I finished chemo nearly three weeks ago and
there has been a slow and steady improvement in my health. It’s like watching
your hair grow, you don’t notice but all of a sudden you’ve got regrowth that
needs attention or you’re looking untidy and need a trim. My health improvement
is like 1% each day but if I look back two weeks, I can see I’ve come some way. But I’m impatient.
This week I’ve started walking further and
sometimes twice a day. The oncologist explained that my fluid retention isn’t the
regular type and it won’t respond to the fluid tablets the local doctor gave
me. Chemotherapy causes damage or thinning of the veins and fluid can leak into
muscle tissue. The best way to reduce the fluid is to move the muscles once the
veins have had a chance to heal. It’s just this week I’ve noticed improvement
and I’m very relieved to not be quite so ‘puffy’.
On Monday I saw the intern of my
oncologist. Up until now, my emotional meltdowns have been in the privacy of my
own home. I call them sooky la-la moments and reckon they’re healthy. In order
to manage emotionally, I chunk my life into sections and deal with each bit as
required. I have learned to stay ‘in the moment’ as much as possible and
generally cope quite well. I spoke with my Doctor recently about tapping into
some counseling after surgery as I want to talk it out and learn some
meditation techniques. So there I was, with the intern, a lovely fellow. He
told me they had decided to go ahead with the liver biopsy after all. I told
him I had been told they might not be able to biopsy the spot as it’s too small
but he assured me the ‘team’ had discussed it and they thought it was
achievable.
WHEN?
“There is no hurry, we can wait until after
surgery. When would you like to have the biopsy?” he asked.
I don’t even want to have a liver biopsy.
The thought of someone sticking a bloody long needle into my guts makes me
sick.
“Ummm”, I mumbled. My brain went into
overdrive. When will I feel comfortable to lie on a table and be needled after
having a boob removed? “I don’t know”. Next year? Never?
“Perhaps if I suggest? Do you mind if I
suggest?” he asked, clearly with an idea.
“No, go ahead”, I trembled, hoping it was
months away.
“Let’s do it this week?” he said with a
smile.
“NO! No, no, no, no! I can’t!” I exclaimed
as I began to cry, and then sob, really sob. I hiccupped my way through, “I… am
just… coping with the …thought of having… the surgery. It’s too… much. I can’t!”
He apologized profusely, realizing he had
pushed too hard. I think his curiosity had got the better. They so badly want
to know what this liver spot is. I just want it on hold until I deal with the
breast cancer.
Once the dam had burst, there was no
stopping the flow. It was all too much. I thought I was there to start hormone
therapy so I mentioned that and the intern scurried away to get the
prescription signed by my regular oncologist. He must have told her about my
emotional outpouring so she came in with puppy dog eyes and talked me through
the whole liver thing again. Hormone
therapy can cause body and joint aches and tiredness (like I need more of that)
so they decided to start that in four weeks too, once I’m over the worst of the
surgery.
Still crying, I called my local Doctor on the
way home and explained what had happened. She told me she would have lost it
too. I felt normal. We decided to act on the mental health plan and she booked
me in for the next morning. When I saw her, the counselor who works at the
surgery had a cancellation, so I got to see her too. I left feeling supported
and understood.
So, next Tuesday May 29, Pauline will be
gone; I will have my left breast and about 14 lymph nodes removed. I will be in
hospital overnight and probably allowed to go home the next day where I will
have a nurse visit for a few days. I wanted both breasts removed, but I’m a
higher infection risk because of chemotherapy so one will have to do for now.
Deep breath.
This too shall pass.
X
Kristina
