This morning, got up sluggishly, because I was stressed last night and took a tranquiliser, so therefore wasn’t functioning well. I don’t like taking them but when I’m worrying about the cancer I can’t sleep. If I’m at R’s, he is very restless at night now; linked or not I don’t know, but it makes my sleep even worse.
ANYWAY, couldn’t shower because of the dressing so again, washed. Facing the mirror, felt the lump. Now two again. &*9)+*????? This morning, I chose to see this as good. If it's fluid/blood, it will change and alter. By this evening however, I’m faltering again. I just wish it would go away. I’m at the point now, that if they tell me it’s a haematoma/seroma, I’d really like it drained. Not that what I want will make any difference. Treatment is set despite the patient’s wishes.
This evening my mum also phoned. I saw two missed calls on the phone so called her back. I have to be honest, I dread it. The tone of her voice, her lack of tact about how she asks me and doesn’t work her way up to it. The cancer is top of my list, but what I REALLY need from others is some normality. R is really good at this, and surprisingly, at the moment, so is I. They both just carry on, focusing on the now of daily life, which is a real relief. When I talk to my mum, I feel forced to support HER and to reassure HER. Really, really not fair. I’m certain I’m not a selfish person usually. I have no problem putting my own stuff aside to support others or empathising with how they feel. I can imagine how my poor mother feels; having a child with cancer must be awful. I don’t even want to THINK about I getting it. But right now, its me that has it and me that has to be brave. I’m waking up at night, scared I’m going to die; scared I’ll have to have a mastectomy. I really don’t think its unreasonable to expect my mother to try to be supportive of me right now. This makes me really fear another aspect of my mortality. If the fear of dying from cancer isn’t enough (the pain and suffering makes me sweat with fear) but I’ve also got to consider how I will help others with how they feel about it. I don’t resent having to do it for I. She’s my child and I expect to have to do it for her.
This really is just a wholly shitty situation. All I really want is to teach and live a modest life. WHY is this so much to ask?
Results day tomorrow. Is there any fucking wonder I’m going nuts?
Monday, 30 August 2010
31. Two become one...
Woke up yesterday morning, obsessively as always, felt the lump. No longer two. Now definitely one. What????
30. I am my breasts...
After two months waiting, Homebase are finally delivering my wardrobe. I was at R’s last night, so I had to get up early because for some unknown but very stupid reason, I’d arranged for delivery between 7.30am and lunchtime. WTF? We were up late the night before, sex is as good as ever I’m pleased to report, so dragging myself out of bed at 7am was not fun.
The wardrobe was delivered at 7.45. I went straight back to bed, not waking up again until 11ish. I couldn’t have a shower, because the dressing this time isn’t waterproof, so had to wash instead. Déjà vu. While washing, I watched my boob. It still looked a bit lumpy to the right of the scar. Unable to help myself, I felt it. Not quite as sore, I was able to prod and feel. Yep, still two lumps to the right. The tissue to the left, while firm, was not lumpy to the same degree. While feeling the lumps on the left, I felt something between the two of them move very slightly. Is this a good or a bad thing? Who the hell knows? Feeling fractionally more philosophical, I put my bra on again. While the bra is on, it’s very difficult to tell if the lump is there or not, so in a way, it prevents my obsessional prodding during the day. The new bra is such a hassle to get on and off, being so closely fitting, it prevents the OCD that I’m developing about my left breast. Perhaps that should have been the name of this bloody blog. Never mind male objectification defining me by my breasts, bloody cancer is definitely doing that. If my boobs are well, so am I.
The wardrobe was delivered at 7.45. I went straight back to bed, not waking up again until 11ish. I couldn’t have a shower, because the dressing this time isn’t waterproof, so had to wash instead. Déjà vu. While washing, I watched my boob. It still looked a bit lumpy to the right of the scar. Unable to help myself, I felt it. Not quite as sore, I was able to prod and feel. Yep, still two lumps to the right. The tissue to the left, while firm, was not lumpy to the same degree. While feeling the lumps on the left, I felt something between the two of them move very slightly. Is this a good or a bad thing? Who the hell knows? Feeling fractionally more philosophical, I put my bra on again. While the bra is on, it’s very difficult to tell if the lump is there or not, so in a way, it prevents my obsessional prodding during the day. The new bra is such a hassle to get on and off, being so closely fitting, it prevents the OCD that I’m developing about my left breast. Perhaps that should have been the name of this bloody blog. Never mind male objectification defining me by my breasts, bloody cancer is definitely doing that. If my boobs are well, so am I.
