Pathology results (again!)

Today I went to see my breast surgeon, Miss L_____, for my post-op pathology results. They sent all the tissue they removed on 3 December to the lab, and it's great news: there was no evidence of disease in any of it. So I'm once again officially cancer-free and on the road to recovery. It felt quite emotional actually, and a huge relief. How great to get that news just in time for Christmas and the end of the year.

My surgery went really well. Here's a little update on it all.

Marked up with sharpies for surgery

So I went in on 3 December and was put under anaesthetic around midday, and woke up around 3pm. I had far fewer tubes and wires than last time, just a cannula in the inside of my left elbow for the anaesthetic and pain relief, and two drains coming out of either side of my torso just underneath where my breasts had been, held in place with stitches. I was quite woozy from the anaesthetic but felt great, and so relieved to have them removed at last. I have felt as though I had two ticking time bombs on my chest for the last few months! I managed some dinner on the ward and they let Tanai stay with me until quite late. The nurses were all totally wonderful and checked my blood pressure and temperature regularly through the night. I had my own room but still didn't manage to get any sleep! I think the adrenaline was pumping and I actually felt quite nervous so my body kept waking me back up every time I dozed off. Every time I wanted to go to the toilet I had to carry these two drain bottles with me, and it was all quite awkward, but I managed it.

Very woozy post-surgery dinner

One of my drains on the floor by my bed, draining from my body.

The next morning I was visited by various people, including the two surgeons who had removed my breasts. I hadn't realised but there was one surgeon on either side! I am quite intrigued as to which side was done by my amazing surgeon and which by her registrar, but I guess I'll never know. Both sides look great, really neat and tidy, so both of them did a fantastic job. I have no stitches either: they used glue. And I have been feeling remarkably pain-free, I've only taken a few paracetamol in the couple of weeks since my surgery. A nurse removed my drains under the supervision of a more senior nurse, watched by a student nurse. I had some lunch and then I was discharged. Home less than 24 hours after waking up from surgery, how incredible.

Just before my drains were removed. The boobless wonder!

Since then I have been mainly resting on the sofa, trying to do little walks each day and doing my physio exercises a few times a day. My range of motion is not bad, but I can't lift my arms too high, and I'm not supposed to be lifting anything heavier than a small glass of water. Tanai couldn't be away from work too long (this is my third surgery of the year after all!) so I've had a roster of amazing friends coming over to make me lunch each day, which has been lovely. I've started getting back into my studying, in anticipation of all the essays I have to complete next year, and I've been listening to lots of podcasts. I have bought a giant U-shaped pregnancy pillow which is really helping me to sleep well. And we are being very careful about infection risk, washing bedding, towels and PJs every day.

 The amazing pillow

One of the inevitabilities after surgery is a seroma. This is a gathering of fluid near the surgery site, which the drains would have drained away. Over the last couple of weeks I developed two seroma, right where my breasts had been. They looked like cute little a/b-cup boobs! But they were sloshy and uncomfortable, so when I saw my surgeon today she drained the liquid out of them, leaving me flat again. There was 90ml in the right one, and 150ml in the left one! Apparently I will probably need to go in a couple more times before my body learns to reabsorb the liquid itself. I feel much better now and it was quite emotional saying goodbye to Miss L_____. She was the one back in February 2017 who first told me I had breast cancer. What a rollercoaster it's been since then. And today we said goodbye, shook hands, and with a little bit of luck, that's the last of it.

Of course I still have various follow-up appointments, including one in January with my ovarian oncologist, but officially I'm now part of the 'open access follow-up' programme, which means I have to just contact them if anything feels strange and they'll see me. Given that there is very little left in my body for the cancer to grow in, I'm hoping that I don't have to go back in.

It really feels like a huge milestone, the end of a particularly challenging chapter of my life, and the beginning of a new one. I am marking this change in a number of other ways. We have given notice on our flat here in Clerkenwell, and we will move out in March. It's been lovely living here for 3 years and I was so incredibly lucky to live close to St Bartholomew's Hospital, one of the best cancer hospitals in the country, for my treatment. It's also been a gorgeous, sun-filled space to recover and convalesce. But for various reasons we've decided to move in the new year, partly to get somewhere cheaper and with more space, and partly to move out of central London and to somewhere a bit more 'local' and leafy. It's time to move on.

As you know, I continued to work all through my treatment, even through both my bouts of chemo, which, looking back on it all, was incredible. It was good for my mental health at first, but this year my mental health took quite a battering, and unfortunately work was contributing to a lot of that stress and negativity. So I took the astonishing decision to quit my job and go freelance! Perhaps a little rash, but cancer definitely makes you realise how important it is to feel happy and fulfilled in your career, especially given how much time we spend at work. I have been giving myself a little rest for the last few weeks, but in January I will start up with my own consultancy. I'm just getting my website ready now. And fingers crossed I will quickly find some paying work and make a go of it. I'm very excited about this development and I'm confident it will work out well. I've always wanted to be my own boss.

