Tuesday, 2 February 2016

Back to life, back to reality

In 10 hours I will be back at work. 19 months off, 602 days....

Surprisingly I'm not feeling nervous (yet), I keep getting waves of sadness, the last time I was at work was the day I was diagnosed, some what blissfully unaware, I was waiting for my biopsy results but didnt know for sure..we were thinking about a holiday later that year and planning maybe to have a baby....

So much has changed since that day. Urgh. I'm not the same person I was.

I'm hoping I will fall straight back into it, I'm hoping it will tire me out so I will start sleeping, I'm hoping it gives me something else to talk about, I hope it makes me forget all about C if only for a few hours, I'm hoping it makes me feel a bit normal again .. Dare I say it... Like me again.

I'm not looking forward to the alarm clock going off....


Tuesday, 5 January 2016

F- It List


Not at all cancer related, but I got to thinking, why do people make a list once they’re lives are being cut short? 

Imagine having THAT appointment with your oncologist and knowing that you have so much that you want to do?

Get married✅
Bora Bora
Tattoo✅
Ear piercing✅ 
Fly 1st class
Family holiday to Disney Florida ✅
New York✅
Northern Lights
Jamaica ✅
Ballet✅
Loboutins 
Washington✅
Miami
Paris✅
Louisiana
Chicago 
Memphis 
Texas
Philadelphia ✅
Vegas
LA
San Fran
Caribbean cruise
Columbia 
ITALY
Budapest
Super Bowl 
Glastonbury 
Poland
Lambing ✅
South of France
Mulberry bag
Panoma
Costa Rica 
Equator 
Brazil
Russia
Prague
Aesthetic course
Cotswolds
Hot tub 
Edinburgh 
Celine Dion 
Good American jeans
Skiing holiday
Zip wire 
Cliff dive
Opera
Hold a sloth
Pomeranian (white) aka Jackie Brown 
Spynx cat

Monday, 28 December 2015

Realisation

Christmas 2014 for me, was about survival and recovering from chemo so I would be well enough for surgery. In my mind I had completed phase 1, I felt *lucky* to have made it that far, I had a little breather before getting my head down and ploughing through the next phase.

This year is different. For so many reasons. My body appears to be somewhat healed but my mind, well that's where it gets tricky. To say I jumped on the Christmas bandwagon is an understatement, I couldn't wait to get the tree up and fill the house with anything red/gold/tartan/things that twinkle, I have a "Santa stop here" sign, and penguins that appear to be skiing down my stairs. I also shopped, and shopped, and shopped. I had the best time, some days I would just wait for the post woman to come as I'd forgotten what I'd ordered and that in itself was quite fun. I even brought mince pies to leave out on Xmas eve.

I loved seeing everyone's pictures of fake Santa footprints, reindeer food, naughty elves, all the presents neatly placed under the tree. I loved seeing the kids faces when they opened their presents, the sheer excitement, not knowing what to open next, wanting to stop and play but also wanting to open some more. Then it hit me.

I will never need to put out a carrot for Rudolph, there will be no Santa boot stencil in our house, why exactly did I buy those mince pies? There's no little people waking up every hour to check if it's time to get up. It must be magical.

I try not to think about the future too much, well unless it creeps into my head. But it's hard not to at this time of year, new year. New start? Better year? What if it's more shit? What if 2016 is the same, or worse than 2014/2015, what if it's no different? What is there to look forward to? Hospital appointments? Scans? Results? Treatment? Anxiety? More bad news? More uncertainty?

I look at other people, I find myself staring, sometimes in a daze and not really listening to what they're saying. I envy them, all of them. Their lives, their jobs, their well fitting clothes, their homes, their rings, their families, their bumps, their hair, their bodies, their ability to be carefree, their sparkly eyes, eyes that aren't filled with sadness.

Thursday, 3 December 2015

My most favourite month


December. I love it. I look forward to it all year, there's something so magical about it. 

People seem generally more happy, more willing to be silly, more social, more forgiving. 

I'm like a child who's eaten multi packs of skittles, this has now started to rub off on my nieces and nephew, I'd like to say I'm sorry, but I'm not (sorry Hollie!).

To say I've gone over board this year is quite an understatement,the house is full of decorations, I've even made a few myself....


 There are presents everywhere, in every room practically, the wrapping paper is co-ordinated, I even have stamps to print on the gift tags.

Charles and Eddie are out again in all their glory taking pride at the top of mine and Hollies trees #wouldILieToYou


The boys both have their advent calendars - which they are well happy about...


I've also managed to pack in as much as I can, in fact I think I have plans every day from now until Xmas day, why not? Actually I could have done with renting somewhere in London for the month! But then I guess I wouldn't be able to stay up with Rhian until stupid o'clock drinking champers and bailys watching people falling over and generally doing stupid stuff on you tube.... (Please search for melon face it's a fave).

I'm so excited to start the festivities - in fact it all kicks off today for a long weekend of doing tacky touristy things, standard Xmas visit to Liberties, dinner and xfactor, lunch with the bitches and pub quizzes. Then I have a
Cancer Xmas party, comedy, family time, escaping rooms, road trips, facials, snowballs, fizz, snow play, birthdays, nativity plays, meeting reindeers and Santa and loads of other utterly fabulous things. 

This is a far far cry from last year and I intend on enjoying every bloody second of it. 

X


Tuesday, 10 November 2015

It's likely to be bone mets

I woke up this morning with that horrible funny feeling in my stomach, you know the one - scan/results/game changer day, and if you don't, well, consider yourself very fortunate.

