Thursday 10 December 2015

The one where I find another lump....


 Firstly, I make no apology for the shameless attempt to increase my blog views with the most dramatic title possible, secondly, everything is fine.


It’s been a few weeks since my last bout of narcissism, as you can imagine they have been rather traumatic and although I did think about keeping you all in the loop on the unfolding drama Nathan and I thought it best to write about the experience as a whole once we’d had the nod either way.

All of my Doctors had reassured me that my type of tumour is………correction…….was a random mutation of cells which is unlikely to have been caused by genetic or environmental factors. What that means is that any tumours that appear in the other breast are effectively a new case of breast cancer rather than being related to the original episode. I’m told to be vigilant about reoccurrence in the original site (apparently even though I’ve had the breast removed and a temporary implant inserted, there is still a chance of residual cancer cells developing into new tumours) I also need to be vigilant about secondary metastasis where the cancer cells manage to evade the onslaught of chemotherapy and radiotherapy and find a new home in my liver, lungs, brain or bones (bones isn’t good, bones is game-over).

While every ache and pain does evoke pangs of dread, I have remained positive yet vigilant in my self-examinations and around 3 weeks ago I found a lump.

If I’m really honest, I ignored it for the longest 3 days before plucking up the courage to tell Nathan when it became obvious it wasn’t going away. That was probably one of the hardest conversations of my life (aside from telling my parents and sister about the original diagnosis), we have so many positive things going on in our lives - we’re about to exchange on the house of our dreams, Erica and Nathan are about to start new academic adventures in Ely and my career prospects seem ever more promising - we have absolutely everything to lose.


As much as I have slagged off BUPA in this blog, they were fantastic, I had an appointment with Mr Rashed within three days and he referred me to Mr Hajajj two days after that. Mr Hajajj is my Radiologist and an all-round genius, he spotted my cancer when everyone else said it “was nothing” so I knew that if there was anything there he’d likely be the person to find it. As he progressed from the examination to the ultrasound I listened intently for the clicks - I have learned that clicks mean that he’s taking images and that is not good - that was probably the tensest silence of my life, there is no suitable small talk in that situation and I think we all held our breath.

“My darling, there is nothing there”……. I could have kissed him and I think he was just as relieved as I was that I didn’t! 

I’m resisting inserting a “learning” cliche but there is no more sobering experience than coming face to face with your mortality. I wasn’t scared about going through the treatment again and that made me realise that the fear the first time around was fear of the unknown. 

This time I wasn’t scared of the sickness, the pain, the surgery, the hairloss, the strain on my relationships or the dent in our finances as I knew my enemy well and was damned as hell prepared to keep on giving it the fight it’s never had until it decides to leave me alone. 

I’m terrified that cancer will take away the very things it had taught me to cherish. I thank God for them every day and will never stop doing so.

#fightlikeagirl


Thursday 5 November 2015

Normality is more of a distraction than I expected...

Hello lovely people

I could try to apologise for my tardiness but I've been so remiss in my updates that I wouldn't have any idea how to start! I have been getting back to glorious normality and reminding myself every time that I have a stressful day at work that in comparison, to chemo it's a walk in the park - I'd take a stressful day over a chemo day every time! It's probably similar to my running metaphor, cancer treatment makes you realise just how much suffering you are built to cope with and it provides you with a whole new baseline to compare your rather inconsequential daily gripes with!

The writing that I was enjoying in keeping this blog up to date has now sadly been taken up by my return to the MBA and I can confirm that the output is far less interesting. Although I have missed writing about such riveting subjects like "the reality of efficient market hypotheses" - I would much rather be writing about the my experiences of trying to make sense of this disease. It's amazing how something like cancer can hit the pause button in your life and force you to take stock of just how much you could lose - those things that you don't invest time in as you go about your day to day life.

I have found it incredible just how quickly things do start to go back to normal but those of you who know me well will likely have noticed some post-cancer personality shifts:

  1. On a sporadic and entirely random basis, I remind myself that I came very close to saying goodbye to the most important people in my life. That emulates itself in random displays of affection but thankfully Erica is young enough to still allow me to squeeze her and smother her with kisses as I silently thank my lucky stars that I still have the chance to do it.
  2. I smile to myself every time someone barges me out of the way to get that seat - an experience like this really does give you new perspective on what you should not waste your time getting flustered about. 
  3. No matter what happens in my week - I now know that things could always be a whole lot worse.
  4. My patience was pretty awful before this happened, it's even worse now! Time is precious and I am determined not to miss out on opportunities.
I would never wish cancer on anyone but it really is incredible just how much something like that can make your life utterly shit for one year but has the surprisingly ability to make you a better person as a result.

#fightlikeagirl


Wednesday 14 October 2015

The one where we say goodbye to Jamie...

Jamie, today we had to say goodbye.

We know that you were there with us every step of the way, you gave us so many signals that it started to become funny! I loved it when you made the music skip even though your Dad was adamant that it was absolutely fine, I loved the double rainbow that you put in front of the storm clouds as we left the crematorium and the feather that you sent down for your Mum to keep was something I'll never forget. 