29. First sighting...
Had the wound dressed for the third time. Very nice practise nurse. Different one to last time. The wound is very clean and sealed. So good in fact that she took the steri strips (no stitches at all) off. It didn’t hurt at all although a couple pulled areas of the scab off causing a very small amount of localised bleeding.
I asked her again about the lumpiness. She also said fluid, but I wasn’t convinced. She was really nice but I got the impression she was trying to reassure me.
The worst bit about all of this is that I feel so much like I’m on my own. I could be developing / finding another lump and no one really seems to listen. I KNOW I’m neurotic about this but WHAT IF?
Later on today I went to get another bra. The one I had for hospital is OK, sensible, practical but I feel like I’m wearing my granny’s underwear. The assistant in Bravissimo was really young but very helpful. She suggested I try lots of stuff on to see what worked. I wanted a bra that supported the operated side, to support it, to reduce the chances of fluid building up. The assistant stayed in the room while I was changing. Given that so far only the nurses have seen my boob, not even R, I had a pang of self consciousness and didn’t know if I could but then thought, I’ve had bloody breast cancer, NO ONE wants it or chooses it and I really have nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about. So I whipped off the bra and tried loads on. She made suggestions and we had a chat. Turned out she’d just qualified as a teacher but hadn’t managed to find a job yet. I finally settled on a bra that was rigidly supportive but not too tight on the smaller side and still just about manageable on the larger side.
The operated side has reduced by 3 cup sizes. Amazing, considering when my bra is on the difference doesn’t show. No wonder Mr H. (consultant) suggested a reduction. NOOOOO. I’ll have an implant instead AND a lift on the unaltered side. I like my big boobs and if I can come out of this with nicer boobs than before, so much the better!
I asked her again about the lumpiness. She also said fluid, but I wasn’t convinced. She was really nice but I got the impression she was trying to reassure me.
The worst bit about all of this is that I feel so much like I’m on my own. I could be developing / finding another lump and no one really seems to listen. I KNOW I’m neurotic about this but WHAT IF?
Later on today I went to get another bra. The one I had for hospital is OK, sensible, practical but I feel like I’m wearing my granny’s underwear. The assistant in Bravissimo was really young but very helpful. She suggested I try lots of stuff on to see what worked. I wanted a bra that supported the operated side, to support it, to reduce the chances of fluid building up. The assistant stayed in the room while I was changing. Given that so far only the nurses have seen my boob, not even R, I had a pang of self consciousness and didn’t know if I could but then thought, I’ve had bloody breast cancer, NO ONE wants it or chooses it and I really have nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about. So I whipped off the bra and tried loads on. She made suggestions and we had a chat. Turned out she’d just qualified as a teacher but hadn’t managed to find a job yet. I finally settled on a bra that was rigidly supportive but not too tight on the smaller side and still just about manageable on the larger side.
The operated side has reduced by 3 cup sizes. Amazing, considering when my bra is on the difference doesn’t show. No wonder Mr H. (consultant) suggested a reduction. NOOOOO. I’ll have an implant instead AND a lift on the unaltered side. I like my big boobs and if I can come out of this with nicer boobs than before, so much the better!
28. Reassurance?
Since Tuesday and finding the lump, I’ve continually tried to reassure myself. My boob was making a weird watery noise that R described as a hot water bottle noise. The practise nurse agreed with the breast care nurse that it could be fluid. She also thought it might be milk ducts. Certainly, the lump is a different shape to the other one. Elongated. AND the area to the right of the lump is enlarged and lumpy too. But for goodness sake. I had surgery to remove the lump (or lumps if there was more than one).