And finally, perhaps trivially (although it doesn't feel that trivial), I have realised that I will need a whole new wardrobe, and a whole new look. My body shape is completely different now. I am slender and flat on top, and due to my ovarian cancer surgery, I have permanent swelling in my lower torso, so all the lovely fitted 50s-style frocks I used to rock, just won't look right any more. I'm actually really enjoying wearing old t-shirts that my breasts used to distort, and I've even picked up a pair of Whistles trousers from a charity shop which I love. I've not owned a pair of trousers for years! I'm going to operate a 'one in, one out' policy, and only purchase new clothes when I've raised enough money from selling my old ones. I have so many lovely frocks, so I plan to ebay them all in the new year. I will also donate some of the money to Breast Cancer Now, who have been so amazing during my treatment.

Flattie with fish and chips

So there we go! The enormity of it all hasn't quite sunk in yet. But I'm looking forward to a relaxed Christmas up north and a very low-key new year. Bring on 2020 and all the regeneration it promises!

General update

My last round of chemo, the fourth round, was on Thursday 1 August, and it coincided with my third Zometa infusion, which I have every 6 months to protect my bones. Unfortunately it seems that the side effects compounded each other and I had 5 days of feel wretched and incredibly nauseous. For most of the weekend afterwards I couldn't really make it out of bed, the fatigue was immense. It really knocked me back. For this reason, and because I've had so many delays this time, I was dreading chemo 5 this week. First of all, I could tell that my bloods wouldn't be good enough, so I'd be pushed back another week. And I was dreading how I'd feel, and how long the side effects were going to last. Chemo is cumulative, after all, so it stands to reason that you feel worse each round.

So on Thursday I went to my regular pre-chemo oncology appointment, but this time I was prepared for a tough conversation. When Dr M____ asked me how I was, I explained that, while I'm certainly feeling much better physically than I did when going through chemo in 2017, I've been struggling with the impact it's having on my life, and therefore my mental health is taking a battering. I have tried to avoid putting my life on hold this time, but when my chemo keeps getting delayed, it's incredibly hard to plan things. We had a good conversation about it, and we have decided to stop chemo altogether. I was so relieved I got a bit teary! There is no evidence that suggests that 6 rounds would be more effective than 4, and the cancer I had was so tiny that it's highly unlikely there are any rogue cells remaining. And if there are, 2 more rounds are not going to do anything to them if the 4 I've had already haven't nuked them! Let's face it, this chemo was elective, and my first dose was double that of the subsequent doses. As it turns out, my bloods weren't good enough anyway (platelets were only 75), so I'd have been delayed, as I predicted. But I'm so pleased we've made this decision and I don't have to go through carboplatin again.

I now have to have a CT scan (standard after a course of chemo) and I will see the oncologist again in 6 weeks' time. Then I will have a check-up every 3 months, with a CA-125 blood test (for signs of ovarian cancer) for 2 years, after which it will become every 6 months, and then every year, until I hit the magic 5-year mark.

So now I have to concentrate on getting myself stronger and fitter in preparation for my mastectomy. I have a mammogram and an MRI in October, and then I should be seeing my breast surgeon some time in November to get the results and to plan for surgery. I'm hoping that can be sometime soon in the new year. There's still quite a lot ahead but I feel as though I've passed another milestone in my treatment.

Celebrating another milestone with St John's donuts

In other news, I've been accepted as a volunteer counsellor for Breast Cancer Care, as part of their Someone Like Me programme. This is where women who are newly diagnosed can be paired with someone who has been in a similar situation, and have a series of phone calls. Before I can do this, I have to go through a training programme, and then I am mentored for my first few calls, before I'm a fully fledged counsellor. It's a voluntary position for a minimum of 3 years. I'm really looking forward to doing this. It's so important for me to 'give back' in a meaningful way, and help others going through what I've gone through.

I've also recently been seeing a new counsellor myself, through my GP, and I'm having a much better experience this time than I did with the psychotherapy team at Bart's. I see her every Thursday morning for an hour, and we've talked about so much. She has really helped me to think about things in a different way, and pursue lines of enquiry that I'm finding really helpful. I have 4 more sessions left, so hopefully that will feel like enough.

For those of you who don't follow me on instagram, I've also finished my post-treatment craft project: a baby blanket for a good friend who gave birth to a little girl a month ago. I crocheted when I was confined to my couch after both my surgeries, during chemo, and as I've been recovering each round at home. I'm so proud of the result!

The finished blanket!

Cancer survivorship course and lymphedema clinic

It's been a week since my second round of chemo and I'm doing well, despite not taking my steroids this time. As with last time, the first couple of days were fine, I felt well and had loads of energy. Then days 3-5 (Saturday to Monday) I felt pretty rubbish, the nausea kicked in and the fatigue hit me. Unfortunately, as I hadn't planned on this week being a chemo week (but my treatment was delayed) I had made quite a few plans. Lunches, coffees and dinners with friends and visitors from overseas. I soldiered on through them all, and then crashed on Sunday, exhausted. I tried to make it into work on Monday but the nausea was overwhelming, so as soon as I arrived I had to turn around again and come home. But by Tuesday morning I felt fine again and I have been doing okay since then, cycling into work, or walking home, trying to ensure my resting heart rate doesn't creep back up too much.