I can't begin to describe how much it meant to see so many of your friends waiting outside as we arrived and how they came and sat in the aisles to make room for everyone. I have never in my life seen so many people in one place  and it's testament to the way you had touched so many of us in your 16 years on this earth.

Nothing is stronger than the love of your family and friends - that was proven today.. As I said before, I will dedicate my life to raise money to fund the research which aims to eradicate the disease that made both of our lives pretty damn rubbish at points.

For some reason the disease decided that I should survive, I can't begin to tell you how guilty that makes me feel but I know that you're with me every step of the way as I kick the hell out of it in a way that would make you proud.

I love you cousin xxxxx


Friday 2 October 2015

The one where cancer fights back...


On Wednesday I dedicated this blog to Jamie and his fearless cancer battle, the very next day he was taken from us. 

Jamie never let anything hold him back and never let the tumours interfere with his life, I think grit, determination and sheer bloody-mindedness are family traits that we share and we are both lucky to be part of such a massive (and mad) Irish family who rally together at times of celebration and grief.

In Jamie's memory I am going to spend the rest of my life raising money to fund the research that will, one day, stop cancer in its tracks. This disease is indiscriminate and unforgiving. Please do what you can, in whatever way works for you, to join me in the battle to destroy it.

Love the people God gave you because he will need them back one day

Jamie Flegg: 17.08.99 - 01.10.15

Wednesday 30 September 2015

It turns out I have some explaining to do........!


I don’t really know where to start… the last couple of days have been a whirlwind to say the least and the media train shows little sign of slowing down. When we took part in the shoot back in July I had very little hair and even less of an idea about just how popular this campaign would become.

Those of you who know me best are more than aware of my ongoing determination to do something positive with this experience; be that encouraging other women to be more pushy with their Doctors or simply offering encouragement to other ladies who may be going through a similar experience. Earlier this year, a very lovely friend forwarded me a Facebook appeal from Breast Cancer Now who were looking for models to take part in a campaign that they were designing with a retail partner. Little did I know that the retail partner in question would turn out to be my employer nor that 2 months later I would be inundated with messages from colleagues across M&S as they recognise my bald head in shop windows! 

The experience has been too emotional to put into words. The shoot took place on my final day of radiotherapy and I could not think of a better group of people to celebrate with, all of the other women in the shots have been affected by the disease so could instantly relate to the emotions that I was feeling, I think it brought everything back which is why there were so many tears on the day but Rosie, Amanda and the M&S Team treated us with such compassion and dignity that we were able to enjoy the moment together and I think that shows in the images that were shared with the world yesterday.

I’ve spent most of the day writing guest blogs and dialling into interviews with the likes of The Sun as I travel around Aberdeen trying (in vain) to concentrate on my day job. I have no idea how big this is going to get but it has become clear that the blog is resonating with many people on a very personal level and that means so much to me.

We must never lose sight of the fact that this fight against cancer is far from over. We need people to see past the pink fluffiness and photos of us in our pants to recognise what needs to be done to stop people dying from this disease. My motivation is to help to raise £13million so that 9,000 women can be saved every year, it’s also to try and ensure that Erica never has to face this wretched disease but even more than that it’s about the wider cancer battle…

I have been called brave and inspirational but I have simply done what every other mother/wife/daughter/sister would have done in the same situation - everyone wants to survive, let’s try and make sure that fewer and fewer people are put into this situation in the first place.

This blog and my part in this campaign is dedicated to my amazing 2nd Cousin Jamie who is a million times more inspirational than me and to the gorgeous Catherine who lost her epic battle at the weekend and was the ultimate example of someone who fought cancer with grace and a smile.

#fightlikeagirl

Thursday 24 September 2015

The one where I get the all clear...

I'm sitting on an empty commuter train at a time that's far earlier than I'm accustomed to after being sent home from the office with tears in my eyes, champagne in my belly and a multitude of mixed emotions... relief....joy....optimism....determination...fear....

I got the news at around 3pm this afternoon, Nathan had phoned the hospital to chase them up and got the most torturing response possible "we have your wife's results but we're not allowed to discuss them, we'll send them to her surgeon". A couple of hours later, I left a message for his secretary to try and get hold of him, not long afterwards the dreaded "NO CALLER ID" showed up on my phone, we all looked at each other at the desk and I made my way into an empty office to be able to take the call.


Mr Rashed's secretary explained that he had left for the day and would not be back until tomorrow, she is such a wonderful lady and has helped me through so much of this wretched journey so knew that there was no way that I could wait that long... "Mr Rashed says that if the report makes it clear that nothing has been found then I am allowed to tell the patient, if there is anything untoward or unusual then I have to pass it onto him........ there is nothing untoward......" 

There really is nothing that prepares you for whichever way that conversation was going to go. I knew that I would cry regardless and was glad to have the privacy to get it out of my system before returning to the expectant faces - who then promptly opened the champagne they'd stashed in the fridge! At the back of my mind I know that I still have 5 years of tests and worry ahead of me but this was the first hurdle to get over and the first time my surgeon has been able to give me some good news.

Our weekend away could not be better timed and I can't wait to get home to give Erica a massive kiss, Nothing ever prepares you for this type of experience, it's a cliche to say that the journey changes you but it really is true. When you look death in the face and blow it a great big raspberry you only do so with the confidence that you have a plethora of supportive family and friends backing you up.  

