Bumps Galore down the Supermarket Aisles

There are many aspects of life that change when cancer is diagnosed, and I believe I am familiar with most of them now.

People's reactions can cause surprise, alarm and others provide immense support and reassurance. Some turn away, lacking the ability to find the right words to string together a worthy conversation they feel confident enough to hold, whilst all I needed was a hug. GP's look at you with sadness (and in my case with a sense of guilt) as if it's all too late. Specialist Medical Teams thrive on optimism and hang on every glimmer of hope. Employers handle with caution and ensure they are following process and protocol to the letter.

The Government deems me now worthy of the badge “disabled”, although I do not believe what I have at this moment in time presents any disability and presents only a feeling of fraudulency. But on the other hand, such a “tag” provides protection and comfort that I will be taken care of both in terms of benefits and discrimination, as appropriate.

Cancer has snatched away many options, but I still have many to choose from. My life remains almost normal, with the occasional appearance from Lenny Lymphoma both physically and mentally but otherwise he allows me to continue as before.

I still have choices, I am still able to make my own decisions, I still have my own free will.

The hardest decision to date has been that of additional children. It needn't be a secret anymore that back in September 2009, after the 'all clear' from my GP on the lump in my groin during my first visit, my husband and I had decided it was the right time to try for a second child. A son or daughter for us, a brother or sister and a playmate for Callum.

Our views on additional children have become slightly uneven since that time. No Medical Team will advise that to try for further children after such a diagnosis is the right or wrong thing to do, but they air on the side of caution, present examples of similar situations and outcomes, but continue to provision all the support required if that path should be chosen.

I always had a personal goal of 40 for a second child. If that age was reached and/or past without a second child then for me, it was as nature intended, but as of December my deadline was prematurely ended; for my husband it is a temporary plot on the pregnancy landscape that should be revisited in 12 months time (6 months before my 40th birthday). My Medical Team support our decision either way, but in my heart of hearts my decision has already been made.

My Father fell to cancer when I was a little over 2 years old and I have experienced a single parent family first hand. My Mum did the most amazing job and became both parents to me, but if I had a choice, I would choose to have both parents every time.

I hope to have many many years of trouble-free illness, but there is an absolute risk I cannot ignore and that's to make a conscious decision to present that possibility to a 4 year old boy and any future children and that is not a choice I am willing to make.

Most days I am able to put this decision to one side. I know of friends and colleagues that are “with child” and I am amongst the happiest for them, but there are other days when I wish not to be reminded of the difficult decisions we have had to make. I counted 12 pregnant ladies in the local Supermarket this evening, it was truly bumps galore on special offer!

They all looked beautiful and radiant and I wish them all the very best. I only hope that one day my feelings of anguish over my own decision will subside and allow me to be at peace.

Break Away

Had a nice week in Devon, not far from Dartmouth, and now back to the reality of e-mail, conference calls and the likes.

The weather treated us kindly so we where able to get out and explore most days, but unfortunately you have to return the humdrum at some point.

The weekend has been spent with run-of-the-mill housework catching up and yesterday a lovely day in the garden. The chickens now have their own luxury lawned extension so are very content little hens and we have commenced the reclaim of our own piece of garden, and I'm hoping the weather will hold its own today to enable us to use the new BBQ this evening.

My Race for Life training commences in real earnest this week. It's a little late due to health issues but the training plan is in place and I'm ready for the starting blocks.

I'm still incredibly tired and lack real energy but am optimistic that the additional exercise may produce some reserves.

The Results Are In

Check up again today and all was fine. Blood results where good and no signs of further growth or spread in the last 6 weeks. I was so relieved as I had a bad feeling about today, but I was proved wrong for which I thank my blessings and all those that have been sending positive thoughts and prayers.

I have been reprieved for 2 months, so watch out 9 June, here I come to kick your butt once more.

A Mixed Week

It's been a mixed week.

I caught some kind of bug the day after my complimentary therapy, which at the time I thought may have been some form of reaction, but I soon realised it was a plain and simple virus. Fortunately it only lasted a couple of days and before I knew it I was back on my feet with renewed vigour.

Since then we have had the long Easter weekend which has been spent extending the chicken's palatial empire which was completed today, courtesy of my DIY clever husband, inclusive of their very own lawn, in an attempt to retake ownership of a lawn and garden fit for human habitation. It remains 'work in progress' but we have made a great start and the garden has become livable and tidy once more and the lawn will be re-seeded this week. However as I sit here and type I truly am “stiff as a board”.

Our son had a lovely Saturday afternoon with his best pal and we had lunch with the In-Laws today, followed by a short walk in the sun. I do like how a little sunshine warmth accompanied by the lighter evenings can really uplift your spirits.

The week was then topped off by the receipt of my new engagement and eternity rings. My diamonds have been reset and redesigned into 2 new beautiful rings and my hand feels complete once again. A new wedding band has now been commissioned to complete the set. I'm a lucky girl!

My 4-year old Son is now officially richer than me, as family elected to give cash rather than chocolate as Easter gifts. His numerous nursery girl-friends provided the chocolate fix he requires, despite his obvious disappointment that people forget he doesn't do “brown” chocolate – only white is acceptable, of which he didn't get many of his preferred option, but enough to keep him in white chocolate for a few days. Whilst on the other hand, my husband is very content with his role to remove all trace of the "brown" chocolate as quickly as possible. I must admit to having my own eye on the mini-eggs.

This week I face another 6-weekly check-up and was back at Pathology last Thursday for my routine bloods.

Life truly runs a 6-week cycle; I cannot look beyond that, and by week 5, my apprehension makes its devilish reappearance.

For a few weeks my fatigue seemed to ease, but the last 2 weeks it has returned and not a day passes without the 3pm “slump” and the 3am "wake". I feel old beyond my years as I feel drained of the energy expected of a 38 year old.

At my last appointment my potassium levels where low so I'm hopeful that has been remedied by diet, and was quite amused by how my husband and In-Laws tried to, and successfully, persuaded me to allow 2 brussel sprouts to pass my lips today on the basis that they are potassium and iron rich.

I am however something of a little nervous that all may not be as well with my platelet count. It is not just the tiredness again, but my ability to bruise with such ease having returned with avengeance; as can be demonstrated by the 8cm bruise down my left shin courtesy of a mishap with the ensuite toilet, and the mysterious markings that seem to have applied themselves elsewhere. My rash continues to present itself with the upmost pride. In addition my “bleeder” reputation during blood tests failed to disappoint again on Thursday and by the time I was back home my “x marks the blood test spot” dressing was hanging on for dear life as my arm was heavily blood stained. I have never seen anything quite like it and it made me feel a little nauseous.

So here's to Wednesday. May you treat me gently and offer positive news that will allow me a further 6 weeks of perspective normality.