My hair is doing really well too. I'm loving my new hair style. A few strands of hair come out each time I wash my hair, but nowhere near as bad as the clumps that were falling out when I had chemo in 2017. I'm restricting myself to only washing my hair twice a week to minimise hair loss, so hopefully I'll get to the end of chemo with just a bit of thinning. I did keep all of my headscarves from last time I had chemo, but it's nice not to have to use them again. Although I have been wearing some of them as regular scarves, as they're so beautiful!

New earrings!

On Monday evening I started an online course on 'Cancer Survivorship' which I think is going to be interesting. It's from 7-9pm on Monday evenings and we all join each other from all over the country via Zoom, an online meeting software. It's for people of any gender, age and cancer type, and includes participants with primary and secondary cancer. It has four main components, focussing on our psychological, physiological, immunological and emotional health. It's run by a passionate, knowledgeable and enthusiastic guy called Sam and he has run this within the NHS before, and many times online. It's evidence-based, but also rooted in positive psychology and influenced by ayurvedic medicine. He cites some incredible case studies to back up his advice, and over the next few weeks we will gain lots of knowledge and techniques, which I'm looking forward to. The intro session laid the foundations, focussing a lot on positive psychology, and how we can use our minds to determine some incredible physical outcomes. I think it will be really useful, I'll keep you posted.

Joining the class

This week I also had my appointment at the lymphedema clinic, where I saw a nurse who gave me some advice about the swelling I now have around my pelvis and abdomen following the removal of my pelvic lymph nodes. She has taught me some 'MLD', or manual lymphatic drainage, which is basically where you perform massage on various parts of your body to encourage the lymph to drain and reduce swelling. She also gave me some kinesiology tape, and showed me how to stick it from my back around to my stomach, so that it massages my lymph around my body while I'm walking along. She has also ordered me some compression tights which should help, and she told me to buy some cheap spanx-type shorts to create more compression around that area. LOL. I also have to get a gel cover for my bike saddle to protect my lady parts from problems caused by my surgery. She said that you can pay to have manual lymphatic drainage done privately by experts, but that it's better to try to get someone to teach me techniques so that I can ensure I'm doing this frequently and getting maximum benefit. 

Tanai heads off to Colombia for 3 weeks on Wednesday, so I'll be home solo for a while. I've got a few little bits and bobs planned but I'm hoping to have a relaxed summer and continue to recover from my surgery and build my strength.

At home recovering

Reading over my last post, I sounded a little down, which I think is understandable given that I was in so much pain, feeling incredibly sleep-deprived, and completely immobile. Now that I am home and slowly regaining my strength, my spirits are also rising. It's so great to be back in my own bed, although I'm having broken sleep, and I'm still not able to really do much more than occasionally move from the couch to the bathroom and back. I'm slowly regaining my appetite, and the doctor has recommended I eat a protein-rich diet to help my wound heal, so I'm trying to make sure I eat lots of protein. I have a craft project on the go, as I'm still not really ready to focus on reading a book just yet, and I'm listening to the fifth Tales of the City book on audible. Tanai is working from home this week and basically doing everything around the house, as I'm not allowed to lift anything and can't even bend over to pick something up off the floor. He's being a total legend.

Eating lunch at home

I want to take a moment to acknowledge how incredible our NHS is. For those of you not UK-based, this is the National Health Service, a 70-year-old institution funded by our taxes, which provides universal healthcare free at the point of delivery for all people residing in the UK. I received all my treatment for breast cancer through the NHS and now I'm having my ovarian cancer treatment with them too. I haven't paid a penny and won't need to pay anything, which I know differs markedly from the healthcare provisions in other countries. Having cancer is stressful enough without having to worry about getting into massive debt to pay for healthcare! Yes, their systems and processes need updating (it's very paper-based) and they are being run into the ground due to chronic underfunding by the Tory government and a major shortage of nurses due to Brexit, but it's still (just about) creaking on, and I am so incredibly grateful. They are saving my life for a second time.

I stayed in hospital for 6 days after my surgery. Each day the NHS worked like clockwork around me and the other patients on my ward. I had my temperature and blood pressure checked hourly in the first few days, and every 3 hours once I had stabilised. The doctors did their rounds in the morning, assessed me, and revised their judgements about when I should go home. My bed linen was changed every morning and I had a little wash and donned a fresh gown. All my meals were provided, as well as regular coffees, teas, hot chocolates. The food is a bit like school dinners, and consisted mainly of overcooked, bland vegetables with questionable meat, but it was nutritious, and also free. The nurses work in 12-hour shifts, a day team and a night team, so there is round the clock care. I had a buzzer on my bed which I could press at any time, and a nurse would come and attend me, so when I was feeling incredible pain at 3am, someone came and brought me liquid morphine to ease the pain. My wound dressings were removed by two student nurses under the supervision of the ward nurse, which they did very well, and they thanked me for allowing them to get experience doing this as it all counts towards their nursing qualifications. And when I was discharged, I was given a massive bag of meds: 3 different types of pain relief to last me 7 days, the rest of the course of antibiotics they have put me on, some tablets to prevent stomach ulcers due to the pain relief, anti-sickness tablets, and 28 little injections that I have to inject myself in my belly for a month to prevent blood clots (due to being immobile). Once again, no payment exchanged hands for these. 

