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.

I Can't Stand Feet!

Well today I had the day off and had my first appointment for complimentary therapy at the Hospice.

I was very dubious about going to the Hospice as I had expected to see lots of very poorly people, and the use of the word Hospice sounds so final, but the Turner Centre was a separate building to the rest of the premises, so I was almost segmented and guarded from seeing the reality of what the Hospice stands for.

I did meet a very nice lady who was clearly very unwell and it does remind you of the seriousness of the situation; she had a great sense of humour particularly when a member of staff forgot to put sugar in her tea, as her volunteer driver sat quietly by her side.

I was very impressed with St Michaels, the staff were lovely and the surroundings were very nice and calming.

Off I went to the treatment room for reflexology. I have a natural affliction for feet but I gave it a go, with every muscle tensed I lay down ready to laugh out loud as I am so ticklish but actually it wasn't like that at all. Infact it was very nice indeed.

I now have an aromatherapy sniff stick (!) to help me relax whenever I need it and after the treatment was completed I was escorted back to reception for a nice cup of tea and as long as I needed to drift back to reality before making my next appointment. And that I did as I watched the rain bounce on the ground outside.

St Michaels Hospice do an absolutely fantastic job, of that I have no doubt. Just one visit made me realise just how important the pallative care offerings they provide really are and with only 30% of their funds provided by the Primary Care Trust and the remaining £1.8 million required to continue to run the Hospice per year being raised by charitable donations their achievements are substantial and it's a Charity I would be honoured to support.

Similarities of "Biscuit" the Goldfish

When faced with a life threatening condition a number of things change. For me, life has been reprioritised, and as an existing “heart on the sleeve” wearer, I have become even more emotional as has been demonstrated this week as I watched the Boyzone programme about Stephen Gately and Eddie Izzard's incredible marathon of marathons as I sat there quietly with only an occasional sniffle to break the silence. I watched Children's Hospital last night and was in complete awe of those children's fight and courage. If there was ever a demonstration of hope and determination it comes from those beautiful children.

My view of death has also changed. It's something I have always been incredibly scared of, and that hasn't changed. I have had my fair share of dreams of being locked in a coffin alive and hovering above myself lying on a bed as my family are all sat around me saying their final goodbyes. I know I'm not alone on that. As we speak, death is around me, not for myself or a friend or family member but for, (now don't laugh, go with me on this one and all should become clearer); our pet goldfish.

We lost 1 of 4 goldfish last week. It happened very quickly and there wasn't much we could do. As I explained to my 4-year old Son that Jammie had gone to heaven (via the toilet), Callum remains convinced that we will be reunited with Jammie in “Devon” on our holiday in a few weeks time. It's hard to explain the concept of heaven to a 4-year old, especially when he refers to it as a holiday destination!

On Monday, our second goldfish, Biscuit, and one of our oldest at 3.5 years old started to act unwell.

Biscuit, looked and seemed well until then. You would never have known Biscuit was suffering a life threatening condition nor do I know for how long. No obvious markings, and until yesterday, no strange movements. To the onlooker all seemed to be well. All of a sudden Biscuit lost his / her balance, his / her control had gone and Biscuit looked on with a glazed expression, breathless.

I found Biscuit's inability to control his / her balance and his / her abnormal rolling unnaturally distressing yesterday morning and found myself to be first in the queue at opening time at Pets at Home to hear a diagnosis of swim bladder in complete panic. I took the treatment home, but sadly it was too late for Biscuit.

As I lifted Biscuit out of the tank he / she took a breath, was this a breath and a small sign of life or a bodily / chemical reaction when lifted from the water? I do know the answer, but Biscuit remained in his / her tank until I found the courage to accept it was time to take a trip to “Devon”.

Biscuits condition may be similar to mine. You just would never have guessed, until one day it showed itself.

May Biscuit and Jammie RIP in “Devon”.

Time for Change

There comes a time when life has to return to some kind of normality or you are just going to go out of your mind and Lenny Lymphoma will drive you insane - and for me that transition to normality feels like it maybe starting.

This week feels like a turning point. I feel more positive and can see beyond next week. The good days are outweighing the bad.

Registering to participate in Cancer Research UK's Race for Life in June 2010 was the first stepping stone; to give some good back to those vital Organisations who have been helping me; but it was also a diversion, a “feel good” factor.

Counselling from the lovely Ros is starting to help me to understand, to rationalise and to accept the feelings I have.

Continuing to review and absorb information is a powerful tool. If you can understand your condition you find more strength to fight. Knowledge really is power. Some find my constant review of the Web unsettling, but I only take note of information from reputable Organisations; I really do not need horror stories or glimmers of false hope.

I am about to register for a Reiki Healing Course; not only to learn a new skill, but a great opportunity to seek self-relaxation and help those around me; heal the healer as they say.

This evening I have some pampering of my own, with an appointment at my favourite salon for a new hairstyle and colour ready for Spring – thank you R & C; it's a lovely Mothers Day present. As I walked my dogs this lunchtime I also saw the first Daffodils emerging, so Spring really is in the h..air!

I have also become a MacMillan Cancer Voice, using my experience of Cancer to date along with many others to help shape the future of Cancer care and to assist in making life better for everyone affected by Cancer.


I do believe I have started the next stage of my journey; taking back control of this situation.