This stage of my journey is over, now to put it to some good use, thank you for being there for me, you're awesome. 

p.s. Rather randomly, as I was driving home from the station, this song came onto the radio.... someone has been looking out for us...



#fightlikeagirl

Sunday 20 September 2015

The scan day is nigh....

So I FINALLY have a scan date, it's scheduled to take place at Woodlands Hospital on Tuesday, rather ironically it's exactly one week before the big reveal (probably a bad choice of words) and I can't decide whether or not I want the results before I have to face the media. Needless to say, we're keeping everything crossed for a big fat NED (no evidence of disease) and I will be sure to keep you posted. My priority at the moment is to keep myself sufficiently occupied in order to keep my mind off the impending news while simultaneously making the most of every single moment of sweet, sweet obliviousness. Erica started school last week at the same time that I re-enrolled onto the MBA with the encouraging news that I only have 4 more modules and a dissertation to complete at the same time as I readjust to full time work, I've come back swinging and am loving every single minute!

The hair has started to take on a life of its own and is looking scraggly enough for its first trim, luckily enough, I have an appointment with an awesome (and still secret) celebrity hairdresser  in order to make myself presentable for the media circus, he had promised me a cut when the locks returned and has remained true to his word. We're also looking forward to spending next weekend in the gorgeous Strattons Hotel thanks to the fantastic team at the Willow Foundation, a charity who arrange special days for people with critical illnesses. I remain dumbstruck by the kindness that  people continue to show, despite some unfortunate episodes where individuals continue to take advantage of my situation my faith in the human race remains intact; safe in the knowledge that the universe will always right itself.

I'm hoping that you're enjoying the new design, I've discovered some widgets that allow you to see the most popular blogs, keep track of the views and a subscribe button so that you never miss out on the random ramblings that I choose to share with the world. 

#fightlikeagirl

Sunday 6 September 2015

If you try you may lose.... if you don't try you lose for sure - Jens Voigt

Well, my altercations with BUPA continue in earnest and I'm hoping to be able to post a resolution soon before being forced to unleash my worst on social media!

I have gradually been shedding the steroid pounds by setting my alarm for silly-o-clock, rounding up our overly-enthustic labrador and jogging around Rusden Lakes. My recent preference for running does not sit well in a household that's obsessed with cycling but I'm not ashamed to say that I've started to enjoy it. The first couple of outings were hellish, it was like trying to run with dead-weights around my ankles. I mentioned this to my surgeon as I was worried that it may be an indication of cancer in my lungs but he responded with a rueful smile and told me that it's most likely the chemotherapy drugs that are still in my system, it'll take a couple of months for them to clear and I'm going to view it as resistance training!

My blossoming relationship with running has acted as a bit of a metaphor for my recovery, it's amazing to see my performance improve week after week and helps me to feel as if I have some sort of control over this stage of my journey. People ask me whether all of the surgery and treatment have improved my pain threshold, I can assure you that it has made absolutely no difference; chemotherapy provided me with a welcome respite from the plucking and waxing required to manage the (unmentionable) body hair and my recent reinstatement of that particular routine is proving to be more painful than ever!

What I have noticed however is the strange relationship that I've developed with suffering. I have discovered a very odd switch which I didn't previously know was there.  Somehow, I manage to find a way to drown out my screaming legs and lungs by simply reminding myself of how chemo felt - it acts as a bit of a reset button which is where I essentially say to myself "you think this is suffering, you know what real suffering feels like, stop being such a baby."

As the countdown to the 'big-reveal' reaches 20 days, I start to plan a number of guest blogs that I have been asked to write. I don't know how to summarise my experience in a single blog but will likely focus on the cathartic effect that writing this blog has had on me. The fact that you are all continuing to read and share it as widely as you have is still unbelievable. I love writing it and want to thank you for humouring me.

PS, still no scan date, that's a WHOLE other BUPA fight, will keep you posted! 

#fightlikeagirl



Monday 31 August 2015

The one where I pick a fight with BUPA

As you'll probably recall, I had my radiotherapy at NHS Northampton General Hospital and they were absolutely fantastic, a cohesive caring team who made a potentially dreadful experience enjoyable - I haven't laughed so much in months! What I wasn't expecting at the end of it was a bill to arrive for £2,500 with a demand that I make a cheque for said amount to the NHS......! Needless to say, I was dumbfounded and immediately got onto the blower to BUPA to find out what was going on.

BUPA "Did you pre-authorise your radiotherapy?"
Me: "No, I had it on the NHS"
BUPA: "You should have pre-authorised it"
Me: "But I've been paying taxes for 19 years, nobody else in that waiting room had to pay for their radiotherapy"
BUPA: "You're a private patient"
Me: "So why didn't I get private radiotherapy?"
BUPA: "We don't offer private radiotherapy"
Me: "Why didn't you tell me I would get a bill for it?"
BUPA: "You didn't ask"

.... and on and on and on it went. All I can say is that they have picked a fight with the wrong girl, this whole experience has taught me a very important lesson, private medical insurance is great if you've got a bit of a poorly knee and want a comfortable stay after your operation, for critical illness you can't beat the NHS. Cancer on private insurance is an administrative nightmare (I had a bill for £3.50 the other day for "dressings" as I had a plaster during my final round of chemo and it hadn't been authorised.....)