They do so many thankless tasks, changing my bag of pee when I had a catheter, turning and lifting people who are immobile, dealing with people who are cranky and distressed, and in one instance, racist (the lady next to me was on the phone complaining to her husband about how 'all the nurses were blacks'!), and they are paid in some instances less than the London Living Wage. It makes me so angry that we live in a culture which values care work and other vital professions, such as teaching, on such a low level, and yet values other types of work (eg banking, politics) so highly. Our society relies on people in the caring professions to have some kind of 'vocation', and to do the job because they love it, not for the money. This is fine, I've never been particularly motivated by money, but you need to pay people a decent living wage. One of my chemo nurses quipped that she would be better off getting a job in retail as it pays more and is less stressful than nursing! And this is being borne out by the numbers of people leaving the profession, and the reduction in people applying to train. Last year there was a shortage of 70,000 nurses applying for job in the NHS. Brexit has a lot to do with this, as Europeans are uncertain of their rights to work here, but also other non-Brits are feeling less and less welcome in the UK. I would say, over the two years of being treated for cancer, around 10% of the people caring for me have been British. The NHS would fall apart without migrant workers, and that is exactly what it is doing. I am witnessing it crumbling from the inside. The nurses and doctors are all so overworked, you can feel the strain on them of being short staffed. They are all having to cover each other's duties and it's taking its toll. It's incredibly tragic to see, but with the continuing conservative governments and their ongoing privatisation of NHS services, I don't see how this trend can be reversed. I feel lucky to be getting my treatment in the twilight years of the NHS, and hope that I can once again be cancer-free before it totally falls apart.

I'm going to post a photo of my scar at the bottom of this post, so don't scroll down if you're squeamish, as it's quite a Frankenstein-esque scar! I have 42 industrial-sized staples in there, which I need to get removed at my GP on Friday. Then next Wednesday I go back to clinic to see my surgeon and find out the pathology of all the elements they have removed, and get the next steps. Until then, it's a glacial recovery, slowly getting stronger and more mobile each day.

 What a scar!

Recovering from surgery

I drafted a post last week about how I was recovering from my oophorectomy, but didn’t get chance to publish it before I headed back in for my second surgery. The two experiences are markedly different. I guess all of that is irrelevant now, as this more major surgery has taken over. I thought I'd give a summary so you know how I'm getting on. I won't sugar-coat it, it's tough. This is the most major operation I've ever had in my life, and I've got to admit I'm struggling. But each day I'm getting a little stronger, so I just need to be patient and take it day by day.

In Recovery

Jugular cannula!

The surgery went well, the surgeon had a look around and didn't seem to find anything untoward, and I only lost 220ml of blood, so didn't need to have a transfusion, or go onto the High Dependency Unit, which is good! I was in the recovery bay until 2.30am on Wednesday morning though, as my blood pressure was really low, and they wanted it to come up before I went on the ward. I've been on the ward since then. So they removed my uterus, cervix, all my abdominal and chest lymph nodes and my omentum, which is part of the peritineum, and to do this they had to open me up from just below my breasts to my lower abdomen. I'm going to have an epic scar! It took them almost 6 hours. I also woke up with way more tubes than I was expecting.

- They put a cannula in the jugular vein in my neck, and then stitched it to me! This was an emergency line in during the op which I don't think they used in the end. When they removed the tube from it, it was about 6 inches long. Eurgh.

- They also put a cannula in an artery in my left hand.

- They also put a cannula in a regular vein in my left hand, which is still being used to give me pain relief

- They also put a cannula in a regular vein in my neck, which is still being used for pain relief and anti-nausea. They used my neck because I can't have sharps in my right arm due to having lymph nodes removed a couple of years ago during my breast cancer op

- They also gave me an epidural in my back, for pain relief during the surgery and for the first couple of days afterwards. I assumed I would never have an epidural because I thought they were just for childbirth! It was pretty cool, and when they removed it yesterday the nurse showed me the blue hooked tip which is used to deliver the anaesthetic

- They also had a feeding tube hooked into me via my nose all the way into my stomach

- They also had an oxygen tube hooked into my nose and round my ears, delivering me pure oxygen

- I also had a catheter as I couldn't walk so needed to be able to pee

Now, two days later, I just have the two regular cannulas and my oxygen tube, so there are slightly fewer wires to worry about!

I'm in a room for 4 people, and unfortunately the woman in the bed opposite me is the world's loudest snorer! She's been at it like a generator and seems to have an incredible capacity to fall asleep at all hours. I have earplugs and I can still hear her grating snore through them, it's so loud! Also, they have to do observations on me hourly, checking my blood pressure and temperature, so I'm not getting much rest. My pain relief has been switched to a PCA, which is controlled by me, so I press it every time I require pain relief. This is all very well, but it's forcing me to choose between sleep and pain relief! I'm still not allowed to have solid food, but I've graduated to soups and yoghurts, which means I can now also have ibuprofen in my mix of pain meds.

