128. NEBB

North East Breast Buddies (or as the husband of one member has aka'd us, North East Ball Breakers) lunch meet.  I pick K up and off we go.  I love K.  She’s the one that got me through the really hard times after chemo.  She would text me, encourage me to eat, tell me how well I was doing, tell me how long until the side effects started to wear off.  She’s younger than me by 7 years, but acts like a mum. 

I’m newish to this area and I’m not confident driving in town but K directs me.  She doesn’t drive though, so doesn’t totally get lanes and road directions.  We’re all over the road (although we ARE on the right one).  This, obviously, is a bit of a hindrance to the other road users and one takes it into her head to protest (mildly) with a bit of hand signalling.  K, little, quiet, unconfident K, winds her window down and lets forth a torrent of expletives that I’m shocked by.  ‘Well, I’m not having anyone treat you like that.’  Ah.  How sweet! 

When we arrive, I find out that the café we’re in is the lovely French one that I like.  Great coffee.   

There are only 4 of us, which is actually quite nice.  It’s possible to have a 4 way conversation.  W is there, the group member that has secondaries.  She appears to be handling it very well.  I know, though, how deceiving appearances can be.   

K doesn’t like too much cancer talk but there is quite a lot.  I think it’s fair enough.  W has enough to deal with and in her support group, probably does want to talk about it.  Her care team appear very hopeful that the chemo she’s on will be effective.  We discuss people we know who’ve had it that have had the cancer vanish.  It seems too much to hope for.  We also talk about ensuring there is lots of living going on instead of just worry and anxiety. 

127. Speaking and Listening

Today it’s the plastic consultant.  I know she’s a woman but that’s it. 

Long, long wait.  They’re running almost an hour late. 

Finally I’m called in.  She’s youngish but confident.  She asks me what I want.  Nice boobs!  She has a look at my boobs then we both sit down and have a chat.  The plastics nurse is there too although she doesn’t say much.  The consultant starts to reiterate what the nurse said 2 days previously about losing my nipple on the healthy side. 

Well.  I’ve been mulling this over a lot.  It seems NUTS that I should lose my healthy nipple.  Why?  I mean, I understand the theory but surely the surgeries can be done in steps?  First, the reduction, keeping the nipple attached.  Second the mastectomy, which in theory should be OK because both boobs would then be the same size and the nipples would be in the same place.  The reduction would have been already done so they’d ‘just’ do the reduction and the reconstruction.  Both nipples intact.

The consultant looks at me and then at the nurse.  She says, ‘Have you been doing some reading?’  No, I haven’t.  I tell her it just seems to be daft to lose the nipple on the healthy boob and that I’d been thinking about why and how to avoid it. 

She moves on to explain why this MAY not work.  When a reduction is done, they cut around the nipple so the blood supply is coming from the tissue below.  When they do a mastectomy, the blood supply from the tissue below is cut off so the supply has to come from the skin around it.  If during the reduction the bloody supply from the skin doesn’t reconnect, then the nipple would die.  BUT.  I could then have a nipple recreated.  And there is a chance it could work. 

She slaps the table and says, ‘Do you know, you may just have rewritten the book on this?’  It hasn’t been done before.  Whoooo. 

Upshot.  She’s gonna do a reduction in June.  She’s also going to do liposuction from my stomach, lipo fill my cancer scar in an attempt to unteather it (it is puckered and pulled in, seemingly attached to the tissue underneath).  Then 3 months or so after she’ll do a mastectomy and reconstruction.  She hasn’t decided what type of recon to do yet. 

I’m happy with this.  A consultant that listens to the patient.  Novel concept.

126. Chop Shop

I have my first appointment with the plastics breast nurse.  K goes with me to the appointment because R has lost interest (more on this later).  The nurse is nice.  She asks me to explain to her what I want done and why.  I list the reasons why I want this surgery and what surgery I’m expecting to have done. 

Given my choices, she begins to break down the options of what I can have done (during which, at times, I gag).

 I’ll be having a skin conserving double mastectomy. 

 Options are:

* Implants.  No, no, no.

* Reconstruction from my back muscle.  Mmmm, not sure.  Those scars are pretty bad across the back.

* Reconstruction from my stomach using the muscle.  There’s a muscle under there?

* Reconstruction from my stomach using the fat.  Back to having BIG breasts then, given the amount of fat on my stomach.

