Bravery and Chemo

Sunday Nov 26

While there is power in knowledge, I shouldn’t have Googled.

In my last blog I said ‘one step at a time’, and last night I got ahead of myself and quite frankly, it scared the bejesus out of me. I haven’t talked about my fear much, I’ve painted the bravery picture but fear is all a part of this process.

“I have breast cancer”, was really hard to say aloud.

“I have breast and probably liver cancer”, was impossible.

“I have stage 4, metastatic breast cancer”, is unthinkable, but true. That’s its name, but I call her Pauline.

The bad news is it can’t be cured.

The good news is it can be treated, very well.

It’s like saying you have type 1 diabetes. You can’t be cured but you can live a long happy, productive life. There’ll be challenges along the way, but as one friend told me his friend has been ‘monitored’ for the last 20 years for liver cancer.

Lesson- Do not, I repeat, do not get ahead of yourself Kristina! 


Tuesday Nov 28
Oncologist meeting. 

Dr Jackie Adams is in charge of oncology at Lyell McEwin Hospital. She was great. I've been extremely lucky with all my (public) doctors and specialists. 

We chatted for a while about what I knew, what is needed and the plan of attack. She said I could have chemo next Wednesday, the day after I have my port fitted but I wanted it sooner. So it goes like this... blood tests and baseline heart tests today, CHEMO STARTS TOMORROW!, port put in on Tuesday next week. The first four chemos will be three weeks apart, the next eight, weekly. I'll be bald within three weeks. (Doesn't concern me if I'm killing Pauline.) 

We hung around to get the tests done and it was a long day. I was less impressed with the team who did the baseline heart test. The guy who put in the cannula couldn't find a vein and when I got in there they didn't talk to me. Just a few words like, 'nearly done' or this may take about ____ minutes. So I had to lay there, 'giving myself a good talking to' for what seemed like eternity.  

It's all happening fast and I have to stay 'in the moment' to cope. 
Managing, mostly.  

So here's to tomorrow, Chemo 1 day! Deep breath. I've got this. 

#4 To port or not to port

Friday Nov 24

I was looking forward to seeing Dr Bev again (breast surgeon). She's just really good and I feel like we connect. She told me it had been a busy morning. Nine new cancer clients! Holy cow!

Eager to get 'Pauline' (the name of my cancer) killed off, I wanted to know the plan of attack and how soon it could all happen. So here it is... 1) See oncologist Dr Jackie Adams on Tuesday at Lyell McEwin.  2) Start chemo asap.  3) Dec 5 Surgery to insert a port. (Na, I didn't understand what this was either.) There are three ways to get chemo in... through a vein eg hand, through a picc line which sits on the outside of your upper arm and has to be re-inserted every 3 months, or through a port. The port is put in under anesthetic and a 20c piece sized thing sits just under the skin under your right collar bone. It can be injected directly into and has a line taking it near the heart to get the chemo pumping. Apparently it is the best option, so we are doing that.

There is one more test before I start chemo. It's a simple ultrasound heart baseline test. There is no reason why I couldn't have my first round of chemo next week before the port is put in...

We went on to meet Deb the McGrath Foundation Breast Care Nurse. So much information and so much kindness. Funny isn't it, it's easy to handle the facts but when people are loving, understanding and kind, I get wobbly. She gave me the best hug I'd had in ages.

We left, armed and confident. We are on our way Pauline...
 

The MRI

Monday Nov 20.

MRI Day

Pretty sure Dr Bev’s intern, Paul was meant to organize my MRI on Friday but I didn’t hear from him.

At about 10am, I received a call from Deb, a Breast Care Nurse. Boy! Did that hit hard. Why would I need one of them? Oh, that’s right, I have breast cancer. It still doesn’t feel right to say that aloud. Weird.

She promised to ‘get onto the MRI’. Within 5 minutes of her call, Paul called and had organized an appointment for the MRI at Ashford, Benson’s at Ashford called to confirm the appointment and Deb called to make sure I’d got a call. Efficient!

Jack was home so he came with me for the MRI. Not too much to say there except I had to fast for 4 hours before and they needed to get a Dr to get a vein for the dye. It was like stepping into a Sci-Fi movie set walking into the MRI room. Strapped in, tubed up, headphones on for the jackhammer noise, I’m guessing it was smooth sailing.

No call with results tonight from Dr Bev. Does that mean good or bad news? Do I or don’t I have liver cancer as well? I’ve not been good tonight. Why hasn’t she called? Am I expecting too much? She set the precedent? If I have it, I have to beat that too… tricky one. If I don’t, hallelujah! I guess I’ll call my local Dr in the morning…

Tuesday Nov 21

My sooky la la day.

Still no word on the MRI.

I messaged my local Dr. She had no news.

I spent the morning calling or emailing my insurance, car lease company, car service centre and hairdresser. At times I got wobbly and was relieved when a friend came to visit. We laughed, cried and talked. It was lovely.

Still no word on the MRI.

Paperwork.