Don't get me wrong, there are many elements of private cover that are brilliant - chemotherapy at home, the best anti-emetics known to mankind and access to some of the best medical professionals in the UK; what tarnishes the experience entirely is the requirement to manage your own treatment at a time when you just need them to be on your side (oddly enough, that's their slogan).

I'm still not allowed to talk about what's happening on 29th September but I have offered BUPA a choice, sort this out before then or they will find my rants about them will go viral, internationally viral....!

Damn, it feels good to be back!

#fightlikeagirl

Monday 24 August 2015

Turn your face to the sun and the shadows fall behind you...

The only excuse I can come up with to explain my blog tardiness over the last couple of weeks is the admission that my life is starting to merge into some sort of normality and therefore should not demand any more attention than it did before we started out on this journey together. Whilst I am still under the care of an Oncologist, I am - for all intents and purposes - no longer a cancer patient. 

My post-treatement scan is due to take place in the first week of September, I’ll continue to take Tamoxifen for at least the next 2 years and will have annual mammograms but those are the only things (coupled with my ‘vigilance’) which will act as my safety net. They advise you be vigilant for symptoms that the cancer may have reoccured or spread but not to allow it to take over your life, that’s easier said than done. They could just as easily have said “off you go into the wilderness, there’s a chance you could be mauled to death by a bear but don’t let that worry you….. just keep an eye out for bears”.

Our trip Rhodes was a perfect way to end the chapter, it’s the first time we’ve succumbed to the package holiday experience but rather than feeling trapped by the walls of the resort we finally got some quality time together just the 3 of us. Sun-worshipping was well and truly off the cards as my chest has gone a lovely shade of purple and has started to peel but I was assured by Mr Rashed this afternoon that it looks very healthy indeed (he must have seen some nasty sights if mine looks healthy…. no photos, it’s not pretty!) 

I was forced to spend my time sitting in the shade drinking the all-inclusive cocktails and sniggering as the lifeguards chased after Erica as she hurled herself into the deep end of the pool (no idea where she gets that from!) Here's a video of Nathan and Erica enjoying the evening entertainment.



What else? Oh yes, the barnet… it’s taking on a life of it’s own! They say that your hair grows back very differently following chemotherapy and I am never one to disappoint. It seems to be coming back some kind of weird ash-blonde but it could be growing back green for all I care, with each passing day I am starting to look more GI Jane than Jabba the Hutt!


All I can say about the teaser from my last blog is to watch this space.... until 29th September...



#fightlikeagirl

Monday 3 August 2015

The one I'm not allowed to talk about......

It's probably not the best blog title in the world but believe it or not my inability to talk about what I was up to last week is contractually binding! What I can say is that it was a fantastic way to mark the end of my radiotherapy and you will hear all about it at the end of September which is when I will likely go into hiding!

As I embark on my two year course of Tamoxifen with the hot flashes that are synonymous with the menopause initiated by the chemotherapy, I still can't quite believe that for all intents and purposes the hospital side of my treatment is over. We went to see the Oncologist this evening and agreed that we'll have the CT scan in the first week of September, he's not expecting to find anything sinister in the pictures and I'm adamant that I will remain positive no matter what happens. As I have probably mentioned before, breast cancer cells are notoriously shady, they don't show up in blood tests and that means the only way we'll know whether or not I'm cured is if no further tumours develop within the next 5 years - it's probably the worst waiting game of my life but I am determined not to let it worry me (that kind of bullshit is easier said than done!)

I also celebrated the end of radiotherapy with a trip to see yet another Plastic Surgeon, we discussed (at length) the various reconstruction options available and agreed that I will most likely be going for a very simple transverse rectus abdominis muscle flap procedure (or TRAM flap to the rest of us), in the simplest way that I can understand it, the surgeon will replace the saline expander which is doing a fantastic job of faking a boob for me with fat and muscle from my belly and will reattach the blood vessels in order to keep the tissues alive. There is no doubt that it is a major operation which will likely take between 8-10 hours and will require a 10 day stay in hospital but by the end of it I will have a beautiful new boob, a 'lifted' healthy boob and a tummy tuck....! How awesome is that?! He paid me a backhanded compliment as he said there isn't quite enough fat on my belly to be able to plan the procedure anytime soon, it normally takes between 6-12 months following radiotherapy for the skin to heal, so we've agreed to aim for January by which time I can spend Christmas stuffing my face as I will be "growing a new boob!"

So, in a nutshell, life is certainly starting to get back to normal and we're all very excited about our family holiday to Rhodes next week. Thank you for not forgetting about us and for all of your lovely messages of support.


#fightlikeagirl




Tuesday 21 July 2015

It's ok not to be ok......

This time eight years ago, I had a belly full of cider and was surrounded by our wonderfully eccentric friends and family. As they dragged me around the dance-floor by the hem of my dress I would never have thought that in 8 years time I'd be sat on the sofa clutching an icepack to a breast which feels like it's picked a fight with a blowtorch. Further still, I can guarantee that this is not what Nathan thought he would be signing up for, after all, with his family history we'd always feared that he'd be the one to fight the cancer Jabberwocky. What's testament to him and to all of you lovely people is the way in which this experience has brought us closer together, it's made me realise just how many incredible friendships we've nurtured and developed over the years, well-wishing cards continue to arrive a full 7 months after I was diagnosed... I am a very lucky girl to have all of you in my life.