* Another option that I don’t understand.

I’m also told that I’m almost certainly not going to be able to keep the nipple on my healthy breast.  WTF.  From the healthy one? 

This is because they will reduce the size of my healthy boob to match the other one.  When doing a breast reduction, they cut around the nipple, detaching it from the skin of the breast, keeping it attached to the tissue underneath.  Given that I’m having a mastectomy as well, there will be NO tissue underneath the skin, so the nipple will be completely detached and will therefore lose its blood supply. 

I’m not happy about this.

125. Pus

The spots I squeezed on my boob are infected. 

124. When in doubt, leave well alone

Radiotherapy is done.  I’m looking forward to being able to wash my rads armpit and boob and keep checking the burn to see if it’s improving.  Not much.  My boob looks a little smaller since rads and also seems to have developed a nasty case of blackheads.  I decide that the blackheads are due to the amount of E45 cream I’ve been using so stop using it. 

After a couple of days of not using the cream, the burn looks decidedly better.  The blackheads don’t.  After a shower, I’m eyeing them, giving them a little poke.  They don’t hurt.  My skin feels OK. 

I squeeze a few of the blackheads.  (We’re days after radiotherapy has finished and I’m using my nails on my boob.  Am I mad?)  The blackheads squeeze OK although a layer of skin does come off, a little like skin that peels after sunburn.  There’s no pain though, so I assume it’s OK. 

123. Shrink Me

I’ve gone on the sick.  I tried to work all the way through rads but the tiredness was a bit too much to handle while at work.  Also, my boob was chafing and it was awkward.

The weather is nice though, so it isn’t a hardship, being at home.  I loaf around, sit outside in the nice weather.  My mum comes to stay, so I’ve got company.  We don’t bicker as much as we used to so it is quite nice.  She massages my shoulder and my cancer side arm, because it aches sometimes. 

I’ve started attending Slimming World because of the huge weight gain from chemo and the steroids so I’m cooking low cal meals for me and mum.  Which is a bit of a reverse really, because since I left home, when I've seen her, it has pretty much been her doing it for me.  Since I’m not at work though, it’s nice. 

Over the weekend, R and I take mum for a couple of meals at the restaurant she’s decided she likes here.  The first time I have swordfish and salad and the second a steak.  I’ve tried dieting since finishing chemo and have lost NO weight, so I’m determined to give this diet a really good go. 

Just as well I did.  When I go to get weighted, I’ve lost 6 ½ lbs!  Woo hoo!!!!

122. Blow Out

So I’m having my booster radiotherapy.  Only one of the hospitals many rads rooms does the booster sessions, so at least now I’m always in the same room.  No problem, although the girls aren’t quite as nice as in room 7. 

I’ve been to work and am running a teeny bit late, should still be on time for my appointment if I put my foot down tho.  Which I do.  I take a roundabout fast.  I’m almost back to town and I’m just wondering if there’ll be a space on the road so I don’t have to pay to park when the exhaust starts making a funny noise.  I slow down and notice that the car is losing power too.  No hard shoulder, so I have to stop in the slow lane of the dual carriageway. 

Once I’m out of the car, it becomes obvious that the car has blown a tyre; rear driver’s side.  I get my bag and phone and call Green Flag.  I can hardly hear the agent because of the roar of traffic, much of which is swerving to avoid my lil Fiesta.  They can’t find my details.  FFS.  I’m patient for a while and then when the agent starts suggesting I phone another number, I get cross.  ‘I’m on the side of a dual carriageway; my car is in the road.  I’ve had this account for 15 years.  I can’t sort this out, you need to.’  He does.

Once breakdown are on their way, I phone R.  He faffs about.  All I really want is the address of the garage his friend has.  He tells me I won’t need it.  Can I have it just in case please?  He tells me he doesn’t know it.  Um, can you GET IT? 

Next I ring the hospital.  The receptionist tells me not to worry.  They’re open until 7.  Um, even room 8?  She thinks so.  Can she check?  Yes, she can.  She does, phones back and has to leave a voice mail because R has phoned back.  He’s got the address for which I’m very grateful. 

The breakdown man comes, it IS only a tyre so I’m changed and on my way within 15 mins of him getting there.  I drive far more sedately but as quickly as I dare, park in the expensive car part and SCREECH into radiotherapy reception just as the receptionist is leaving.  She checks me in and then pulls down the shutters.  Phew