My Mother's Day Gift! ~ Fiona

March 15^th 2015 was going to be a special day, my daughter Rachel and her partner Thomas were bringing my 3 day old Grandaughter Charlie home from hospital.  Up showered and get ready for the day, however that particular morning in the shower was when I found 'lump'.  

Parked in the back of my mind to enjoy the day receiving my gifts and seeing my youngest daughter as a mummy with Charlie. I also had a lovely face time with Laura my oldest daughter with Oliver who was 18 months at the time, she lives in Colchester! A perfect day! Except 'lump' was in the back of my mind whilst going to bed.

Next morning rang GP, there were no appointments, “Is it an emergency?”, I was asked, no its fine not an emergency.  I drove to work sat in the car park and rang GP back, explained that I had found 'lump'. 4.45pm that day had my first of many appointments.

26^th March was diagnosed with Breast Cancer – WOW.

My first discussion with my Breast Cancer Specialist nurse was that I’m booked to go to Tuscany in June, it’s not up for discussion you will have to work around this, because I am going.

Telling my daughters was the most awful experience. They had babies, I had everything to live for, amazing husband, gorgeous girls and two beautiful grandchildren.

21^st April Operation Day, Mastectomy & Reconstruction. Left hospital 25^th April.  BOOM!  What next?  The all important results, what did they remove from me?

Thursday 7^th May was an important day for Scotland it was our referendum election day, huge day for a lot of people.  For me there was only one thing on my mind to get to that appointment and hear whatever they have to say to me……… No Further Treatment…… Really I couldn’t hear her for the tears rolling down my face. 'Lump' was removed I was clear to go on and live my life and enjoy that holiday in Tuscany.

Home now to give everyone the good news.  Emotionally drained what a rollercoaster.  So, the flowers stop arriving, visitors stop coming, phone stops ringing.  That’s it I’m sorted.  Not a chance!  Feel so alone, invisible. How can this be?

Whilst having naps I kept getting this one picture in my head, over and over again.  I was on a train and my team of specialists were on with me, the train stopped and off I go onto the platform, turn round and my team were still on the train, it was moving away. I had no idea where I was no signs, just standing on the platform on my own. Where do I go? What do I do?

A few days later whilst having coffee with a friend, I told her I was feeling a bit isolated etc., she gave me the number for a local organisation Cancer Support Scotland.  I made an appointment and went to see them on 21^st May.

I met my lovely Massage Therapist who gave me six amazing massages. I also met with a Talking Therapist both of these people have become invaluable to me. On returning from holiday I continued with the treatments all free, then when my massage therapy was coming to an end I really wasn’t ready to walk away from this beautiful renovated chapel which is the most calm, tranquil beautiful space – my little haven. I decided to speak to someone about becoming a volunteer. I volunteer at the reception on a Saturday morning and have been doing so since.

Cancer Support Scotland was the missing sign on that train station. I am not alone I have found a beautiful space where I can contemplate, feel safe, and give something back.  They have taken me by the hand and allowed me to have the time to emotionally heal.

Last week I was asked to do a talk at a women’s guild about my personal story with one of the fundraising team. I was a little nervous, you could hear a pin drop, I got to the end of my story and asked if there were any questions I could answer. This lovely little lady said how brave and courageous to speak about my 'lump', she also said that it must have been difficult the first time I spoke. When I told them that this was my first time, they all clapped. It was so lovely.

So as we approach Mother’s Day 2016, Charlie will be 1 year old, Oliver is 2 & half.  I will get up, have a shower and enjoy my day as last year. Hopefully without 'lump'.

Huge gratitude and love to my daughters Laura and Rachel and to my rock Stuart.

My Mother’s Day gift to you all is to cherish each and every day.

Fiona

x

A - Z of my year with breast cancer – just for fun…… ~ Tracey

A – is for Apple everything – iPad, iPhone, iMac! Don’t know what I would have done without them all. Also for crazy curly Afro hair – seriously it’s just growing out and I’m going to look like a member of the Jackson Five if it doesn’t calm down soon! And Adventures yet to happen!

B – is for Boob – just hope to have a matching pair at some point! Blue Butterflies, Blankets, Bed and Beach! love the beach – I need to get there soon! Blogging and Blogs! Both writing mine and reading a lot of other amazing people’s blogs really help.

C – is for Cuddles with Clover, Coconut, Chocolate, Candles, Cake, Cinderella (my favourite fairytale) and Courage – you need a lot of this with cancer!

D – is for Doggies and Daffodils – both make me so happy!

E – is for Eating, Exercise and E-bay – all of these make me feel good!