Tonight we celebrated our wedding anniversary with a family dinner at Buddies followed by the requisite Tour de France highlights on ITV4, I find myself regularly thanking every conceivable star/angel/statistic that has had the mercy to allow us to enjoy such normality. No matter how difficult things get, never forget how lucky you are to be alive and able to truly appreciate the day to day moments you have with those you love, life gave us lemons, we squished them and used them to make a great big meringue pie with which to stuff our faces!

As you've probably already gathered, the radiotherapy is starting to hurt a bit, the only way I can describe it is a very nasty case of sunburn with the knowledge that you still have 6 days of unprotected sunbathing to come. I've been relatively unscathed by the tiredness so far but I am sure that will creep up on me over the ensuing weeks.

I was invited to speak at a gathering of Store Managers last week to share my 'inspirational story', at first I assumed that they'd invited the wrong Helen as I certainly don't consider my story to be inspirational but I'm the last person to turn down an opportunity to talk about myself for an hour so graciously accepted. I rambled through the career to date and started to share what I thought would be a run of the mill account of how cancer had put a rather inconvenient dent in my plans to scale the M&S career ladder...... and then was unable to find the words.... I froze to the ground and realised that if I uttered a single word I would burst into tears. The room was dark and unfamiliar and 27 strangers were staring at me, it was terrifying, to make matters worse I caught Adam's eye and realised that he was also about to blub. Then a voice behind me said "you're doing great" and that's all I needed to hear. It really is true that the strongest people on the outside are masking their inner fear, I'm not ready to talk about my cancer in public, I'm also not ready to ride my bike for 6 hours at a time but every small step gets me closer to the Helen I was on that dance floor 8 years ago.

Bloody hell, I'm crying again!

#fightlikeagirl 

Monday 13 July 2015

It's starting to feel a lot like normality.....


I'm now 5 days into radiotherapy and am lucky enough to be feeling very few side effects, I was told that this is normal and that the burning and fatigue will likely not kick-in for another 5 or 6 days but I am thoroughly enjoying feeling relatively normal once again. 

The break in nastiness gave me a rather limited respite from symptoms, one which was rudely interrupted by the removal of my portacath - a thoroughly unpleasant experience to undergo while fully conscious but one which marked an important psychological milestone - if my Oncologist wants it out, he's not intending to pump by veins full of chemicals for at least the foreseeable future and I am very happy with that. 

The Radiology team in Northampton General Hospital are a pretty impressive example of a team who genuinely seem to enjoy their work and take a great deal of pride in patient care, some mornings I've been in and out within 10 minutes and others I have been there for over 2 hours, they don't start the radiotherapy until they are 100% happy with the settings so that they can minimise damage to my heart and lungs and maximise opportunities to nuke any resilient cancer cells. The treatment is targeted to my chest and neck with my arm fixed behind my head, my only role is to remain completely still which is a challenge when the process starts to pass the half hour mark and my nose starts to itch!

I was lucky enough to be able to rearrange the radiotherapy sessions so that I could take Erica to school for her first taster session, I was the rather tragic Mummy found blubbing in the playground as Erica waved goodbye without a glance over her shoulder, it struck me then,  as it does on numerous occasions, just how many wonderful experiences there are still to live for and how I intend not to miss a single one.

I've also managed a few more outings on the bike and some rather unsuccessful runs in the morning but they are all starting to help my Strava account to be dusted off and moved from the cold case archives into the 'mild and gentle exercise' category, I have some more silverware to collect before I attempt to regain my Queen of the Mountain trophies but as Dave likes to remind me, it's not a goal unless it's a big hairy audacious goal!

#fightlikeagirl



Monday 6 July 2015

The one where I get a tattoo.......



As the glorious British sunshine marks the end of one chapter, the fact that I now have to use factor 50 suncream reminds me that this journey is not yet over. 

I had my radiotherapy set-up meeting with the Oncologist last week where I was measured up and drawn all over with marker pen (note to self: make sure you clarify when marker pen will be used and avoid arranging a meeting with your boss straight afterwards). I was then moved in and out of the CT scanner like a broken sewing machine needle while they fine-tuned the settings and sealed the deal with 2 fetching permanent tattoos; why they insist on using sailor-blue and can’t give me brown dots I will never understand, cancer has taken a lot away from me but last week gave me my very first tattoos - thanks for that!

I can probably no longer get away with failing to reference Nathan’s blog post…. I must admit, as he’d done such a brilliant job with the articles he’d written for LVIS I was keen to book his services as a guest writer - my visions of being able to chuckle as he recounted our journey using his trademark wit and irony were naive and selfish of me, sometimes I forget how hard all of this is on him, least of all when I come home in tears as others have either sought to profit from my situation or have reminded me about my bleak prognosis by sharing an inappropriate lemon story. He wants to be able to protect me but can’t, I had no idea how hard that is on him and I am determined to play my part in rebuffing such nastiness as it is dished-out!

