Must take my cue from Captain Mainwaring and not panic every time something happens. Oncologist has just sent me an email saying pain on operated side is really common in the first year after surgery and that he really doesn't think a bone scan is necessary. He wants to see me in clinic next week to feel the other side for this thickening thing, and my guess is he'll say it's fine and that I don't need ultrasound or whatever. Hopefully it'll be a case of Much Ado About Nothing. Sorry to alarm anyone. All in a day's work for Muggins.
Kxxx
Friday, 27 March 2009
Steal Magnolias
I want to steal magnolia flowers from our neighbours' gardens. They're so pretty. And I've also morbidly decided that at my own funeral, I'd like a magnolia tree planted in my honour, rather than a horrible coffin-in-the-ground jobby. This business with Jade Goody insists on creeping into my brain and running riot in my Fear of Terminal Diagnosis section. Though now she's died, I've got to see that it's all OK in the end really. You just die, and then are at peace, leaving those around you to be the ones to have to really deal with it. Poor them.
How black!
Start again: We're back from a great week in Dublin on holiday, staying with our lovely friends Jo, Rich and the girls. Freddie woke up every morning squealing 'Let's go see the girls!' and demanding we took him through to the playroom, nappy all sodden and pyjamas tossed aside. No time for formalities. He also picked up very quickly on the whole telling-off-siblings thing. Brow furrowed and voice gruff, he chimed in with 'Sit down, Charlotte!' or 'Get your shoes on, Kirsty!' (that's Little Kirsty, Jo and Rich's four-year-old girl, not me!) all too readily. I dread to think what a younger sibling of Freddie would be in for. Not to mention the nose-out-of-joint spectacular that would be bound to happen. Luckily, no little sisters or brothers (or even, bothers - I just mis-typed it!) are in store for our Petit Prince. Oh no. He shall be Number One, Numero Uno, King of all he surveys (and all those hiding from him behind the sofa). With bells on.
Where's my tea?
Just been to the GP to check out a little thing that felt like a lump on my 'good' breast a week ago but which I haven't been able to find again since. The GP couldn't find it either, but did find an area of thickening that's quite common in women generally, but that she thought we ought to check out just to confirm that nothing's wrong. So I've got to contact my oncologist to get him to book me into the breast unit for a mammogram or ultrasound session. And more worryingly, I've developed pain and tenderness on my operated-on side, on my ribs. So I've also got to go for a bone scan to check that the cancer hasn't travelled into my ribs. Marvelous. Some people get up on a Friday morning thinking of the projects they need to complete at work so they can have a nice weekend, or sighing at the thought of the struggle to get Naughty Toddler/s to nursery/playgroup/round to someone's house to screams of 'NO! Play with fire engine at home!' etc. And I get up, feel sick at the thought of yet another trip to the doctor's, get Naughty Toddler to nursery but have to have him peeled off me by the nursery staff because he doesn't want me to go, and then sit in that waiting room AGAIN, feeling like the energy that all this cancer business takes up is simply ridiculous and more than a little miserable at times. Though I'm writing all this actually to pep myself up and it IS working, believe it or not. I've just got to concentrate on fixing up the appointments and then leave the worrying to the doctors. Plus the GP said she wasn't too worried and that she didn't think that the pain or the lump-that-isn't-a-lump will turn out to be cancer. So I've just got to get on with today and act like normal.
On the telephone support group the counsellor lady posed the question: 'What is "normal" after a cancer diagnosis?"' You might well ask. I keep trying to do my version of 'normal', which consists of just doing what I did before, but with renewed vigour and adding in my new pursuits like running and Pilates etc. And most of the time that's great and really uplifting. At other times, I get a new symptom or someone famous dies of cancer, and a sadness sweeps over me for a little while and I ask 'Why me?'. Why can't I just be a normal person, with everyday concerns, irritations etc?
I think I already know the answer to that. In the era BC (Before Cancer), I was struggling through life, lurching from one melodrama to another, getting emotional and terribly angry at those around me at the drop of a hat. I took no exercise, did very little about the anxiety attacks, and didn't have enough get-up-and-go to really get to grips with all that motherhood and wifedom involves. But now, in the AD era (After Diagnosis), I've addressed my issues (and am still doing so), taken up a healthy lifestyle and all that that involves, do loads of cooking and housework on top of doing all the other mummy things, and have met some really special, lovely people over the last year. None of that would have happened BC, nor the Carpe Diem spirit. And I was a fool if I thought BC that it would happen at some point in the future, just naturally in the course of time. It wouldn't have. It would have been on my to-do list till my deathbed, for sure.
