In the breast of health...

175. Next Day

E’s lump is still there but her temp has gone down a bit. All the NEBB girls are crossing everything. Her antibiotics have finished. Lets hope that the end of it.

One of the young members of my support group, NEBB, has already had the big operation that I’m planning on; double mastectomy and reconstruction from my stomach. I saw her during our weekend in York, five weeks post op and she was doing really well. Her boobs were healed and looked good. I’ve followed her progress eagerly, for very obvious reasons.

So when I saw on our FB page that she’d found a lump in one of her new boobs I was horrified. She had to come home early from her holiday with her husband and her two kids (5 and 11) to get checked. No one was able to give her an answer to start with. For over a week, our whole group worried and posted online and discussed.

In theory, she shouldn’t’ve been able to get a new tumour there. The lump was in the fat that had been taken from her stomach. There was no breast tissue left there. No breast tissue, no cancer. In theory. But still. In a person that had never had cancer, the worry would only be slight. But we’ve faced cancer, faced death in fact. So we know a lump can be life threatening.

Cellulitis is diagnosed. Antibiotics are prescribed.

173. Family Ties

We drive to my mums Saturday. Lovely lunch with my mum and I and then we go out to the fabric shop and to have a wander around the shops. We stop for a coffee and then go home to relax.

I’s cake from her granny is a Powerpuff girl cake. I’ve brought everything with me to make mine for her. Green cake and lilac icing. Yum!

I goes off to meet her old uni mates for the evening. I settle down with my mum to watch TV. I comes in late, saying she has fallen over and bumped her head. She feels sick and gags but doesn’t throw up. Concussion goes through my mind but I think the best thing for her would be to sleep it off.

Next day, I is acting weird. Not happy. She’s staying in Norwich to go to a barbecue with a friend. Except she’s not sure she wants to. After a lot of prevaricating, I ask what’s wrong and she starts to cry. She wasn’t out with her friends the night before, she’d gone to see the on/off bloke that she’s liked for the last couple of months. He’s not really interested unfortunately and she’s back in her pattern of breaking up and making up with a boy. I hate that I’ve got to go home tonight and leave her on her own, so unhappy.

She decides to go back to Bury that night instead of staying over. I’m going home that way so take her. It adds time to my journey but she’s my girl. In the car she’s tearful and sad. When I left to move up North two years before she was like this over a different stupid boy. I HATE seeing her like it again.

172. Road Trip

So I saw I three weeks ago. But its her birthday. While I don’t think I’m dying, I do have a worry in the back of my mind that my bad shoulder could be the beginnings of cancer metastasizing to my bones. So on some level I’m concerned that this might be my last chance to see I on her birthday.

Normally, I’d catch the train when I’m going home for the weekend mid term. Because R has a fridge for I though, as well as the bookcases and the table that she wants from me, I determine to drive. We finish at school at 2.30 on Thursdays and Fridays so I can get on the road early.

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I make sure I’m done at work in plenty of time. I’m on the road and off in good time. Traffic is heavy going past Newcastle but I try to be patient. It takes me an hour to get past which is irritating because it’s a four hour bloody drive, minimum. This turns it into five hours.

Still, once past the toon, I’m motoring. No careful speed restrictions tonight. I do at least 80 and sing along to the radio, determined to keep my mood up. Until the first traffic alert. Bloody A1 is blocked at Weatherby. I calculate in my head how far I’m OK to drive before having to come off the A1. Another couple of alerts describe whets happened. A Mercedes has rolled, crashing into the central reservation.

I leave the motorway and after consulting R, try to take an alternate route. Then the next traffic alert informs me that the A19 and the one other road to the South is also blocked. FFS! What do I do? Do I drive on and possibly sit all night in a traffic jam or turn back and go next weekend?

I determine to go on. I sit and sit and sit. There’s a novel in my bag which I read until finally, traffic moves on. I get to Bury nine hours after I left home. My back is cricked and I can barely move. But it’s all worth it when I see my girl. My birthday girl. J

171. Cover

I’d determined to chisel out a role for myself this term. My hysterectomy was booked for 11^th October but that left loads of time. I put myself on the cover list and waited. Sure enough, the work started trickling in. The first couple of times I was very apprehensive but I soon got used to it.

I mainly cover English. No class (so far) has been unbearable. A couple of year 9 classes have been a bit bouncy. I covered one for S that was so noisy I had to send them out to come in to the classroom again in a more controlled manner. Three kids couldn’t manage it so I sent them to the duty office which is a punishment room. Getting sent there is automatically a whole school detention.

I’ve also been doing controlled assessment catch-up’s for any of the English department. A controlled assessment is in effect a mini exam, performed under exam conditions in a classroom but prepared in the classroom with the teacher.

In the times between cover and controlled assessment, I’ve been writing a scheme of work for next half term for exam practise. Normally I like writing schemes of work, but this is boring! My own fault. I picked it.

170. New Year

One week off after getting back up North and then back to work. It was FAB to see everyone, at least initially. First day back briefing had a lot of information, most of which I didn’t take in. Until the end when the head announced two deaths through the summer hols. Both from cancer. One from breast cancer. The bald teacher that had so shocked me when I’d come across her in the corridor the previous September when I was post lumpectomy but pre-chemo.

I tried to maintain my composure but didn’t manage it and started to cry. Hopefully not many people noticed. How embarrassing.

169. She’s getting married…

The hen party was weird. I was the oldest there by a looooooong way. The wedding, obviously, was different. I hadn’t been able to find a dress so wore one I’d made a few weeks before. When I fitted the dress it was pre-breast reduction. The front was a cross over and gaped due to my boob size. Post reduction the front fits very well. Unfortunately the waist didn’t fit because of the weight I’d put back on. Grrrrrr

We were quite early at the church. H’s grandmother was there. H had a very difficult childhood and her Gran was probably the only parental figure she had that loved and supported her through it all.

I looked gorgeous. She had on a homemade fascinator that I’d made her along with her new, gold dress that looked amazing against her skin. I had on my homemade dress and the red hat I’d bought in London at the V&A.

When the bride came into the church, it brought tears to my eyes. She looked absolutely beautiful. To think that she and my little girl were at school together, rebellious and angry. Part of me wished it was I walking up the aisle. Not to strike too negative a note, I would really like her to find someone to be with. Nothing wrong with being single, but if the dreaded C gets me I would really like to think that she had someone to support her through it.

The wedding was a bit of a mix. H and the groom looked stunning as did the grooms men. The bridesmaids were a bit alternative. They had on short pink dresses and Converse trainers. Secretly, the bride had on Converse too, tartan ones that matched the groom’s kilt. Parts of the ceremony were very moving. I have to admit to being relieved when it was over though. All that standing still was making me twitchy.

The reception was OK although I peaked far too soon with the gin and tonics. The food was good though. We ate and hung around as long as was polite and then I drove us back to I’s.