I decided that I wasn't going to be scared today, I would try a new approach, statistically I should be ok. Pelvis biopsy is ok, spine looked the same as the pelvis, spine had remained the same for 10 months, and that was after finishing chemo and still no change.

This new found comfidence lasted right up until I was inside the MRI. Then all sorts went through my head. Like, the fact that they were all huddled behind a screen looking at my images, knowing if it was or wasn't, most likely doing the sympathetic head tilt, saying things like Awh she's so young, she's been through enough etc etc. This went on for around 45 minutes.

Then the bed moved out of the tube and there was a voice in my ear that said "Aimee, you're going to have to pop back in for some more images." Obviously this is because they've found something really really bad.

Luckily I had this on tap for the next 3 hours whilst we waited for the results

We had to sit in a huge out patient waiting room, with over 30 clinics, and wait for my number to be called out over the speaker. 1671, that was my number, they're not in any order, completely random,just to add to the anxiety.

Finally, at 16:20 my number was called and we got to go through the doors into a smaller waiting room. Panic was now setting in, everyone was being called before me. This was obviously so that they could free everyone up to be in the room with me. Finally my name was called by a doctor I'd not met before, my heart literally stopped when I saw a girl sitting in the room, probably about my age, I assumed that she was some sort of Macmillan nurse. She wasn't, she was a medical student. Phew.

The doctor then checked if I'd had an MRI today, I said yes, and he got it up on the screen and began reading. I couldn't bring myself to look, Arron put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. The doctor asked if anything had changed since my biopsy - pain/discomfort etc, I said no, he asked if I was sure, I said yes, then I felt like I was going to pass out. Tears started falling down my cheeks, the doctor gave me a tissue, the medical student did the head tilt, and the doctor apologised for taking so long.

For a slight moment after that I felt relief, he grabbed my hands and asked if I wanted the good news. The lesion on my pelvis hadn't changed. I was instantly confused, I explained that this had already come back clear? He said we'll sort of, the bit they tested was clear. Arron made him confirm that this was the whole point of a CT guided biopsy - to make sure that they got the right place. Arse covering springs to mind.

He then began to talk about my spine. He explained that this also hadn't changed since 2014, which is good but he felt that it was likely to be bone metastasis. No, this wasn't supposed to be happening. The medical student couldn't even look at me now. 

Unfortunately they can't biopsy my spine, which we already knew, wasn't this the whole point of coming here today for a more detailed MRI, to give a definitive result? an MRI which isn't generally available at "normal" hospitals? Apparently it is but the scan today didn't show any more detail than the ones I've had in the past.

This all has to go to MDT to be discussed, as this is his opinion of what he is seeing on the scan today. It is also of his opinion that the outcome will be to carry on with the monthly denousab injections (bone juice) and have an MRI every 6 months. If the leisons to my pelvis change then I will have to go back and see them and discuss the possibility of another biopsy. So in other words, he couldn't tell me that it wasn't bone mets, he doesn't think that they will ever be able to say that, I have to live 6 months at a time and hope that nothing changes. If anything does change -get bigger, multiplies or fractures then it will be confirmed as bone mets. That was todays opinion. I wonder what would have been said if someone else had interpretated today's scan?

The MDT is in 13 days, I asked if I would get a phone call, he said he wasn't sure, I might, but they will be in touch somehow. I just wanted to get out of that room as quickly as I could.

And then I stood in the corridor with Arron telling me to look at him and breath, whilst various health care professionals walked past without saying a word. And now I have to wait, probably so that I can be told the same thing as I was today. I'm giving up on hope, I was given hope in July and now I'm back at square one.

Apparently the treatment I'm currently having is the same as what it would be if it was 100% bone mets so it doesn't change anything. That's the part that these doctors don't understand, I'm 33, it changes absolutely everything.

Monday, 9 November 2015

Here we go again

Is it or isn't it? Well I guess I should find out once and for all tomorrow…


2014
bone scan clear
CT clear but picked up something on my spine so I had an MRI
MRI clear (classed as wear/tear)

2015 finished active treatment
Bone scan clear 
CT showed same on my spine and also pelvis 
MRI confirmed these findings

Diagnosed with bone mets and commenced on monthly denosumab bone injections, awaiting bone biopsy of pelvis.

Pelvis biopsy came back clear (benign bony island) imaging of my spine looks the same as my pelvis.

Decision was left to me if I wanted a more detailed/specialist MRI of my spine to hopefully give me a definitive result as they are unable to obtain a biopsy of the spine (phew). The consultant was very blasé and reiterated that it does indeed look the same as my pelvis.

I decided to have the MRI.

It's tomorrow and I get the results the SAME DAY.

Crap.

Part of me wishes that I'd accepted what they told me and lived happily ever after but then the other part of me wonders what would've happened if I'd have accepted The bone metastases diagnosis and not had that biopsy my life now would be very different. 

Sigh.

I have re-read my own blog about scanxiety and yes tomorrow won't change anything, it will inform us, BUT I  still have that ball of anxiety in the back of my throat. 

What I wouldn't give to be working a 12 hour shift tomorrow.

This deserves a double finger....



Friday, 6 November 2015

I wish

I wish the sadness would stop

I wish there were no more tears

I wish the anxiety would go

I wish the pain would stop

I wish my girls could all be healthy 

I wish there were no more scans

I wish there were tiny feet

I wish the dark cloud looming above would disappear 

I wish others would appreciate all that they have and are able to do

I wish my heart felt lighter

I wish the fear would go

I wish i could once again be care free

I wish I could remember what that felt like

I wish you'd left me alone