Now is the time for really living and savouring every moment, positive or negative. It's all the stuff of life and to be cherished. How cheesy weessy weesy, but almost definitely true. So don't miss even the littlest things, like the joy of hanging out the washing on a really sunny day, a particular bird cawing (I rather like crows even though most people hate them) reminding you of a childhood garden, and those magnolias. Oh, how I wish I could steal those magnolias!
xxxxxxxxx
How black!
Start again: We're back from a great week in Dublin on holiday, staying with our lovely friends Jo, Rich and the girls. Freddie woke up every morning squealing 'Let's go see the girls!' and demanding we took him through to the playroom, nappy all sodden and pyjamas tossed aside. No time for formalities. He also picked up very quickly on the whole telling-off-siblings thing. Brow furrowed and voice gruff, he chimed in with 'Sit down, Charlotte!' or 'Get your shoes on, Kirsty!' (that's Little Kirsty, Jo and Rich's four-year-old girl, not me!) all too readily. I dread to think what a younger sibling of Freddie would be in for. Not to mention the nose-out-of-joint spectacular that would be bound to happen. Luckily, no little sisters or brothers (or even, bothers - I just mis-typed it!) are in store for our Petit Prince. Oh no. He shall be Number One, Numero Uno, King of all he surveys (and all those hiding from him behind the sofa). With bells on.
Where's my tea?
Just been to the GP to check out a little thing that felt like a lump on my 'good' breast a week ago but which I haven't been able to find again since. The GP couldn't find it either, but did find an area of thickening that's quite common in women generally, but that she thought we ought to check out just to confirm that nothing's wrong. So I've got to contact my oncologist to get him to book me into the breast unit for a mammogram or ultrasound session. And more worryingly, I've developed pain and tenderness on my operated-on side, on my ribs. So I've also got to go for a bone scan to check that the cancer hasn't travelled into my ribs. Marvelous. Some people get up on a Friday morning thinking of the projects they need to complete at work so they can have a nice weekend, or sighing at the thought of the struggle to get Naughty Toddler/s to nursery/playgroup/round to someone's house to screams of 'NO! Play with fire engine at home!' etc. And I get up, feel sick at the thought of yet another trip to the doctor's, get Naughty Toddler to nursery but have to have him peeled off me by the nursery staff because he doesn't want me to go, and then sit in that waiting room AGAIN, feeling like the energy that all this cancer business takes up is simply ridiculous and more than a little miserable at times. Though I'm writing all this actually to pep myself up and it IS working, believe it or not. I've just got to concentrate on fixing up the appointments and then leave the worrying to the doctors. Plus the GP said she wasn't too worried and that she didn't think that the pain or the lump-that-isn't-a-lump will turn out to be cancer. So I've just got to get on with today and act like normal.
On the telephone support group the counsellor lady posed the question: 'What is "normal" after a cancer diagnosis?"' You might well ask. I keep trying to do my version of 'normal', which consists of just doing what I did before, but with renewed vigour and adding in my new pursuits like running and Pilates etc. And most of the time that's great and really uplifting. At other times, I get a new symptom or someone famous dies of cancer, and a sadness sweeps over me for a little while and I ask 'Why me?'. Why can't I just be a normal person, with everyday concerns, irritations etc?
I think I already know the answer to that. In the era BC (Before Cancer), I was struggling through life, lurching from one melodrama to another, getting emotional and terribly angry at those around me at the drop of a hat. I took no exercise, did very little about the anxiety attacks, and didn't have enough get-up-and-go to really get to grips with all that motherhood and wifedom involves. But now, in the AD era (After Diagnosis), I've addressed my issues (and am still doing so), taken up a healthy lifestyle and all that that involves, do loads of cooking and housework on top of doing all the other mummy things, and have met some really special, lovely people over the last year. None of that would have happened BC, nor the Carpe Diem spirit. And I was a fool if I thought BC that it would happen at some point in the future, just naturally in the course of time. It wouldn't have. It would have been on my to-do list till my deathbed, for sure.
Now is the time for really living and savouring every moment, positive or negative. It's all the stuff of life and to be cherished. How cheesy weessy weesy, but almost definitely true. So don't miss even the littlest things, like the joy of hanging out the washing on a really sunny day, a particular bird cawing (I rather like crows even though most people hate them) reminding you of a childhood garden, and those magnolias. Oh, how I wish I could steal those magnolias!
xxxxxxxxx
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