becomes easier to stop altogether. That’s what I’ve been doing lately – stopping all together. It started just after that post I posted (oh man, ugly wording) about the blood and the hospital and the lung and yada yada yada.

Meatballs

I just stopped with the posts. This will happen sometimes. Often it’s because I’m out having an awesome time in the world. But sometimes it’s because I just don’t want to share.

All this being said, it’s been a trip.

Life has gone all pin ball machine lately, and I’m that metal ball pinging from paddle to paddle. Sometimes I shoot up in a happy moment, other times I roll down towards that game-over pit and not a paddle can save me . . .

That’s really dramatic language. When I started with that pinball metaphor, I actually thought it would be more fun.

Life has been like a plate of spaghetti. I’m the meat ball on top, sinking into the marinara sauce and wet, warm noodles . . . and the Parmesan cheese, with that pinch of salt and sprinkle of pepper . . . and the fork going in there with the spoon, wrapping all the goodness together . . .

Actually no. Life hasn’t been like a meatball on a plate of spaghetti. I’m just seriously hungry. Like SERIOUSLY hungry.

Life has been like this: it’s has been busy. After that trip to the hospital, a few different things happen:

  • My oncologist, Dr Canada, ordered a biopsy – meaning a tube-down-the-throat-into-the-lungs biopsy.
  • Then, following that, radiation was ordered – meaning shoot radiation at your lungs for two weeks every evening after work.
  • Then, following that the side effects kicked in – meaning don’t eat because you can’t and lose 10 pounds for swim suit season…except it’s winter and we all just want to indulge in cookies and chocolate. At least, I do. Stuffing too. And meat pie. And pretty much everything right about now. Just today I had my first solid food in a week. I chewed that olive about 40 times before swallowing.
  • I missed work, and worried.
  • Biopsy results came back. Interesting stuff. More another day.

Other things happened too!

  • Zsolt became CANADIAN.

I was going to throw him a party like this: Everyone would come over wearing red & white. We’d be decked out in Canadiana. He, being the guest of honour, would name the best Canadian outfit. We’d have a map of Canada and people would be blind folded, and would need to ‘pin the capital on the country’. There would be a table filled with Canadian themed food from Beaver tales to maple syrup to a veggie platter (because you need something healthy) to maple cake to Canadian beer, etc. And we’d all give Zsolt our best advice on how to be Canadian.

None of that happened, except in my head. Maybe it will, probably it won’t. Unfortunately the radiation side effects were stronger than anticipated, and we cancelled the party. Party or not, the man is still CANADIAN. And it’s still really surreal.

More things!

  • Refugees began to arrive in Canada! This makes me really happy to watch in the news. They’ve been going through a nightmare. Even though the memories will of course follow them, they are here. They are in a new home, and we want them to feel as safe as possible.
  • We decorated our apartment. Finally, after months of the pictures hanging around and the freezer being in the middle of the floor, we have put everything away and made this new place feel more like home.
  • Work! It went well.
  • I went and bought some clothes. Somehow, in between the physical phases of treatment, my mother and I went to the shop and I picked up some clothes for work. The sale rack was good to me. I no longer need to shop for another 1.5 years. ­
  • My family has been awesome-incredible-amazing-loving-supporting and more. Zsolt and I have been so touched.

 

This is what I need to remember going into 2016. It is probably not going to be a bed of roses, but if I’m lucky the lows will seriously be balanced, if not totally knocked aside by the highs. I need to remember what I’m fighting for. These good things need to be the center of me. It may not always been easy, but I pray it is always worthwhile.

That is all.

Goodnight.

 

Co-Survivor Award: My Mom and My MAN

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Chemotherapy, Life, Life despite cancer, Love, Radiotherapy Treatment, Treatment by

Way back when I was first diagnosed and wrote a profile for myself for Bumpyboobs and FacingCancer.ca, I identified myself as a survivor. Forget dictionary definitions, I defined a survivor as someone getting up every day, facing what needed to be done, learning how to thrive through uncertain realities, and living life on their terms.

My life, my definition.

So when FacingCancer.ca recently announced their Co-Survivor Award, it made me really happy to see their definition of survivorship:

We believe survivorship begins at the time of diagnosis.

And it made me even happier to see that they’ve decided to honour those who have supported us, honouring the support they’ve given.

And surrounding every cancer survivor, there are people who care: we call them Co-Survivors. Whether it’s a friend, a family member, a medical professional or an online supporter, use the form below to tell us who has made your cancer experience a little better with their selfless support.

There have been many people in my life who have helped. From friends in England, family in Canada, letters & emails from my friends during treatments, support during my crowdfunding, and the awesomeness and insight of those who get it online. But for the Co-Survivor award, if I could nominate someone (and I can’t because I work for FacingCancer.ca), it would be two someones: My husband and my mother.

Zsolt is Zsolt. You know him via this blog. He is softness and love and unconditional support. We’ve been through so much together and still we dance in the middle of the day. There’s so much to say, I really cannot begin to capture it all.

My mom, well, she’s my guide, point of reference and my friend. When I hear one thing regarding healthcare, I’ll take it to her for her opinion. And I’ll never forget how she left Canada and my dad for over a month (to sleep in our small one bedroom apartment on an air mattress in England) to help me recovering from the mastectomy – and then to help Zsolt and I weather that first terrible round of chemotherapy.

So here is the question: Who is your co-survivor, or co-thrivor, or co-awesomnesser?

award

If you live in Canada and can think of someone you’d nominate as co-survivor – then I invite you to pitch in your story over at FacingCancer.ca. Ten from the many will be chosen, and then we’ll agonize over them to land upon the first Co-Survivor recipient (but the ten will also receive goodies, too). Can you think of someone? Nominate here.

If you don’t live in Canada, and I know many don’t, but still want to share who has supported you , that’s what the comments are for ; ) People do read the comments, and they do pull inspiration from them – even folks supporting others, and needing to hear the positive impact their actions may have. Or even better – write about it on your own blog, and then link it back here. 😉

And you know what? Even if you haven’t had cancer (I hope), you may still have a co-survivor in your life, or co-supporter. I love stories about love, and about generosity, so I welcome you to leave your own reflections.

Now, that is all I have to say about that.

Except this P.S.!

P.S. I wasn’t asked or prompted to write this post for the award. I just like the idea. Everyone who does something kind for another person deserves to know their impact. This is just one really great way of saying thanks.