Well, a lot has happened since I’ve been here last, I had
to read over the last blog I posted to see what news was in it and what I'd updated you with. So, since then, I’ve had (and not necessarily
in this order):
5 weeks of recovery from surgery
4 radioactive injections
3 hospital visits
2 lymph nodes removed
I lumpectomy
And a Partridge in a Pear tree!
4 Radioactive injections I hear you say? Yes, one of the
two delightful procedures that preempted surgery. The other one was to have a
piece of wire inserted into the tumor, under local anesthetic, through my flesh
while I watched! Honestly, I’m not
making this up.
Having the wire inserted is to aid the surgeon when she
is removing the tumor. It guides her straight to the tumor site which makes the
whole process of cutting it out easier. Obviously, I was well prepared and knew this was all
going to happen, but it still hurt! I had a discussion (bet) with the surgeon
as to how many cuts she would have to make to remove the offending article plus
a couple of lymph nodes. Naturally my preference was just one, but she said she
couldn’t tell me beforehand and I’d just have to wait and see how good she was,
and it also depended on where exactly the wire was inserted and where it led her.
As for the radioactive injections. Well! The hospital I
attend doesn’t have a ‘Nuclear Medicine’ department, so I had to go to the
adjoining main hospital for this. Myself and two other ladies who were having
the same procedure, were rounded up, send down to the basement in a service
lift, put into a golf buggy, driven through a maze of tunnels, put into another
service lift and sent up to the NM department (funny how the Nuclear Medicine department and Nurse Mary have the same initials!). On the journey over, despite
being like three convicted criminals on our way to prison, we made small talk
about the weather etc. I did say at one point to the driver of the golf buggy
that if he stopped in one of the tunnels and let me off, I’d be lost forever as
I’d never find my way out (if I'd realized what was ahead of me I'd have jumped!!). On the way back however, it was a completely
different story. We were like Brothers in Arms returning from a Tour of Duty
suffering from PTSD! Not a word was said. Also, by now it was lunchtime and
having been fasting since 6.30am, we were all very hungry, which didn’t help.
Anyway, the NM department was a barrel of laughs, as you
would expect. When I was called in for my turn in the torture chamber I was met
by a young male nurse holding a lead box with that ‘radioactive materials’ sign
on it. Jeez!
It had in it the four injections (yes 4) containing radioactive dye that were to be
administered. The purpose of all this is to highlight the Sentinel lymph node,
which has to be removed at the same time as the tumor. So, the nurse filled me
in on what was going to happen, the Consultant would be along shortly to
administer the injections, (I’ll spare you the details of where exactly they
were administered) and I wasn’t to worry as he was an expert now at this and
had the whole procedure down to 20 seconds. 20 seconds! I wasn’t sure if I
should be delighted by his proficiency or cry at his proficiency. The nurse
also pointed out to me that this hospital was a teaching hospital and would I
mind if a student nurse observed (she had appeared as if by magic and was standing there smiling
shyly). No, I didn’t mind, sure we all have to learn, an I'm learning a lot here! After a short time filled with awkward silences and
me making bad jokes about being radioactive, the Consultant of Pain arrived,
with another Doctor in tow. He also explained that this was a teaching hospital
and this Doctor had never seen this procedure done and she would like to watch
and would I mind? What could I say?
I deserved an Oscar for my stoic performance that day,
and I was very upset that I didn’t get a standing ovation from my very quiet,
wide eyed audience, when it was all over.
After the injections, I had to wait 40 minutes for the
radioactive dye to reach the Sentinel (first) lymph node, this highlighted it for
the surgeon so she knows which one to remove. Then some photographs were
taken of the 'green glowing node' by a very high tech machine. Apparently my photos turned out great,
although I never got to see them.
When it was all over we were delivered back to our
respective wards in the smaller hospital and we never saw each other again. I
did however see the catering staff, as they brought lunch to the other patient
in my room.
2pm. I’m now in bed waiting to be brought to theater.
3pm. I’m still waiting. The catering staff had already
made their second round offering tea/coffee etc.
4pm. I was still waiting.
5pm. I was still waiting, but a nurse had come in and told me that she had heard from the surgeon and it
wouldn’t be much longer. By this stage I was starving and dehydrated. I was
like that lion in the children's movie Madagascar who was so hungry that he began having
hallucinations and saw all his friends as food. To me now the nurses were
looking increasingly like ice-cream cones in their white uniforms, the catering staff
were looking like mars bars in their black and red uniforms and the porters
were looking like pints of Guinness in their white tops and black trousers. I
was very cranky...
6pm. I was brought to theater, where I was rewarded for
my long wait with an intravenous bag of warm fluids. My cup runneth over!
7pm. I was in my drug induced sleep, dreaming of food,
while the surgeon worked her magic.
9.30pm. I was back in the ward, where to my delight I was
promised tea and toast in a couple of hours. That never happened as I promptly
fell asleep and slept right through till the next morning.
After a light post-op breakfast and some after care
instructions I was on my way home, and while I’m not much of a meat eater, I’d
have eaten the partridge and the pear tree if they’d been there waiting for me.
Here I am now 5 weeks later, recovering as well as can be
expected. I’ve had some problems with the wound, but it is healing well now. The three hospital visits I mentioned included a post op visit to the surgeon who was delighted
to inform me that I was now cancer free and that there was no cancer either in
the lymph nodes that were removed and tested. A silver lining indeed!
The second hospital visit was to the Radiotherapy
Oncologist who informed me that I would be having 19 sessions of radiotherapy
with him and his team. This is also good news as I was expecting it to be a lot
more sessions than that. I’ll let you know how that goes when it starts.
And last but not least I went to see my favorite grumpy
man in a suit, the Oncologist. I’ve come to realize lately, that for every
silver lining there is also a cloud, and the professor sent me home with a huge
black one hanging over my head. While he too was very pleased with all the
results, he explained that they (whoever they are!) have had very good results
with the form of cancer I had by administering further doses of chemotherapy as
it reduces the risk of recurrence. As
you can imagine, I was pretty upset by this.
Apparently this drug Capecitabine or Xeloda as it's commonly known, my new choice of poison, is
administered orally and I can take it myself at home, and great news, it won’t
make my hair fall out. This is actually good news as after five months my hair eyelashes and eyebrows have just begun to make an appearance again and it would be just cruel for them to all fall out again. This new dose can also run concurrently with the radiotherapy
so I don’t have to wait till one is over to start the other. I don’t know yet
when this extra treatment will start but it will take 18 weeks to complete.
So there you go, just when I thought it was safe to go
back in the water, when I could see light at the end of the tunnel, when I
could see the finish line, when I had only one more hurdle to jump, (insert your own analogy here) I’m right
back to the beginning again. It's very frustrating, and I know it for my own good (insert your own encouraging words here) but it still stinks!! Don’t worry, I won’t bring you back to the start with
me. I’ll just drop in here from time to time to let you know how I’m getting
on. I’m sure there will be a tale or two to tell and you’ll be wanting to know
how Nurse Mary is I’m sure!
But its not all bad news. Despite the fact that I’m still
open to infection and still injecting myself every day with blood thinners and
still have to have my wound (scar from the operation) dressed every couple of days, I managed to get away
to London for a few days to visit my Family. Not only did I catch up with my
brothers, sisters-in-law, cousins, nieces and nephews, drank some champagne ate
nice food and had some laughs, I also met the newest addition to the Brennan
family, Teddy!
And what a silver lining he is. He’s as soft as you would imagine a cloud would be and you
couldn’t help but be cheered up by that little face (don’t tell Rusty I said
that).