F– is for Friends and Family as I couldn’t be doing this without all of your support and help. Also cosy Fires, Fairytales – love a happy ending, Facebook, Flowers, Florida (as you know we hope to get back there – always good to have a dream!), Faith that I’ll get better, but also Fear of the unknown.

G – is for God (I really hope there is one and he can get me through this) and Garden because it makes me happy!

H – is for HER2+ and Herceptin – bad as it is, I’m also lucky I can have this treatment. Crazy Hormones too! But best of all Happiness and Holidays!

I – is for injections – lots – I am like a human pin cushion and my veins ache! Also for Implant of new boob, and Italy as we hope to visit!

J – is for Juicing! Beetroot and spinach literally saved my bloods last year!

K – is for Keep smiling even when it’s really bad and Keep going. Kindness that has been shown to me and my family, and for Kale – which is helping to keep my bloods good – it’s amazing!!

L – is for my Love of Life – cancer does that to you! and of course Lemons! I am totally addicted to lemons – and they’re meant to be good for you too!

M – is for Mermaids, Miracles, Music, Massage, Muga Scans, Making Memories and of course my lovely March Marvel 2015 gang! love you girls!

N – is for NutriBullet and New – as in new me, new boob, new way of thinking, just new!

O – is for One step and day at a time! It’s the only way to do it now! Also for Odd – I feel and look odd – I’m an ‘even’ person so this is difficult for me!

P – is for Phil (my hubby – he’s been amazing), Positive thinking, Pizza and of course Photos and Pictures!

Q – is for Quilts – to keep me busy! always good to have a hobby and to give the children a keepsake.

R – is for Reading, Relaxing and Resting.

S – is for Swimming which helps me to cope with the pain, Sunshine which never fails to cheer me up and warm my bones and Strength to deal with this.  Also Sewing, Socks to keep my feet warm, and Spinach which I eat every day like Popeye!

T – is for Tattoo – which I hope to get to decorate my new boob, and for Turkey – what an amazing family holiday we had there!

U – is for Universe and the Unknown – cancer makes you think a lot!

V – is for Vows, which we hope to renew on a nice beach – not sure when or where yet though!

W – is for Warm (it helps with the pain), Work which I love and gives me a bit of normality and routine and of course Weddings! I love a wedding!

X – is for X-rays and scans – all sorts – have to have lots of these!

Y – is for Yoga which helps the mind, body and spirit – everyone should try!

Z – is for Zoladex – bit of love and hate here but it has allowed me the option of having other medication to keep the cancer away so it has to be on the list.

Z is also for Zombies! ha ha.  May sound crazy but we’ve just started watching the Walking Dead.  I hate horror movies but this is absolutely brilliant! It reminds me that things could always be worse (bit like watching Sky news too!) – you see the world could be over run with Zombies chasing us which is much worse than cancer!! I also love the special effects – really should have worked in the movies!

You can read more about Tracey's experiences at her blog:

https://battleofbritten.wordpress.com/

Annie's Song ~ Annie

The Oxford English Dictionary defines resilience as the capacity to recover quickly from difficulties; toughness.  I don't think having cancer requires toughness, because when that breast cancer diagnosis hit me,  I didn’t have a choice.  I went into shock, put my feelings into cold storage, and got on with what needed to be done.  Resilience makes a difference after treatment ends.   That's when the physical challenge diminishes (though it's never over - ongoing medication and the aftermath of aggressive treatment continues) and the mental and emotional challenge begins.  This is my story so far.

Every morning I wake up to two thoughts:  1) my mother is dead and 2) I've had breast cancer.  Some days they greet me in reverse order. I have not yet found a technique or tool to stop these thoughts appearing as I come round from another poor night's sleep, disturbed by hot flush tossing and turning, discomfort from scars and rib damage, and unpleasant anxious dreams.  But I’ve learned to live with these thoughts, and I let a few tears fall in the shower most mornings, as I wash away the night’s terrors.

Having cancer brought together every negative emotion I've ever experienced, and placed them in a tangled mess spread between my head and my heart.  All my fears came together, all my sadness in one big whoosh, all my anger and grief leering at me, every loss I’ve ever experienced flooded in and stayed, beginning on the day I got my recall letter following a routine mammogram.   

It's probably nothing, the letter reassures, but we would like to see you in a week's time to run some more tests.  I stood still with the letter in my hand, turned to stone, for who knows how long.  It was November 5th 2014, bonfire night.  That evening I cried as I told my husband. 

