Category Archives: Treatment

Halloween pumpkin

Posted in Bumpboobs, Fun, Life, Love, Treatment by

Boo!

Zsolt and I have decided to celebrate Halloween. I know that back home ‘deciding’ to celebrate Halloween is as inevitable as deciding to rake the lawn, but here in England it is 100% optional.


It’s been years since I’ve dressed up for a party, and since we’re not going to a party (too many potential germs!) – it may be several more. But there are other ways to get into the Halloween spirit. First and foremost: carve a pumpkin.

Today after work we dropped into the green grocer’s on Portswood and selected a pumpkin. My experience vetoed Zsolt’s desire for a tiny pumpkin because – frankly – it’s really hard to carve a face onto a tiny surface.  Now our pumpkin (about 1 foot tall, and somewhat narrow) is sitting by the door waiting for Sunday. Though by Canadian standards this is a small pumpkin. Back home we would go to the farm where there’d be a moutain of pumpkins – massive pumpkins, big as a man’s torso. We’d buy a few, because why not? But our English pumpkin is perfect for our English apartment.  Plus, it’s Zsolt’s first time; don’t want to overwhelm the man.

Tomorrow is blood. Friday is chemo. Saturday is rest. Sunday is pumpkin. It’ll be all the activity I can handle, made easier by Zsolt deseeding and carving while I sit by and nod, occasionally napping. After we carve the pumpkin (once it’s dark and spooky outside) we’ll watch a Halloween film. Trouble here is that I have zero tolerance for scary. So, as to what Halloween film we’ll watch I’m not sure. Maybe the Rocky Horror Picture show? Although it looks several kinds of crazy. Is there a Halloween film that leaves you feeling warm and fuzzy (instead of jumpy and paranoid)?

Or we could watch Love Actually again, for the thousandth time. 🙂

Anyhow, it’ll be fun. Why not have a bit of fun?

Just checking up

Posted in Bumpboobs, Chemotherapy, Fertility, Treatment by

That’s that.

Turns out this was a follow up appointment. They just wanted to see ‘where we were’ in our thoughts toward fertility testing, and how far along treatment had progressed. No one scolded anyone for wasting time.

Basically, the fertility clinic is positioned beside the maternity ward, and beside the breast clinic. Therefore walking in for my appointment was slightly emotional. First there are pregnant women everywhere and happy families with gift bags reading ‘baby’ in pink or blue bubble letters. Next there is the breast screening clinic where I had my original biopsy. Finally, the fertility clinic waiting room is beside – can you guess? – beside the very room where I first learnt I had breast cancer.

So Zsolt and I sat for an hour and a half, facing opposite that unfortunate room, until we were called in to see the doctor.

I went through several stages of emotion. Sadness, surprise, resentment (aka jealousy towards these lovely, pregnant mothers) followed by simple exhaustion with the wait time.

Breast cancer care in England is very comprehensive. Not only do they treat the problem, they treat the implications. During our meeting the doctor discussed future testing and how we could ‘get started’ on the road to pregnancy once all my treatments were over. She even mentioned testing Zsolt’s sperm, which surprised me because I had assumed that the emphasis was on my fertility. However – we are a unit, both sides matter.

Comprehensive.

Today was okay. Before the appointment I was nervous to the point of freaking out *why? I don’t  know . . . let’s blame it on the menopause. Now it’s done I feel better.

Plus on the way home while listening to classic fm, they played a rousing bit of music where the fellow kept singing “Figaro, Figaro, Figaro!” That was wonderful. Zsolt and I rocked out.

And there you have it: Fertility mystery appointment solved.

Another fertility consultation

Posted in Bumpboobs, Chemotherapy, Fertility, Treatment by

Today I have an appointment at the fertility clinic. What this appointment is about, well – no one seems to know.

I don’t know. Zsolt doesn’t know. The nurses don’t know. But the appointment exists and since we didn’t cancel it properly all of three months ago when receiving notice of the booking, we’re going in.

I had tried to cancel this meeting. Calling up the breast care nurses we’d had a conversation about why this meeting was scheduled and had concluded it was a mistake. The nurse said she’d cancel it for me and I decided not to worry. That was three months ago.

Last Friday while having just received the dopy drug into my vein, the chemo nurse says, “So, I see you’ll be going to the Princess Ann on Monday.”

“No . . .” My body is sinking.

“Yes,” she replies. “Someone called for your notes yesterday. You have an appointment with the Fertility clinic.”

“What ?” And the world feels so heavy. “We cancelled that meeting.”

“Oh.”

“Do I have to go?” Even my thoughts are getting heavy: have I done something wrong? Will this mistake get me in trouble?

The nurse now wishes aloud that she hadn’t mentioned the appointment because there I am drugged up trying to contemplate another unexpected twist. Thoughts of invitro fertilization and Zolodex are running through my head and I can’t help thinking, “why do they spring these things last minute?” When really, the appointment has been set for three months – regardless of my ignorance to that fact.

Could we still cancel the meeting? It was Friday afternoon, and the meeting was for today – Monday. Should we cancel the meeting? Maybe the doctor will be able to provide new options, or let me know what happens next, or tell how we can check fertility in the future. . . maybe it’s fate that the meeting wasn’t cancelled.

Anyhow, I generally think it’s rude to cancel without sufficient notice. Therefore we are going to this appointment with the doctor who is – as he once mentioned – extremely busy. People wait ages for an appointment, and we’ll be walking in saying something like: hey, how’s it going? Long time no see . . . why are we here?

Oh well. Worst case scenario everyone is confused and we leave within five minutes. Best case – I don’t know! We’ll see.