Following the rather unsuccessful 2 mile outing last week, I met-up with Nicola my rather brilliant partner in crime and we headed out on the bikes for what would normally be a leisurely 15 mile circuit; as I crawled up Swineshead Hill and interrupted the ride with a rather uncharacteristic sobbing fit I realised that this is going to be one of the hardest steps of all - accepting that things will not magically go back to the way they were, it’s going to take all of the grit and determination left in me to do it but those of you closet to me have already proven that I will never be left to do it alone - it’s to those of you who have stuck with us through thick and thin that I owe more than I can ever repay. 

#fightlikeagirl

Sunday 28 June 2015

The one where Helen delegates to Nathan....... (sorry!)

So Helen has asked (read “told”) me to write her latest blog entry in order to try and give a different perspective to the last 6 months- pretty much to the day in fact. Therefore this post may not reflect Helen’s views and she accepts no responsibility for what will no doubt be a poorly thought out rant.

Those of you that know me, know that I have a habit of “wearing my heart on my sleeve.”, if this post offends you, I apologise but I’m going to say it as I see it. I’ll manage some expectations here and now- rather fittingly I have no idea what or how to write about what has really been a dark half year. Sorry-  I can assure you normal “perky” service will be resumed next week. 

I think the first thing that springs to mind is the disbelief that it has actually been 6 months since we first began trying to cope with a very vague, bleak and unpleasant immediate future. I think it’s fair to say I didn’t deal with the initial diagnosis well. Having made acquaintances with cancer in the past, my immediate reaction was to expect the worst case scenario and try and plan with that in mind- impossible to do and ultimately futile. People will say this is a typically pessimistic, "glass half full" Nathan approach. As normal I’m more than happy to disagree! I like to be prepared so anything that appears as a silver lining beyond the shadows of my dark little cloud is a bonus. Let’s be clear there have been a lot of bonuses as a result so I get to sit back with a wry smile on my face. 

To see Helen now (hopefully) at the end of her Chemo and just beginning her Radiotherapy is truly fantastic. I know at the beginning there was a lot of hippy ( :-) ) chat about eating lentils mung beans  and other "anti-cancer” food. I’d really like to credit a change in lifestyle with Hel’s continued progress yet Helen’s continued flirtation with KFC, curry and wine throughout her treatment would suggest otherwise; her Oncologist confirmed as much when he underlined the need for a positive, can-do state of mind. It’s clear Hels has always had this in spades. 

I think at this point its massively appropriate to attribute some of her eternal optimism to all the well wishers and support we have had, everything from the highly vocal support from close friends to the subtle, less tangible "hand on shoulder" that I may have had here or there. 

Yet, cancer clearly scares the hell out of most people and I think that’s why, despite people’s best efforts, you do get some fairly inappropriate comments from people who are just desperate to offer some sort of input “ Oh, I  had a friend who had Cancer….blah blah- they died- blah blah” Thanks, thanks for that. It’s comments like these that have prompted Hels and I to deal with this in the most off hand way we can think of; so now we talk of “Lemons” - 

“ Oh, I was talking to a woman at work whose friend had some lemons..”
“Really? What sort? Were they really bitter?” 
“Not sure, I got the impression there might have been some limes in there too” 

Now this isn’t to say that we don’t appreciate all the help we’ve had and God knows we’ve had A LOT (and will continue to do so unless this Blog annoys everyone and you all leave in droves) but some stuff just has not been helpful,  well at least not that I can see. If recommendations about TV shows etc, with a high lemon content and an unpleasant, bleak and “zesty” conclusion could be avoided I would greatly appreciate it. Yes it may be cathartic, it may even help Hels and others currently munching their way through a whole lemon grove come to terms with their illness and mortality but for family members dealing with the fallout, it really does us no favours at all. 

Normally I’m the one who has to apologise for my galling lack of tact and diplomacy but there have been times when the sheer ignorance of people’s comments has made me absolutely seethe. I don’t mind admitting that if I ever meet some of the offending characters that have previously featured in Helen’s blog I will joyfully serve up a healthy dose of scathing wit and sharp tongued justice that will make your eyes water more so than any lemons might. Also for any opportunists who see other peoples’ misfortune as a chance to feather their own nests; life has a way of paying you back in spades. 

Cancer makes you fiercely protective. Who knew?

I really hope I haven’t offended anyone (that we care about). This post isn’t really what I intended, perhaps a nice lesson for my year 10s about the importance of planning your work before writing but that’s for another blog entirely. 

#fightlikeagirl

Sunday 21 June 2015

The one where I get back on the bike......

As I continue to shake-off the side effects of the final round of chemo I find myself clocking up a rather impressive tally of post-diagnosis 'firsts'. Unfortunately my scalp still refuses to sprout any new locks and my attempt to "fake-it" with glue-on lashes failed spectacularly when their removal ripped-out the pitiful few that had survived the chemo regime but none of that has succeeded in wiping the smile off my face, this journey is starting to feel like it has a conclusion. 