On the first day they insisted that I stood up and got out of the bed and into a chair. I felt very dizzy and only did it for a few minutes, but it felt like a great achievement. Last night I had a burst of energy and did it again, and managed to stand for about a minute. Today I've been able to walk to the bathroom twice, although very gingerly.

I'm significantly more incapacitated this time round, although I was lucky enough to have some friends bring me yummy food after the last op, so hopefully that will continue to happen after this one! Once again everything they removed will be sent off to the lab, and we will get the pathology reports in about a fortnight, and then we will crack on with the rest of treatment. I'm keen for it all to start, as the sooner it starts the sooner it will finish. I've also donated my tissue to a tissue bank -- so once the lab is done with it, instead of being incinerated, it will be sent to the tissue bank, for both local and international studies. Another opportunity to help medical science and improve cancer care for patients in the future!

I suppose that was a slightly pedestrian, descriptive post, but I felt the need to document it. I'm confident I shall get stronger every day and continue to fight back.

Test results and other stuff

Following my last post about Scanxiety, you'll be pleased to know that my test results came back all clear. I had a little cry when my Oncologist told us, as I really had feared the worst. I feel as though I've been given a second chance, and I want to make sure I make it worth it!

Yesterday I had my first infusion of Zometa, or Zolodronic Acid. I have to have this every 6 months for 3 years. It helps protect my bones from the effects of sudden premature menapause that my other medication is plunging me into, and it also reduces the chance of the cancer coming back by a further 2%. It's administered by IV, and this was the first canula I'd had since my final chemo last September. I thought my veins would have recovered, but no! It took 4 goes to find a vein, and it hurt so much. But now I've had it done, I don't have to have it again until January. The side effects are apparently 3-4 days of 'flu-like symptoms', which I dismissed and headed into work today on my bike. But then in the afternoon it hit me like a bus. The non-air-conditioned office and intense heat didn't help! (It was 34 degrees at my desk today!) But now I really feel whacked out, my bones are aching, my head is all clogged up and all I want to do is sleep. I nearly fell asleep on my cycle home! Eek. Fingers crossed I will feel better soon. I also have calcium and vitamin D tablets on prescription: 2 a day. Thank you NHS for being totes amazeballs.

Other things I've been dealing with lately, include going to the lymphedoema clinic, and being fitted for a lovely sleeve and glove to help combat my lymphedoema (swelling of the right arm and hand due to having fewer lymph nodes to drain my lumph fluid round my body). Unfortunately heat is a trigger so this weather is not helping.

Sexy

I've also seen a physio to find out why my right hip is so sore. He's given me some exercises to do and I'm going back next week. Fingers crossed we can find out what's wrong and sort it, as I want to be able to go hiking and walking again, as well as not wake up in the middle of the night in pain!

Last week I had my final Herceptin, yay! A year's worth done and dusted. That's fewer times I'll have to go into Bart's for injections.

I've also been referred by my GP to a sleep clinic, but that's not until September, to try to help me sleep better (I'm sleeping so badly at the moment). And I've also been doing some counselling with the psycho-oncology services at Bart's, which is really helping.

So back on track! And we head off on our big, relaxing holiday on 8 August: 3 weeks in Canada. Really looking forward to relaxing and seeing some of that beautiful country, as well as catching up with our relatives there.

Studies and courses

Here's another update from me, to let you know how I've been getting on. I'm doing well, generally, and continuing my road to recovery. I'm feeling stronger every day, and have more energy too. My hair is growing back, which is great, although it has a distinct wave to it (it was completely straight before) and it's much darker than my old hair, but I'm taking that in my stride (I've always wanted curly hair!).

A few weeks ago I took part in a study at a London university which was examining cognitive function and psychological health in women with a breast cancer diagnosis. I spent 3 hours in a room in the basement answering questions and attempting difficult tasks on a computer while wearing an EEG cap to measure the activity in my brain. It was quite fascinating and I'm dying to know what they found over the course of the study. They were researching 60 women with a diagnosis and a control group of other women of a similar age and education level. Although I feel as though my cognitive abilities are definitely coming back (no more 'chemo brain'!) I'm still finding that I get frustrated with myself more easily when I get things wrong, or struggle to find my words. I suspect that is what they found when they analysed my brain. When I got things wrong that I felt I ought to have got right, I became so frustrated with myself that it affected my ability to get the next few things right too. I definitely came away feeling as though I should be a little less harsh on myself.

Wearing my EEG cap like a muppet

I've also been doing a 7-week course at the new Maggie's Centre in the grounds of St Bart's hospital, called 'Where Now?'. Designed for people who have finished their active treatment for cancer, it's perfect timing for me to be getting help and advice on getting back into the swing of things and coping with the after effects of treatment. There are 12 of us in the group, of mixed ages and cancer types (I'm the youngest) and we meet every Wednesday from 12-3pm. We start in the hospital gym and do an hour's worth of circuit training, with the wonderful physio, Claus, ensuring that our activity is tailored to our abilities. Then we have an hour's talk on a different topic each week (the first week was nutrition, the second exercise, and coming up are stress management and other useful topics) and then we have lunch together. So far I'm finding it really useful, and the Maggie's building is such a calm, beautiful haven. Anyone can go in there at any time, make a cup of tea, and talk to some of the specialist staff there. 

