Cancerversary and the long road to recovery

Thursday 27 February was exactly one year since I received my diagnosis, otherwise known as my 'Cancerversary'. I wasn't planning on marking it in any way, as it's only a few days after my birthday and I had enjoyed a lovely weekend of birthday celebrations, but Tanai and I braved the cold and had dinner in a Peruvian restaurant, toasting ourselves with pisco sours for getting through this last tough year.

So now that I've seen off the cancer, my life has become primarily about making sure it doesn't return. The Tamoxifen and Zoladex (which I explained more here) have properly kicked in, and I'm currently experiencing the full force of menopausal symptoms. I have a couple of hot flushes every hour during the day, and several times at night, which is waking me up 3-4 times every night. I'm struggling a little with how this is affecting my sleep, so I'm trying to do as much as I can to reduce the impact they have on me. (I've also decided that 'hot flushes' is a ridiculous name for them. More like 'power surges' -- honestly they are so full on!) I'm doing a 4-week self-guided CBT course to try to reduce their impact and frequency, and I've even bought a 'lady magnet', a small magnet that you wear attached to your undies which, in some women, reduces the severity of hot flushes (I told you I'd try anything!). At the Bart's menopause clinic they have prescribed me with some anti-hypertension drugs which reduce hot flushes as a side effect. But I'm just going to wait a few weeks before taking them, preferring first to see if I can do something more natural. They are absolutely horrid though, and I can see how they are quite debilitating, especially in a work situation. It's so difficult to describe them but it's almost as if your bodily temperature gauge is broken, and your temperature oscillates between freezing and boiling all through the day and night. Because my sleep is being so interrupted, I'm having to try to ensure I have many hours in bed each night, in order that I can get as much sleep as possible just to feel rested.

I also received a phone call from my GP practice, saying that they knew I'd come to the end of my active treatment, and that they were now responsible for my care, so did I want to come in and have a chat? Quite astonishing, how pro-active they are! So I went to see my GP (who is lovely) and she helped me out with a few things. She's referred me for a DEXA scan (a bone density scan) so I can see how my bones are faring, and she's referred me for some counselling, to help me make sure my mental health is holding up after a challenging year. I feel as though I've done really well so far,  but I'm finding it hard to deal with the affects of the drugs on my body, the sleepless nights, and the lingering fatigue. Everyone thinks I'm 'done with cancer' and well again, but I'm still going through a lot, and trying really hard to maintain my strength and positivity. It's starting to take its toll, so I figured a few sessions with a professional wouldn't go amiss. I'm also probably putting a little too much pressure on myself to quickly get back to some kind of 'normality', when I should instead be gentle with myself and allow a long and effective convalescence. It's just so hard when I feel I've pressed the 'pause' button on life for so long already, and I'm itching to get back into the swing of things.

The GP also recommended some retail therapy. No, really! I was talking about how I was trying to lose my treatment weight but it was taking its sweet time (2.5kg down, 7.5kg to go!) and she said 'why don't you go out and buy some new clothes, so you feel good about yourself'. I took her literally and bought a cute little pinafore dress.

We have just come back from our first holiday post-treatment, a week in Nice in the South of France. It was a perfect way to relax after this last year, and we really enjoyed the early Spring sunshine on our skin as we explored the Riviera. We bought a book called 'Walk and Eat near Nice' and we did a few of the walks in it, taking a bus to quaint nearby villages and walking through the mountains back towards Nice, admiring the spectacular views of the coast and exploring ancient forts and medieval towns. We also ate some fabulous food and I caught up on sleep. Heavenly!

 

I also thought I'd give you an update on my chemo blanket project. Some of you may remember that I decided to teach myself how to crochet at the beginning of my chemotherapy. This was because I wanted to do something to pass the time while recovering from each round of chemo, that wasn't too taxing on the brain. I bought a copy of 'The Happy Hooker' and taught myself some different techniques. I started with some simple granny squares and graduated to some more complicated ones, with multiple colours. Then I eventually stitched them all together. It's only a small blanket which I've draped over the back of the sofa, but I'm really proud of it, and can see my progression in it. I'm now moving onto another project for a friend, so watch this space!