Another visitor in the afternoon. Just as lovely.  

Posted paperwork and took some more to the Doctor to fill out. She popped out and called me in: her last patient for the day.

I cried. She reassured me that MRI results take longer… 48 hours is normal and doesn’t necessarily mean bad news. If it comes to it, cancer of the liver is treatable too. 

I felt better.

Still no word on the MRI, but I can wait until tomorrow.  

Wednesday Nov 22
A friend invited me to an art group. It was nice to concentrate on a drawing. 
Message from the local Dr to see her at 2.30pm. 
The good news... suspect cysts on the surface on my liver are cysts. 
The not so good news... the MRI found a "few small spots" IN my liver. They can't be 100% sure they are cancer but due to the circumstances, they are assuming they are. 
The good news... it is absolutely nowhere else. Not in any lymph nodes, other organs, bones etc.

Big specialist appointment on Friday to get the low down on a treatment plan. Let's get started. 

I got this...! 

A Bump or a Mountain? (Not all posts will be this long - promise.)

I met my specialist, Dr Bev Fosh, today. What a champ. She was lovely, busy, kind and factual. She saw me when she doesn't normally see people and I trust her already. "It's going to be a rough six months", she shared.

It's an aggressive tumour and with malignant cells in the lymph nodes, so we needed to find out if it was anywhere else. We mapped out options but first needed more tests. She came and booked at Benson's with me... a full body bone scan and a CT scan of organs. Was it EVERYWHERE?

We drove to Salisbury (pronounced with a high pitched 'ee' on the end) and I received an injection of the radioactive isotope (tracer) that later would tell the bone story. We drove to the beach and sat in a cafe. Waves of fear and emotion ebbed and flowed as I contemplated 'being riddled' or not.

Back to Modbury and this time a dye was injected so they could see my organs well.
"We will tell you when the dye goes through the cannula", said the nurse. "It will feel warm and you will feel like you're wetting yourself, but don't worry, you won't be."
I was amused and couldn't wait...lol.
"Dye coming through now", she said after a minute or two.
"Okay, thanks", I said sheepishly. And there it was, exactly as she said. I was peeing, surely! Thankfully, it was over quickly and upon checking, I hadn't.

After a 5min wait to make sure I hadn't had an allergic reaction to the dye... (God forbid- died of a dye while dying of cancer!) I was allowed to go, fast, back to Salisbury.

They were waiting for me. (I'll say that again.) Yes, THEY were waiting for ME.
The bone scan machine is simply the most amazing technology! I was fascinated as it rotated around me and moved me in and out of it's vision.

I walked out 15 minutes later, past a radiographer looking intently at the images. Was it EVERYWHERE?

I made an appointment for Saturday to get the results via my Dr at Gumeracha. The wait was going to consume me.

A few tears of fear and anxiety on the way home and then a call - 'no caller id'.
'Hello', I said. The tiredness evident.
'Kristina?' said the caller. "It's Bev Fosh, I'm calling from home. Please excuse the noise from the kids and the dogs."
(Polite titter. (Excuse the pun.))
"I have your results from today", she said. "It's good news. There's nothing in your bones. There doesn't appear to be anything in your organs."
She went on to explain that there are cysts on my liver, which is normal apparently but to make sure, she's organising an MRI.

I'M NOT RIDDLED!
A sea of relief.
It's a bloody awful bump, but not a mountain.

Next stop, next Friday. Chemo or surgery, that is the question.

Week One

On Thursday Nov 9, I discovered a lump in my left breast.
It was big. It seemed like I should have seen it before but I hadn't so I reasoned it couldn't possibly be cancer but a cyst or blockage or something else that must have popped up overnight.
I saw a random local doctor that day and was referred for an ultrasound and biopsy.

On Friday I attended the ultrasound at Benson's in the Modbury Hospital. I knew when the radiographer said, 'I'll just show these pictures to the doctor', that I was in trouble. They told me they wanted to do a mammogram to get a clearer picture and so I had a series of mammogram pics taken, and then some more, and then another. I cried.

I was taken back into the ultrasound room and a team gathered and took the required sample from the lump and from a lymph node. I asked a question about what comes next and was told I would be referred to a breast specialist.

The whole team at Benson's was amazing. So very kind, gentle and reassuring.

Yesterday, Nov 13th, I visited my local GP and she confirmed there were malignant cells in both the tumour and lymph node. I sorted work stuff and have two weeks off.

Today, Nov 14th, I had a core biopsy. Such clever technology! The local anesthetic was ordinary but after the 45seconds it takes to kick in (learned that from the Dr today!) I barely felt a thing. They insert a hollow (fat) needle and with a click of a gadget which sounds like a piercing gun, it takes a tube of tissue. They took three samples. Some ice packs, a panadene forte induced sleep and a wake up call from a friend with a bunch of beautiful flowers and I don't feel too bad at all.

Day off tomorrow. Thursday I get the core biopsy results and meet the specialist for action planning.

I got this!!!