Inside Maggie's

I'm doing plenty of exercise and making sure I do lots of active minutes each day. Regular exercise which increases the heart rate significantly (160 minutes a week) has been proven to reduce the changes of the cancer coming back by 40%. This is significant enough for me to be fully prioritising working out! Over treatment I put on 10kg (a stone and a half in old money) and I've already lost a third of this already. It's slow going but I'm making sure I'm still feeding my body plenty of nutrients to aid its recovery. I'm eating lots of leafy veg and eating oily fish to help my bones. I've bought a 'Nutri Ninja' and I've been making delicious smoothies, including many green ones. Getting all my vitamins and minerals!

A beetroot smoothie

I've also had continuing appointments, so although I'm done with active treatment, I'm still a regular at St Bart's. I have a few Herceptin injections left and I'm on the Zoladex indefinitely. I try to ensure as many of my appointments are on a Wednesday as possible, and I keep my fingers crossed that the clinics are all running to time. Sometimes I have to wait hours for my medicines to arrive from the pharmacy. I kind of didn't mind the wait when I was having chemo, but now I'm only getting injections I'm keen to be in and out as quickly as possible. Everyone's so lovely there, though, and most of the nurses know me by now, so there is quite a jovial atmosphere and I'm always happy to see familiar faces. Over the last couple of weeks I've also had my regular echocardiogram test, to ensure my heart is still working well despite the Herceptin; a DEXA bone scan to see how my bone density is now that I'm being forced into the menopause; my regular oncology appointment; and I've also had to go to the dentist to get some work done (it never rains but it pours!). I've also had a follow-up with my GP too, it's one thing after another! But I feel as though I'm in safe hands, and it's nice to be easing myself out of treatment rather than disappearing suddenly. My GP has referred me to a sleep clinic as I'm struggling with my sleep at the moment, and this is affecting my daily life. I'm not having any problems falling asleep at the beginning of the night, but I'm waking up 4-5 times each night and I'm struggling to get back to sleep. Hopefully they will be able to help a bit.

NHS chic

During treatment I couldn't go swimming because my neutrophils were low and I was at high risk of sepsis, but now my immune system is doing much better I've started to go swimming in the mornings again. I go to a lovely pool in Kentish Town, near where I work. It's a Grade II listed building and was a public baths back in the Victorian era. Built in 1898 it was where working class people (who didn't have washing facilities at home) used to come and do their laundry, and wash themselves. Now it's been completely restored and I enjoy a tranquil swim under the sunlight-filled roof before work.

One of the other risks my surgery brought about was that of lymphoedema, which is a permanent swelling of the arm and hand on your surgery side. Basically our bodies have a lymphatic system which is constantly moving lymphatic fluid around all the  time, and as I had some lymph nodes removed from under my right armpit during surgery, my lymphatic system is now compromised, so the risk of localised fluid retention and tissue swelling in my right arm has increased. I only had 2 nodes removed, in order for them to check whether or not the cancer had spread, and as they were fine, I didn't have any more removed (some people have them all removed, putting them at a much higher risk), so I didn't think it was likely. I have been diligently doing the exercises given to me post-surgery in order to keep my lymph system going as well as possible. However, last weekend was a very hot weekend by the UK's standards (highs of 29 degrees!) and unfortunately on Sunday my right hand started to swell.

Fat right hand

The swelling remained for a few days so I called my Breast Care Nurse (everyone has a dedicated nurse they can call at any time) and she advised me to pop into the clinic to see her. She measured the circumference of my arm and hand at various points between my knuckle and my upper arm, and at all the points, my right arm was a centimetre wider! But they're still not 100% sure it's lymphoedema, so she's referred me to the specialist clinic. She's also ordered me a compression sleeve and glove for my right arm and hand, which I should wear to encourage the circulation of my lymph fluid. Strangely I'm finding this quite upsetting, even though I suppose in the grand scheme of things it's nothing! But I can see it all the time and it's a constant reminder of the changes my body has been going through. Fingers crossed it's just the heat and it will go down a bit when the weather cools.

[A few days later]
The hand swelling has gone down quite a lot! It's not quite the same as the left hand but it's no longer quite so fat and sore. Hurrah!

I'd better sign off for now, as this is getting very long. Will do another update soon.

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!

Finding my new normal

Hi folks. I thought I'd give you a little update as to how I'm getting along now that active treatment has finished. It's been over a month now since I had my final radiotherapy session, and 2018 has started well. I'm feeling stronger and healthier every day, my hair is growing and I'm adjusting to life post-cancer treatment. Of course, treatment isn't exactly over, but what I'm doing now is trying to prevent the cancer from returning, as there's no evidence of any left in my body.