After that things moved very quickly, and that's when the numbness and disbelief set in. This was happening to someone else, not me. At first the cancer was just a tiny blip of nothing that could be removed by local anaesthetic; next came a biopsy which confirmed lobular breast cancer and then an MRI showed it was much larger than had been picked up on the mammogram.  I was given a date for surgery, December 2nd, and my Wide Local Incision somehow became a Therapeutic Mammoplasty.  The surgeon removed a quarter of my right breast.  I felt violated, un-whole, let down by my body, and I was convinced that I was going to die.

Telling my mum and dad was the worst. In fact I chickened out of doing it, I asked my sister to tell them and I visited the next day to reassure them that I'd be fine, they'd caught it early, there was nothing to worry about.  I painted them a cheery picture I didn't see myself.  I wanted to save them from whatever a parent feels when their child is diagnosed with cancer.

My mum has always been my best friend and never more so than during my treatment.  She was there the day after surgery, so that my husband and son could go to work.  She accompanied me to check-ups and radiotherapy appointments, brought me tea and cake, took me out for lunch, and held me while I cried, like I was her little girl again.

As my date for radiotherapy drew near (I did not need chemotherapy) I developed an infection and I went to my hospital for checks twice a week for 7 weeks before I was allowed to lie on the zapping table.   At last the wounds mended, with the help of the strongest most debilitating antibiotics I'd ever taken, and it was Happy Birthday to you, please come for your first radiotherapy session on your 55th birthday...

By the middle of March 2015 active treatment was complete and I was left with sore burnt skin, scars that seared with pain and tender to touch ribs.  Also a ten year sentence of oestrogen inhibiting medication, meaning I'm suffering menopause symptoms over and over again, along with other side effects such as joint pain and weight gain. 

I went for a meal with my hubby and sons on the day I finished radiotherapy, to celebrate.   I was supposed to be happy, but I was in shock and completely exhausted.  I couldn't eat or engage in conversation.  Every ounce of energy I had was spent, used up on the treatment I'd just endured, and I had nothing left.

This, then, was the beginning of my new life, my cancer journey was over.  Now I could get back to normal.  Ha!  How I wish someone had prepared me for the fallout that came post treatment, the total desolation of constantly being told how glad I should be that it was over, I'd survived. How lucky I was that it was caught early, how fortunate that I only had to have radiotherapy and not chemotherapy.  I didn't feel grateful, I didn't feel full of the joys of spring, ready to jig through my bucket list and to live each moment like it was my last.  And as I didn't feel as everyone was telling me I was supposed to feel, I thought that I was doing something wrong, that there was something wrong with how I was feeling. 

I worried constantly about the cancer returning, I bothered my GP and specialists about every little niggle, I slept in the afternoons and was generally lethargic and unenthusiastic.  I had by now found an online support group, and by interacting with the wonderful ladies there I found out that how I was feeling was normal and ok, and that was the beginning of my recovery.   I attended a HOPE course,  I joined an exercise class, I was offered counselling and Reiki and when the freebies finished I sought out private treatments.  I realised that I had to look forward, not back, and build a new life.  I wasn't going to be able to return to the old one. I wasn't the same person, physically or mentally.   I had already left my stressful job, so I didn't have that to go back to. I was doing a bit of training, meeting friends for lunch, spending a lot of time alone, reflecting, ruminating.  Slowly I was emerging from my winter cocoon, but I was a long way from becoming a butterfly. 

Then two big things happened:  my youngest son left to go travelling and the empty nest blues hit me, and then my mother was taken ill, and so my focus shifted away from my own troubles and I was looking after her.  I think perhaps this saved me from spiralling into depression. Mum died a few weeks later, suddenly and unexpectedly, and I was overwhelmed with grief.  But I had a role to play, stuff to do, supporting dad, sorting out the funeral, looking after my sisters. Just as I had done when my cancer had been diagnosed, I got on with it, and cried a great deal when alone. Mostly in the shower.  My mother's death helped me to deal with all the emotion that I'd held in during my cancer treatment.  I'd had cancer, and my mother had died, and I was still alive.  How amazing, how incredible, how was this possible? 

When I have bad days I sometimes wish that the cancer would return so that I can slip away from this world, because I don't ever want to lose anyone again.  But a precious friend has gone to join mum, and I am, by some miracle, still here.  My feelings have not overwhelmed me, they have not finished me off, I am still able to get out of my bed every morning and show up to wherever I need to be.

Right now I am one year cancer free. There isn't much on my bucket list after all : I'm no sky diver or bungee jumper, my two beautiful boys are my greatest achievement and they are grown up now,  I've had a rewarding career, and I'm a nervous traveller so I'm not too worried about seeing the world.    But I do have a lot more books to read and I have a lot more love to give to the people in my life, and  I hope I can hang around awhile to do that.