S said that it could be a thing called a seroma. I read up on it online and a seroma is an accumulation of fluid that isn’t an infection and isn’t a haematoma. It SHOULD reabsorb on its own but sometimes they don’t and then they have to be drained. S had to have his seroma drained when he had his ops. I also looked on the RVI website and 1 in 3 patients having breast surgery develops a seroma. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, let this be all that is wrong. One thing that did occur to me, is that NO ONE at any point has warned me about this.
I know a lot of the news so far has been good, but honestly, at the moment I really feel like I could end it all myself. It just seems to be shock and stress, after shock and stress. If this is what life is going to be like now, I really don’t want much more of it.
S said that it could be a thing called a seroma. I read up on it online and a seroma is an accumulation of fluid that isn’t an infection and isn’t a haematoma. It SHOULD reabsorb on its own but sometimes they don’t and then they have to be drained. S had to have his seroma drained when he had his ops. I also looked on the RVI website and 1 in 3 patients having breast surgery develops a seroma. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, let this be all that is wrong. One thing that did occur to me, is that NO ONE at any point has warned me about this.
I know a lot of the news so far has been good, but honestly, at the moment I really feel like I could end it all myself. It just seems to be shock and stress, after shock and stress. If this is what life is going to be like now, I really don’t want much more of it.
27. One step forwards, several back
Tuesday. 5 days post op. GCSE results day.
I’m still at home so I got up early, to get in to school for 9am. This day has been my target and what I’ve looked forward to, throughout all of the nightmare. I had my first shower. BLISS! While I was drying my hair I left my bra off, which meant I looked at my boob. Which led to feeling it. And time stopped. Another lump.
No thoughts other than terror.
I tried to go to school but while I was driving I started crying. Not only was I not up to going to school but I couldn’t drive. I was going past R’s so instead I turned the car around and went to his. Entry one, two months ago, repeated. Tears. Terror.
I sent S a message explaining I couldn’t come in. Not a problem obviously, but then she started sending me messages telling me how some of my kids had done. Not a total distraction but a bit. And then she phoned, giving me lots more info. The more I knew, the more I wanted to be there to see them. So R drove me in. It wasn’t the joyous day it should have been and it really should have been because nearly all of my pupils had done really well. This FUCKING cancer. But at least I went and at least I saw them.
Later on, I phoned the breast care nurse line. Three times with no reply. I was becoming hysterical so I phoned the consultants secretary. She said she’d speak to him and get back to me. Eventually the breast care nurse phoned back. She tried to reassure me but it didn’t help really. She said I could be examined when I went for my follow up appointment next Tuesday (WAITING another week again. Am I waiting to die really?!) but that I’d have no more scans or mammograms. I feel like I’m dying again.
I’m still at home so I got up early, to get in to school for 9am. This day has been my target and what I’ve looked forward to, throughout all of the nightmare. I had my first shower. BLISS! While I was drying my hair I left my bra off, which meant I looked at my boob. Which led to feeling it. And time stopped. Another lump.
No thoughts other than terror.
I tried to go to school but while I was driving I started crying. Not only was I not up to going to school but I couldn’t drive. I was going past R’s so instead I turned the car around and went to his. Entry one, two months ago, repeated. Tears. Terror.
I sent S a message explaining I couldn’t come in. Not a problem obviously, but then she started sending me messages telling me how some of my kids had done. Not a total distraction but a bit. And then she phoned, giving me lots more info. The more I knew, the more I wanted to be there to see them. So R drove me in. It wasn’t the joyous day it should have been and it really should have been because nearly all of my pupils had done really well. This FUCKING cancer. But at least I went and at least I saw them.
Later on, I phoned the breast care nurse line. Three times with no reply. I was becoming hysterical so I phoned the consultants secretary. She said she’d speak to him and get back to me. Eventually the breast care nurse phoned back. She tried to reassure me but it didn’t help really. She said I could be examined when I went for my follow up appointment next Tuesday (WAITING another week again. Am I waiting to die really?!) but that I’d have no more scans or mammograms. I feel like I’m dying again.
26. One week post-op
Well. It’s been a bit of a week since my op. SO much has happened that I can’t really believe so little time has passed.