My hair is growing nicely and I've started getting it cut in a unisex hair salon called Barber Streisand, to avoid the extortionate 'women's' haircut prices. My main aim is just to let it grow and try to keep it tame-ish while it does. It's darker than my old hair and has a definite kink in it, but we'll see what happens as it grows out. My eyebrows and eyelashes are also growing back, although very slowly, and I put mascara on for the first time in months the other day! It's the little things...

I've put on 10kg of weight since I started treatment in April 2017 (that's about a stone and a half in old money). It's gone on evenly all over my body, so while lots of people are graciously saying 'you can't tell', I'm currently unable to fit into most of my clothes and it's starting to really bug me. I'm doing as much exercise as my body will allow me to, and I'm eating very healthily, but it's proving difficult to shift. So far this year (3 weeks in) I've lost only 1kg, so still 9kg to go! Urgh.

On Friday I saw my oncologist again. My appointments with the oncology team are now getting less frequent. While during chemo I saw them every 3 weeks, now I see them every 3 months, and soon that will change to every 6 months, and finally only once a year. They're phasing me out! We had a great chat and she's given me the green light to start swimming again, so hopefully that will help me with shifting my chemo weight. Although chemo has finished, I'm still having Herceptin injections every three weeks (this is the monoclonal antibody I started having in June and explained about here) so I need to have heart scans every 3 months to check that it's not adversely affecting my heart. Last week's heart test results show that my heart is actually improving, which is great news! (Not that surprising as I've finished chemo and exercising much more these days.)

I've also started taking Tamoxifen, a white tablet that I have to take every morning for the next 10 years. And in 2 weeks I will start having Zoladex injections once a month. These are both hormone therapies. My cancer was fed by oestrogen, so the injections will shut down my ovaries to prevent them from producing oestrogen, and the Tamoxifen works by preventing any oestrogen from latching onto and feeding potential cancer cells. These drugs will send me immediately into an early menopause, and I'll keep having the Zoladex until my oncologist is happy that my body is post-menopausal naturally (so potentially until I'm 50 or so!). A medically-induced menopause is usually more severe than a natural one, which takes place gradually over many years, so I've been referred to the Bart's menopause clinic, where I will learn some techniques for dealing with the side effects. One of the main side effects is that my bone density will reduce, leaving me at greater risk of fractures and osteoporosis. To combat this I will start having bisphosphonate infusions (Zometa) every 6 months for 5 years, which slow down the rate of bone thinning, and also help prevent the cancer from returning. The other recommendation is that I do lots of 'weight-bearing' exercise, so I am making sure I get in at least 10,000 steps a day (walking is good weight-bearing exercise) and I have a stretchy band that I use to do a series of exercises every day with my arms to keep my bones healthy in my upper body. Although I love cycling and swimming, neither of these are weight-bearing so I need to make sure I mix it up.

My scars are both healing nicely and I have regained full movement in my right arm. I do have stiffness still, so I'm continuing with the physio exercises until that goes away, but I'm really pleased with how that's going. I also have some numbness in my armpit and just below my shoulder on the outer side of my arm, and unfortunately that's permanent nerve damage. It's a bit strange but I'm sure I'll get used to it. Weirdly, I've stopped sweating in my underarm completely, and the other women in my support groups tell me this is common. Bonus!

My breast looks pretty much the same as before, and the scar is almost imperceptible. When I self-examine, however, there is a big lumpy patch right where I found the original lump, and this is scar tissue. I will have to get used to how my breasts feel again and continue to self-examine regularly (as should you!).

My fingernails and toenails didn't quite survive after chemo. I lost a few of my toenails completely, and my fingernails started to crack and peel about half way down each nail. I'm now keeping them extremely short until the new nails grow, which is kind of annoying (I don't think I realised how much I used my fingernails for everyday things before!). I'm still getting quite bad bone pain semi-regularly, but this is a side effect of Herceptin, which I will finish in June this year.

I also found out that I am ineligible for the Add-Aspirin trial which I thought I would be on, so that won't be going ahead. I am, however, still part of the 100,000 Genome project, and I've been asked to take part in a focus group at St Bart's in February, to help them improve care for younger women diagnosed with breast cancer.

There's a lot of crap on the internet about cancer prevention (turmeric, anyone?) and in actual fact there's only one 'natural remedy' that studies prove genuinely reduces the chances of the cancer coming back, and that's exercise. So now that I have a little more strength and energy, I'm slowly reintroducing exercise back into my daily routine. I want my convalescence to be slow and effective, not rushed and ineffective, so I'm trying to be gentle with myself and not push myself too hard. But I've got a FitBit and I'm getting a little obsessed with the metrics. Firstly there's the step counter, and I'm aiming for a minimum of 10,000 steps a day. I've aced it almost every day so far this year, with my best day being 29,665 steps, and my worst day only showing 8,335 because I cycled everywhere that day. My average is around 15,000. Then there's the 'active minutes' metric, ie how many minutes per day that you're doing activity that gets your heart rate up. I'm averaging 100 minutes a day this year, which I think is pretty good going. I also want to avoid reverting back to Past Carmel's ridiculously packed social schedule, as I've realised the benefits of downtime and relaxation. So I'm not over-committing, and I'm being selective about what social activities I say yes to. Tanai bought me a place on a meditation course as a Christmas present, and I went last weekend. I've never done non-guided meditation before and it was quite amazing. I'm now meditating solo every day, 20 minutes in the morning and 20 minutes in the early evening. It's possibly too soon to ascertain the benefits but I definitely feel calmer and less irritable. And of course I'm still doing yoga with the magnificent Adriene. I don't quite feel strong enough to go out to a full yoga class yet, but I've found a class in Islington which is a short walk away from our flat, which is specifically for people who have had cancer, so I'm going to try that as soon as I feel up to it.