The plastic surgeon injected an additional 250ml of saline into my fetching temporary rectangular implant and it had a rather unexpected impact on my confidence; I found myself admiring my new rack at every opportunity, even that small change was enough to make me feel relatively normal again, it's not enough to make me brave a bikini on holiday - I'll save that for the reconstruction at the end of the year. 

The most dramatic first has undoubtedly been my return to the bike. She had been feeling rather unloved as I hadn't paid her any attention since the diagnosis back in December but it seemed that all was forgiven as I braved the turbo-trainer for the obligitory celebratory photos and a flash of misguided inspiration convinced myself to get onto the tarmac. I can't describe how proud I am to finally  wear the special edition LVIS kit in support of this blog and in honour of everyone fighting breast cancer.

Unfortunately no matter how awesome your kit looks it won't make you go any faster. By the time I reached the top of our hill I was convinced that I was about to pass-out. I probably only managed to ride 2 miles at the most but they're the most important 2 miles I've ever clocked. It's crazy to think that those same wheels carried me from Edinburgh to Paris back in the summer of 2009. I rode over 1,000 miles that summer but today only 2 made me feel physically sick.

Cancer has taken enough away from me, it's not having this, I'll work back up to fitness one mile at a time.

#fightlikeagirl 



Monday 15 June 2015

The one where the boys do us proud.....


I can't quite believe that I am typing these words..... chemotherapy is over!!!!


As luck would have it, the final round really wasn't that bad, I'm sure that had a lot to do with my state of mind but I can confidently say that it could have been much worse. Don't get me wrong, Docetaxel loves to control your movements ensuring that a toilet is always within sprinting distance and it has made a last-ditch grab at the pitiful fuzz that was starting to grow back on my baldie-head but I don't care, I've got that monkey off my back and I am a very happy girl.


So what's next I hear you shout.....? Well, I go for my "inflation" next week which is where my plastic surgeon will insert saline into my lovely rectangular temporary boob in order to expand the skin and then I go for the radiotherapy "fitting" which is where they set the machine up to remember said lovely rectangular dimensions, tattoo the settings onto my skin ready to start blasting my chest and neck with radioactive isotopes the following week. Believe me, I will take all of that over chemotherapy any day!


As you have probably noticed, Nathan and the LVIS boys did us proud in their own 24 hours of hell racing pro-tour riders in Italy while I was curled-up in my chemo cave and they have managed to raise over £2,000 for breastcancercare as a result. Everywhere they go the kit seems to grab attention, so much so that it's prompted a factory re-run, I never thought I'd have my name plastered over so many bums - my life is now complete!!


This is starting to turn into a hyperactive ramble so I will sign off before I hurt myself. I honestly cannot put into words how good it feels to feel good and to know that the plan as it stands is not to go through that bullshit again, your support continues to get us through this, we're not done yet but I am well and truly back in business - now I just have to lose 20 pounds - bummer!


#fightlikeagirl  GO VEGAS!


Thursday 11 June 2015

Last round of chemo......DONE!

It now looks like we'll be set to reach 2 milestones by the end of this week, I'll be curled up in my chemo cave counting down the last few days of the fog and this humble blog will have reached 100,000 views! This time last year I was completely oblivious to the fact that those things would be important to me but they both represent just how much can change in 9 months.

As if the last day of chemo wasn't enough, it seems that I will now only be having 3 weeks of radiotherapy and have managed to negotiate an early slot at the hospital each day so can get on with relative normality while my chest and neck are blasted with radiation. That means, all being well, treatment will be finished on 26th July! Hormone therapy and the management of my menopause will continue long after that but I'd take them over chemo and radiotherapy any day.

Don't forget, Nathan and the LVIS boys will be off to Italy at the weekend to put themselves through their own 24 hours of hell racing against some of Europe's fastest tour riders, there is still time to sponsor them and ensure that your pennies make it over to Breast Cancer Care - an organisation that have pulled me back from the brink on many occasions, for example, when I became concerned about persistent breathlessness and, thanks to Google, became convinced that the cancer had spread to my lungs, a conversation with the helpline and a simple check of my blood count clarified that it was likely caused by reduced platelet counts - Nathan then helpfully speculated as to whether or not I may be able to get hold of some EPO - ever the supportive and selfless husband! Here's the shameless sponsorship link. and you can follow their progress here

Although my journey is far from over, with your help and support I am emerging from the epic-downer that's been plaguing me for the last couple of months. I've lost body parts, experienced indescribable pain, started the menopause, lost friends and gained friends but have developed an unfaltering clarity about what really is important in my life. I felt compelled to put those things together in a video in order to remind me just how lucky I really am (if you're watching this on a mobile device it's likely you won't be able to see the embedded video so you'll need to head over to the YouTube link..)



I'll let you know how the final round of chemo pans out and look forward to sharing the hair regrowth selfies!

#fightlikeagirl




Saturday 6 June 2015

If it doesn't challenge you, it won't change you....

As I contemplate the 6th and final round of chemo I find myself reflecting on the many guises that the journey has taken. It’s annoying as hell to describe it as a journey but there really is no other metaphor that fits; you need to get from one point to another, you don’t really know what’s going to happen along the way and you sure as hell don’t make it alone. I’ve been to some pretty dark places and have learned to appreciate what's really important. Cancer is one of the most unforgiving levellers you can ever have in your life, you can either mope about the fact that the disease has chosen you or you can choose to turn the experience into a positive.

