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Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts

Friday, 14 August 2020

Whipping the rug from under cancer's feet

This post is a bit different to my previous posts, as I have a guest! I want to share my sister Pippa's story with you, as I think this will be helpful to anyone going through something similar to her, and she is also really keen to share her experiences. For those of you who don't know her, my sister Pippa is 11 years younger than I, and she lives in Leeds with her partner and 5-year-old son. I interviewed her for this post, and for a forthcoming podcast series I'm creating, and this is her story.

Recording our conversation

Pippa remembers vividly the day in February 2017 when she received the call from me telling her I had been diagnosed with breast cancer. Although Pip and I are very different in many ways, there are some ways in which we are very similar. We have both inherited our granny's stoic pragmatism. Pip had a very practical response to my diagnosis, and felt optimistic once she knew my prognosis. We kept in touch all through treatment, and she sent me this awesome card when I got my scan mid-way through chemo which showed that the lump had halved in size:

Interestingly, Pippa didn't realise at first that I was quite young to receive a cancer diagnosis, but over time, her understanding of the situation deepened, partly through the information that I was sharing. She was grateful that we could be real with each other and she could ask me lots of questions. She remembers realising that cancer really could happen to anyone, as I had lived such a healthy lifestyle until that point so my diagnosis was quite a surprise. She was optimistic, and could see the light at the end of the tunnel; she shared my own positive attitude towards my cancer journey. When I received my BRCA1 diagnosis in 2018, however, she was more affected emotionally, because she had thought that I was done with cancer, finished with it all, whereas here was evidence that it hadn't necessarily gone away, but had the potential to return and affect her family once more. She found it less easy to compartmentalise my BRCA diagnosis, and it brought the strange semantic challenge of how to talk about my cancer. She wanted to say "My sister has had cancer" rather than "My sister has cancer", but the BRCA situation complicated things. And of course she eventually realised it had implications for her, despite the fact that I initially downplayed the risks and talked about getting screened rather than having preventative surgery.

Towards the end of 2018, Pip saw a genetic counsellor at a hospital in Leeds, and began the process of getting tested for the BRCA mutation herself. She knew she had a 50/50 chance of testing positive. (Incidentally, my dad and my two paternal cousins were also tested. Dad tested positive of course, and, thankfully, my cousins tested negative. Our youngest sister Caitlin also later tested negative.) The testing was quicker for them than it was for me, because their tests only needed to look for the specific mutation that I had been diagnosed with, whereas my test had sequenced the whole BRCA gene. As with my results, Pip got hers in the post, and she knew that she had tested positive when a leaflet about dealing with cancer fell out of the envelope! At first she pushed the issue to one side; our granny was ill and we as a family had other things to concern ourselves with, but as the weeks went by she thought and talked about it. 

She was in a relatively new relationship, and one of the knock-on effects of receiving the diagnosis was that she had to have quite premature conversations with her new partner about their appetite for having children together, and the specific timescale of this. In fact, they had these conversations in a hypothetical context before she'd even received her results. It's a testament to Martin's all-round awesomeness that only a couple of months after meeting Pippa, he stepped up, engaged with these questions, and supported her through the whole process. In a similar way to the gratitude Pip has towards my partner, Tanai, for supporting me through my treatment, I am so grateful to Marty for being such a strong, positive presence in my sister's life.

The BRCA1 diagnosis brought Pippa a sense of urgency about completing her family, in order that she could then have preventative surgeries. As you can imagine, these issues all weighed heavily on her mind in the weeks and months after receiving the letter. To make matters even worse, and as regular readers will know, when I had my 'preventative' oophorectomy in February 2019, the lab results unexpectedly showed that I had already developed early-stage ovarian cancer, so I then had to have much more invasive surgery and more chemo. Suddenly the spectre of cancer started to loom over Pippa. It didn't help that the symptoms of ovarian cancer (needing to pee often, feeling bloated etc) are basically the same symptoms as those of simply being a woman! Our granny was also getting very ill, and we knew she was reaching the end of her life, and, understandably, Pippa started to feel overwhelmed with everything that was going on. She visited her GP who was very understanding, and got Pip some referrals to get herself checked out for breast and ovarian cancer (blood tests, scans, ultrasounds etc) to put her mind at rest. She had also, meanwhile, had an appointment with a CNS (Cancer Nurse Specialist) who had talked her through all the breast reconstruction options, and who suggested that Pippa had her breast surgery first, then once she had healed from that she could complete her family, and then she could have her ovaries removed after that. This sequence of events hadn't occurred to Pippa, but it seemed to solve a lot of her problems! It meant that she would be able to have her breast surgery without having to deal with lifting and carrying babies, and it meant that she had some time before she had to think about having another child. Of course it would mean that Pippa couldn't breastfeed her future children, but that wasn't high on her list of priorities so this seemed like the perfect sequence of surgeries.