On the very plus side, I is much more sorted out and happier. I can see now that she was just really scared and stressed. Bless her. I’m speaking to her most days (at her insistence). She is SO much better I feel quite guilty about how awful she must have been feeling. Her Facebook messages have been very random but still all related to me and the cancer, so it’s obviously been foremost in her mind. I’ve had a bit of a baking binge on lately so sent her some cheese straws. Her next request is Yorkshire puddings. In the post; they’d be like rocks!
R had a bit of a blip, not sure what was going on, and he’s so reticent about what he’s thinking and feeling that I’m still not really sure. Anyway, he was so weird that I went home for 4 days. No real big deal, although it was quite hard being on my own so soon after an op. I felt quite surreal really. I was initially very nervous of my boob but there was no real reason. I had no problems with it. No real soreness. I was wearing my big supportive bra, bought specially for after the op. Fine in the house but outside it made me feel alternately like someone’s granny or like an invalid.
So. No real pain. Fear of the unknown for a wound really, never having had one before. The wound was dressed by the nurse on Saturday. I had no intention of looking at it because I’m ridiculously squeamish at the best of times and this was hardly that. Still. I did. And it was OK. A bit of a shock, but no where near as bad as it could have been. And given that this was only 2 days post op, not bad at all really. The shape of my boob has actually been improved by the op. It has been pulled up a bit so is far less saggy than the right side. My nipple is facing forwards for the first time in 20 years. Yes, the bruising is bad, and the blue die is unsightly, but they’re temporary. There IS a flat area where the tumour was removed. But looking at it, from the front AND sideways, it is obvious to even the uninformed that this would be really easily corrected by a small implant. Hey! Good news! Of course, they’re no longer a matching pair, but now I’m not scared of surgery anymore, having them balanced out is something I think I’ll go for.
IF. Big if. IF I don’t need a mastectomy. But how cool is that? That my biggest fear now has to be that of having my boob removed? Because it looks as if the lymph nodes ARE clear, so if they are, it probably won’t have spread elsewhere into a secondary cancer.
On the very plus side, I is much more sorted out and happier. I can see now that she was just really scared and stressed. Bless her. I’m speaking to her most days (at her insistence). She is SO much better I feel quite guilty about how awful she must have been feeling. Her Facebook messages have been very random but still all related to me and the cancer, so it’s obviously been foremost in her mind. I’ve had a bit of a baking binge on lately so sent her some cheese straws. Her next request is Yorkshire puddings. In the post; they’d be like rocks!
R had a bit of a blip, not sure what was going on, and he’s so reticent about what he’s thinking and feeling that I’m still not really sure. Anyway, he was so weird that I went home for 4 days. No real big deal, although it was quite hard being on my own so soon after an op. I felt quite surreal really. I was initially very nervous of my boob but there was no real reason. I had no problems with it. No real soreness. I was wearing my big supportive bra, bought specially for after the op. Fine in the house but outside it made me feel alternately like someone’s granny or like an invalid.
So. No real pain. Fear of the unknown for a wound really, never having had one before. The wound was dressed by the nurse on Saturday. I had no intention of looking at it because I’m ridiculously squeamish at the best of times and this was hardly that. Still. I did. And it was OK. A bit of a shock, but no where near as bad as it could have been. And given that this was only 2 days post op, not bad at all really. The shape of my boob has actually been improved by the op. It has been pulled up a bit so is far less saggy than the right side. My nipple is facing forwards for the first time in 20 years. Yes, the bruising is bad, and the blue die is unsightly, but they’re temporary. There IS a flat area where the tumour was removed. But looking at it, from the front AND sideways, it is obvious to even the uninformed that this would be really easily corrected by a small implant. Hey! Good news! Of course, they’re no longer a matching pair, but now I’m not scared of surgery anymore, having them balanced out is something I think I’ll go for.
IF. Big if. IF I don’t need a mastectomy. But how cool is that? That my biggest fear now has to be that of having my boob removed? Because it looks as if the lymph nodes ARE clear, so if they are, it probably won’t have spread elsewhere into a secondary cancer.
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