Cancer Sucks

Christmas came and went and it was all quite quiet and cosy. It is a bit sad quite how quiet and cosy it was but one can only do what one can do. You’ve gathered by now I’m not running a triathlon in a pink t-shirt grinning like a poster girl I expect.

The only minor excitement came after everyone had gone back to work because I’d rung genetics to find out if my results were back. They then discovered my bloods had not reached the lab, which have a lead-time of 3 months. That would have been just in time for surgery. The lovely professor found another lab who can do the BRCA1 and BRCA2 test in 3 weeks. This is very tight for time and I didn’t pick up the messages from the lovely professor for a couple of days because I’d just had chemo and was abed with the poorliness. One of the messages said the lovely professor was having trouble contacting me and maybe I was away, chance would be a fine thing I thought. 

I was too poorly to get to the hospital for another blood test, so someone from genetics came out to me, they were at a local clinic. This would have been great except that I could tell in 2 seconds she would not be able to get blood out of my chemo hardened veins. My confidence wasn’t helped by finding out that she was an hour late because she had got lost and had just kept driving around instead of calling me as I had suggested when the appointment was arranged. It was painful and I was a pincushion who was being asked by this person what had happened to my previous test (really as if I would know) and who told me how difficult I was as she failed to take blood. I reminded her it was my veins which were difficult as she asked me what to do during he second unsuccessful and painful attempt. 

I was ill, ill enough to not have got out of pyjamas, and I’ve had to keep myself awake during all that getting lost time. It was time to take charge, so I just told her to stop and I would get myself to the hospital the next day where one of the phlebotomists would be able to take blood. More flapping took place because she wanted me in first thing but the timing of this was governed by OH being able to take me and prop me up, he not surprisingly had some work commitments. Genetics person rang her manager, I spoke to manager, 10.30am was fine. At this point I am reminded that everyone involved in this dialogue wanted to know why I was on my own at home and where my husband was, I did point out that one of us needed to work because I couldn't. How do people think you keep your house when you have cancer I wonder? 

Even the phlebotomist struggled, but bloods were taken, leaving me in pain. They were handed over to another genetics person and I went to bed once home. Results should come back the Friday before my Wednesday surgery and will affect what the surgery is. I’ve written to my surgeon to say I trust the date for surgery will not alter, and I don't think it will, because the chances of the test results being positive are low. It will though be a right pain if we don’t have the results and they come back positive because that would mean more surgery. I think they should just do a double mastectomy regardless, but they don't like removing healthy tissue, and without the genetic link it doesn't lower the risks. I don't understand that but all the research says so. 

The only other thing going on is that the effects of chemo are cumulative (probably said that before) so it is taking me longer to get over the last one. That makes it harder to be glad that the last one is over and done with, as are the injections I self-administer to raise my white blood count and which I hate doing. Today is 10 days post chemo and I still had to lie down after doing one thing due to nausea and dizziness. I also have weird tingling in my fingers and feet, which I know some people have a lot longer and worse than I do, but still hoping it goes away as the side effects wear off. If that and the skin peeling goes away, the only thing I have really lost is hair. That said; never again with the chemo thing. I shall take my chances and the risks of whatever else is doable. Having spent at least half of the past 4 months unable to function and in pain, quality of life wouldn’t be worth a repeat visit.

I’m now getting scared about surgery, which whatever it is, will be big surgery. Some people wear their scars with pride, you’ll probably have gathered by now I don’t. I’m scared of going under the knife, of the pain, and the outcomes. All of which is why I don’t want that surgery date moved. It needs to be done and over so I can get on with the next scary thing. Least this feel all doom and gloom, I do get on with things and stay positive, but cancer sucks. There isn’t a way around that. I'm lucky that I don't have anyone around me who expects me to be somebody I'm not.