Towards the end of 2018 Pip had come to a decision about her course of treatment, and she had an appointment with her breast surgeon. Interestingly, over the course of the year she'd been mulling over her choices, she'd changed her mind several times! As well as my own situation, she'd found out that another woman at work also had the BRCA1 mutation, and had undergone preventative treatment years previously, and she joined a secret facebook group of people with BRCA1 and BRCA2 mutations which she found incredibly useful. Pippa made different treatment decisions to me, and we discussed at length what made her choose to have implant reconstruction. Her surgeon had said that she was a good candidate for flap reconstruction, where the surgeon removes tissue from elsewhere in your body (usually abdomen or back) and reconstructs breast forms in your chest. However, Pippa wanted to avoid surgery which had a long recovery time, or which might negatively affect her experience of pregnancy and childbirth down the line, so in the end she chose to have a double mastectomy with immediate reconstruction using over-the-muscle implants. She didn't really ever consider remaining flat as I have chosen, partly because her body shape is very different from mine, and she felt as though she wouldn't feel right in her body without something 'up top'. She knew that to go flat would likely exacerbate her own insecurities about her belly and bum, and she would rather keep her curves and ensure that she felt good in her body and protected her mental health. 

So on Friday 13 March 2020 (oo-er) Pippa had her surgery. Only days later, due to the COVID pandemic, all elective surgery was cancelled, so she was incredibly lucky to get in under the wire! She came home with two drains in, one which stayed in for a week and the other for a fortnight. Mum went to stay with her to look after her along with Marty, and her son was briefed beforehand that mummy was going to be feeling a bit poorly for a while and he needed to make sure he didn't jump on her or anything. He was really great and just got on with it, and after a while Pip started getting her strength and range of motion back, and she healed really well. Interestingly, before her surgery she'd decided on round implants, but while she was under the anaesthetic, her surgeon had tried them, discovered that they didn't quite look right, and so had put in teardrop ones instead! They are a few sizes smaller than Pippa's old bra size (from a size F to a D), and when I asked her how she felt about them she responded really positively. She thinks they're a great shape, she loves how she looks in all her clothes, and she's happy with the size and the feel of them. Obviously she no longer has nipples, but that doesn't overly bother her (she's undecided about whether or not to have nipples constructed or tattooed, or to just leave them as they are). She has phantom nipples which sometimes itch or hurt, even though they are not there! (I also sometimes have phantom breasts which is super weird.) Occasionally she will have a wave come over her, as she realises the enormity of everything she's going through, but that passes, and more often than not she's happy and grateful to have been able to take preventative measures, reducing her chance of getting breast cancer to much lower than the average woman on the street.

Sisters compared

Many people in the BRCA community who have not had cancer call themselves 'previvors', which is a cute and catchy term, but Pippa insists that she doesn't feel as though she's survived anything. As she terms it, she's "whipped the rug from under cancer's feet", and she would much rather have undergone the preventative surgery than endured chemotherapy. (I completely agree!)

I'm so proud of my sister for the way she has dealt with all of this. She has not finished her journey by any means, but she's achieved so much already, and managed it while caring for her family, keeping her home and bringing in an income, without losing her love of creativity and her incredible capacity to act thoughtfully towards others. I hope you've found this other perspective useful, and thank you Pippa for generously sharing your story.

Sunday, 27 August 2017

Heart scans and more tests

This week I had my 7th and penultimate chemo, and I'm now at home over a lovely sunny bank holiday weekend, recovering and trying to rest. My aunt Siobhan came down from Tunbridge Wells to join me in the hospital and she treated me to a relaxing hand and foot massage when we got back to the flat afterwards. I felt thoroughly pampered! It was so lovely to have a natter with her and catch up. An unexpected positive side effect of chemo. The other, not-so-positive side effects are kicking in now and I'm being gentle with myself, giving myself time to get well again. It's hard sometimes to look out of the window at the blue skies, hear the carefree laughter of passers by enjoying their summer long weekend, and not feel a little cheated by it all. But I know that this too shall pass, and I will have the opportunity to enjoy sunny long weekends again in the future. In the meantime I should rest, relax, heal and not be too hard on myself.

Since moving onto the new drug regime (which I've had for the last 3 rounds) I've been experiencing some heart palpitations which intensify about a week after treatment. I mentioned this to my oncologist on Monday so he has referred me to a cardio-oncologist to get my heart looked at. Although I have a Heart Echo test every 3 months to check that the Herceptin isn't having too strong an effect on my heart; as the nurse said at my last test, 'that's the plumbing, not the electrics'! So on Thursday morning I went back to St Bart's to have a 24-hour heart monitor attached. This consisted of three large circular patches, stuck to my chest and either side of my ribcage, which were each attached to some wires which then fed into a little box which clipped to my waistband. I had to wear it for 24 hours underneath my clothes and carry on as usual. I then popped back on Friday morning to take the kit back. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it!) I didn't experience any major palpitations while I was wearing the kit. So we'll see what the results are. I have to head back into hospital on Tuesday afternoon for two different kinds of heart tests and to see the cardio-oncologist to assess the results. Once again, it's wonderful that the NHS are being so thorough at making sure I am okay: I feel as though I'm in safe hands.