Venturing out: art class

Now that I have finished chemotherapy, each day I can feel my body grow stronger and it's so wonderful to know that I won't have to take on any more poison just when I'm starting to feel human again. I feel as though I'm finally able to start healing, even though there is still more treatment to come. My surgery will be on 24 October, so I'm concentrating on trying to get as strong and well as I can before then, to give myself the best possible chance to recover from surgery quickly. But today's post is less about what's going on with my body, which is very well documented here, but more about what's been going on with my mind. While my body is healing well now, I've been emotionally quite vulnerable this last week, and it manifested itself in many ways when I went to my first art class last Wednesday. I'd like to share it with you here, as my mental health is also an important part of this journey, and as so much of this is new to me, I want to document my experience with honesty and openness.

I decided to enrol on the art class partly because I wanted something gentle and creative to do while recovering from treatment. I've spent 6 months doing very little other than work and having treatment, but I know that my energy levels won't suddenly bounce back to how they were before. I loved painting when I was at school, and I've always wanted to try it again. Plus my friend Jana has been attending this class for a couple of years, and she has been producing some wonderful work, so in a way it was a 'tried and tested' class. So I went along last Wednesday, excited to be doing something new and wondering what I would learn. The class is made up of about 8 people (although I think more will join us in week 2), many of whom have been attending this particular class for many years. Some of them have even sold paintings! The teacher is an artist herself and for week 1 she led us in a collage exercise so that we could create compositions that we will eventually paint. I had never done anything like this before, and I found it quite interesting, as ideas generation has always been the area where I fall down. I think this is why I have so often copied paintings in the past, but of course original work is what we should be striving for. 

I think I had failed to appreciate the significance of this class in so many ways relating to my cancer. This was the first time I had done something new, and met new people, since my diagnosis back in February. Before diagnosis I would not have thought twice about putting myself in a situation where I was meeting new people. I am generally quite confident in social situations and love meeting new people, but on Wednesday I felt vulnerable and unsure of myself, and I leaned on my friend Jana who was also in the class, almost clinging closely to her. I'm sure they are a lovely bunch of people, but I felt awkward and self-conscious about how I came across. The cognitive impairment brought about by diagnosis (sometimes called 'chemo brain') is very real, and I still struggle to be as fast and articulate as I used to be. So when the teacher asked me conversationally what artists I liked, my mind went blank and I could not think of any! I madly searched the recesses of my mind but struggled to know how to answer. I then felt so self-conscious about sounding stupid and disinterested (I'm in an art class for goodness' sake! And I can't name any artists I like!) which made the whole thing even worse. 

The other challenge I faced was whether or not to actually tell them I have cancer. While I've been open and candid with the people in my life over the last few months, these were people I was meeting for the first time, with whom I was going to develop a relationship over the next 11 weeks. I was reluctant to be 'the cancer girl' -- I'm very conscious of not wanting to be defined by this. Therefore I decided not to tell them, and simply present myself on face value. But then of course my challenge was that 'face value' is a very depleted, fatigued girl. By 9.30pm I was exhausted, and running out of steam. I almost started to shut down! But I'm much younger than most of the people in the class, so how do I explain that it's way past my usual bedtime and I have very limited energy these days due to treatment? To compound this, that day was the first day I ventured out of the house without a headscarf on. In retrospect I feel that it was way too early (I've worn the scarves ever since). Although I'm excited about finally growing some new hair, it really is still very short, and I garnered many more stares than I ever have with the scarves. So I suppose they also had no explanation for my appearance either.

Perhaps I'm making too much of it, but all I know is that the evening had a significant impact on me emotionally. I got home and cried and cried. So many thoughts were swimming around in my head. I will have to re-learn how to socialise. I have to learn how to navigate meeting new people and whether (or how) I reveal my diagnosis. I physically can't do what I used to be able to do. I have to learn how to 'be me' when I have changed significantly. I'm sure that over time it will get easier but it was quite an unexpected shock to be feeling these feelings from something as unassuming as an art class. I also then grappled with whether or not to return to the class, as I am worried that if I don't, I may never re-learn how to navigate the world, and that, a bit like falling off a horse, I really ought to see it through. 

I suppose the main lesson is that which I've been conscious of all along. My mental health is just as important as my physical health, and I need to practice just as much self-care in nurturing my emotional resilience as I do resting and looking after my body. I will grow stronger both physically and mentally over the coming weeks and months, and I will need to also make adjustments in my life, both physically and mentally. Once again, I need to ensure I'm not too hard on myself, and I give myself time to find my 'new normal'. So I shall go back to class this week, and try to be as strong as possible, and it will get easier each week. And who knows, I may even paint something awesome!

My new baby fluffy hair

A biomorphic collage