It still continues to amaze me just how popular my warbling blog has become, we now measure views in the tens of thousands but I still remember doing a mini fist-pump when it first reached five hundred! I had no idea what I wanted it to be when I first started writing it back in January but I really have found it to be an essential part of my healing process. The stories I’ve heard about women who had been sent away by their GP’s read the blog and were then diagnosed after going back and insisting on a referral are what keep me going, some of those women didn't require treatment after surgery because it was caught early - that is an indescribable feeling. 

I found the 2nd round of docetaxel to be more than a little unpleasant but am happy to report that, as a result, KFC is firmly off the menu. I’ve gone from craving fatty food to loathing it and although I have allowed myself to eat whatever I damn well please as I go through chemotherapy, I have committed to introducing healthier food back into my life once round 6 is over. 

On a spur of the moment act of impulsiveness we've booked ourselves a holiday to mark the end of radiotherapy, an all inclusive family package holiday is probably Nathan's idea of hell but is exactly what we need. This experience has been tough on all of us and we don't know whether or not it's over, it's a good chance for us to regroup as a family and take stock of just how lucky we are.

So please spare me a thought on Tuesday as I take on the final dose of Docetxel and play a loop of Ed Sheeran's Bloodstream, that song has got me through what felt like endless hours of chemo fog. I'm the luckiest girl to have such amazing friends and family, I feel like you've lived this with us and I can't even begin to thank you for the support that you've given us, we've all been on this journey together, it's not over yet but the fog is starting to clear!

#fightlikeagirl


Tuesday 26 May 2015

The finish line is just the beginning of a whole new race......


We had expected harsher side-effects from this round of Docetaxel as the cumulative effects of 5 rounds did their bidding so we did everything we could to make the process easier. Mum kindly gave-up her self-contained sanctuary at the end of the house as my chemo-cave and it worked a treat. The side-effects kicked-in within 24 hours but being able to lie in bed listening to her and Erica chase each other around the garden for the subsequent 5 days was medicine in itself.

I remember watching an interview with Kylie Minogue shortly after I was diagnosed and she spoke about the importance of being selfish in order to allow yourself to recover; I think that point has only just resonated with me. People have constantly been nagging me to the point of distraction to "take it easy dear", "you're doing too much", "you need to let your body recover". I hate that advice but I now realise that it really means "you need to be selfish". Allowing myself to truly become a patient and to relinquish control of my treatment was the hardest and most important lesson that I've learnt so far. Those of you who know me well will likely be sniggering at this point, I don't like not being in control, I think I lost control about 3 posts ago following the baldie comment and it was probably one of the most clarifying moments so far.

Don't get me wrong, now that I'm dropping the bravado I have spent an inordinate amount of time worrying about my prognosis - I can't control whether or not I'm going to survive this and I hate it but I refuse to let cancer define me.

I'm now weirdly intrigued by this disease, not to the point where I am researching emerging therapies and hippie herbal treatments but I am intrigued by the concept of cancer. It's been fuelled by a brilliant book that I've only recently discovered called "The Emperor of All Maladies" which is a Pulitzer prize-winning biography of cancer. I like the fact that it doesn't seek to make cancer sufferers out to be heroes like most of the infuriating books that people encourage me to read - it helps me to demystify and almost respect the complexity of the cells that have somehow made their way into my body.

Ramble over..... one more round of chemo and it's onto radiotherapy, 4 weeks later we do a scan - that scares the shit out of me!

#fightlikeagirl


Wednesday 20 May 2015

The one where I start to rediscover my mojo...
















As I successfully tick-off chemo round five and breathe-in the gorgeous Dartmoor air before retreating to my cave to endure the inevitable onset of side-effect roulette, I'd like to share with you some truths that I have reconciled in my mind following the self-absorbed week of darkness from which I am now emerging:
  1. I have been incredibly fortunate throughout my life, I've lived in some of the most fascinating corners of the world, developed life-long friendships along the way and can boast a very large and loving family. My parents have sacrificed so much to give my sister and I the best possible start in life and for that I am eternally grateful. They have taught us that when opportunity doesn't knock then it's up to you to build a door.
  2. Although it breaks my heart that we will never be able to have another child of our own, we are blessed with a kind, gentle and beautiful little girl (like her Daddy) who is hellbent on challenging the world around her (no idea where she gets that from...!) I'm going to make the most of every precious moment I have with her and will always remind her how much she is loved.
  3. My husband is awesome and gorgeous and will be one of the most successful bike shop owners in the country.
  4. I'm going to face my prognosis head-on. I have stage IIIc cancer, my chances of being alive within the next 5 years are anywhere between 41% and 67%. I'm lucky that my cancer is hormone receptive so hormone therapy should help to keep me at the upper-end of these odds but I'm now going to place a much heavier emphasis on the power of positive thinking.
  5. Once radiotherapy is over, we have some lovely trips and celebrations to look forward with some of our amazing friends.
  6. I don't care what the narrow-minded oi-baldie-shouting imbeciles think, I am going to embrace the baldness. My hair will grow back, they will spend their lives wishing they'd tried harder at school!
 
#fightlikeagirl