Wearing my heart monitor

Today is quite a significant date, as it's exactly 6 months since Tanai and I were in a doctor's room and first heard the words 'you have a breast cancer'. I feel as though it's a milestone. Psychologically, perhaps in an attempt to contain what I'm going through, I have been thinking of this whole thing as 'pressing the pause button on life for a year'. I know it's much more complicated than that, but I want to ensure I don't feel bad about 'opting out' of things for a year while I go through treatment. It may take longer than a year, but at the moment that's how I'm looking at it. And I'm on track. So today is the half-way mark. From now on, I'm nearer to recovery than I am to diagnosis, and that feels good.

Only one more chemo to go! I know that a couple of months ago I never thought I'd get to this stage, so I feel very happy about this.


Siobhan enjoying the frittata and salad I made for our hospital picnic


Outside King George V building heading into chemo


Home to a relaxing foot massage


Collecting hair inspiration for when my hair starts to grow back

Sunday, 9 April 2017

Pre-treatment fun

In a few short days treatment will begin and no doubt my day to day life will change significantly. Knowing that I will soon embark on a period of at least 6 months where my ability to enjoy certain things I love (food, travel, the energy to do loads) will decrease, has made me more fully appreciate some of the fun of the last few weeks. With my prognosis imminent, our long-planned weekend in Heidelberg for Tanai's birthday, for example, took on a new importance. We flew to Frankfurt airport for the last weekend in March, and my aunt and cousin picked us up. My mum's brother, Paul, his wife Milena, and their two children Liam and Antonia have lived in Heidelberg for many years, and I have visited them often, but this was Tanai's first trip there. It's such a beautiful town, and we were lucky enough to have gorgeously sunny Spring weather for the whole weekend. We were spoilt rotten by my family, who cooked us delicious food, entertained us and ensured we had a thoroughly wonderful time. Paul played tour guide and we visited Heidelberg's famous castle, sampled some of the local beer, and of course pork, potatoes and sauerkraut. For Tanai's birthday we had a delicious meal in a Bulgarian restaurant, where the boys had whole spears of meat and Milena and I enjoyed Bulgarian ratatouille. And we cycled to Schwetzingen palace, where there are some stunning gardens and the cherry blossoms were in bloom. Milena and Antonia treated us to a fascinating night at the theatre, where we saw a contemporary dance piece and ended up having bubbles served on the stage by upside-down dancers! The sunny weather definitely helped me feel rejuvenated, and it is always great to get away from London for a long weekend. We walked and cycled past allotments, fields and the bustle of Spring was around us. It was also great to think about things other than cancer for a while! I'm sure I'll love similar distractions over the coming months.


Our hosts, beneath the cherry blossoms


With Tanai in the wonderful cherry blossom garden


Paul and Tanai overlooking the castle and the river


Liam and Tanai and the spears of meat!


Being served by upside-down dancers


Riding in the laneways of Heidelberg

The spring weather has also been lovely during the days at work, as we have a deck on our fourth floor and can now sit out there during lunchtime, and even for some after-work drinks. This week was bitter-sweet for me as one of my team members was leaving. Only two days before we'd had team karaoke and we'd belted out classics together, and now I was saying goodbye. Phil is my favourite office DJ, he makes me laugh every day and I will really miss him.


On the roof of the office


Belting out Rocket Man with Phil


Team Awesome karaoke

Following my recent hair-loss worries, yesterday two of my girlfriends took me shopping to the fabric stores on Berwick Street in Soho, and we bought some fabric for me to fashion into hair wraps. We also watched some videos on YouTube and I practiced tying some fabulous African-inspired hair pieces over my head. It was a lovely day hanging out with them, and now I'm a lot less worried about losing my hair, as I feel a whole new style coming on! I'm even considering not bothering with a wig, and just going with scarves the whole time. I'm keen to buy even more brightly-coloured fabric and making some fashion statements. But at least now I am prepared for the inevitable.


So much fabric!


With my fabulous shopping companions


Bus fun!


First attempt at a hair scarf (youtube vid in background)

Another thing I'm concerned about is losing my tastebuds during chemo, and not being able to taste the delicious food my friends cook! So today we went to my friend Taey's house for lunch, and she made amazing slow-cooked short ribs which she'd marinated the night before. They were so tasty, Tanai could not stop talking about the food all the way home. I love Taey's cooking and the thought of waiting another 6 months before I can taste it again makes me sad, but it will taste all the sweeter after I'm done with the chemo. It was also lovely to see how little Marou is growing, he is so happy and chilled out, a lovely little boy. Not sure how much I'll be able to hang out with my friends' kids over the coming months either, as I'll have a low immune system and they are basically human germ-factories, so I'm getting my fix now.



Storytime

Tomorrow I will probably find out when my first chemo is and then it's action stations. Until then, I'm having a relaxing evening with a dark chocolate Lindt bunny and a book on post-colonialism.