So there we are, I'm now project managing my recovery! I'll post here whenever anything significant occurs, but not with as much regularity as before. I may also include some musings and ponderings about my mental health, cancer in general, and what I've learned from this experience. But I'm keen to try to get away from the dominance cancer has had over my life for the last year, and have other things to think and talk about. Look forward to talking with you online and IRL about that other stuff.

The end, and yet just the beginning

So today is a pretty big milestone: I had my final radiotherapy this morning, which marks the end of 'active treatment' for me. After a challenging year, I'm so pleased I've reached this day just in time for Christmas. So this is the end of the treatment the NHS give me to nuke the cancer we found in February. As far as they're concerned, there's no evidence of it remaining in my body. From now on, all the treatment I receive (and there is still a considerable amount!) is to try to stop it from coming back, rather than treating what's there.

Tomorrow I take my first Tamoxifen: the little white tablet I have to take every day for 10 years, which aims to prevent the oestrogen my body produces from latching onto and feeding any future cancer cells. I will still have Herceptin every 3 weeks until the summer, and in February I will start my monthly Zoladex injections, which shut my ovaries down (again, trying to combat that damned oestrogen!). These medications will have their own side effects, but with my hair growing back post-chemo, and my strength returning little by little, I feel confident I'll find a way to cope.

Tanai and I are planning a quiet, relaxing Christmas at home in our little flat, where we'll cook yummy food and make plans for 2018. After the year we've had, we deserve to have our fortunes change next year.

I'm sure I will be a little contemplative over the next couple of weeks, and I plan to post something here about how I'm feeling in this transitional time. While I'm coming to the end of my active treatment, I know that this is just the beginning of the rest of my life as someone with a cancer diagnosis. I will have to navigate life in a new way, live with the knowledge that my body has changed, and will continue to be affected by my medication, and to learn how to deal with the fear of recurrence. In the meantime I plan to rest lots (I'm so exhausted after the last 10 months!), practice self-care, and slowly increase my exercise and social life again. Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life, and it's time to carpe the crap out of the diem!

Radiotherapy begins

I've now had 4 sessions of radiotherapy, and I have 15 more to go until I'm finished. It's going well so far. Each weekday morning I head into St Bart's and go to the basement, where the radiotherapy suites are located. Radiotherapy is often administered in hospital basements as the rooms have to be lined with lead to prevent the radiation from escaping. I have all 19 of my appointments (bar one) scheduled for either 8.45 or 9.00 in the morning, so that I can head off to work afterwards. There are five radiotherapy machines, and each is named after a planet. So far I have been treated on Saturn and Venus, and I also have treatments scheduled on Mars. The radiotherapy team are all extremely friendly, and the atmosphere in the department is one of jovial calm.

Treatment takes only a brief time, around 3-5 minutes, but the pre-amble makes it take a little longer. Basically I have to remove my clothes from the waist upwards, and lie on a plinth with my arms resting in armrests above my head. They use the tattoo dots on my body to line me up with some green lasers, according to the precise measurements they took at my planning appointment. They usually move me around a bit (I've been instructed to not help them, they need to move me sometimes by very small amounts) and they talk over the top of me, using numbers and codes and things that I don't understand, and they draw all over me with pen. It's very lovely though, at my first appointment they explained that they would need to talk over me while they were getting me in position, and that I shouldn't worry. They then leave the room and the robot-like machine blasts my boob with radiation, moves a bit, blasts it again from a different angle, and then I'm done. While it's doing its thing, I gaze at the ceiling, where there is a lovely artwork in the ceiling tiles, to distract me. On Saturn it's a Japanese cherry blossom tree and on Venus it's a fern-lined pool of water.

I can't feel the radiation, or see it, so it basically feels as though nothing is happening. Afterwards I have to apply thick cream to my whole breast, which I have to apply again at night. This is because one of the side effects can be something similar to sunburn on the skin where the radiation is targeting. I have aloe vera, which I'm keeping in the fridge so it's extra soothing, cetraben, and a cream called 'moo goo udder cream' which started out as a cream to treat sore udders on cows! Well, let's face it, this is basically the same thing! So far, it's felt a little sore but nothing too dramatic. The other main side effect is fatigue, but I'm feeling that already, so nothing new there. I'm resting in the evenings, making very few arrangements, and preserving as much energy as possible. Apparently the fatigue will be cumulative, so I'm expecting it to kick in properly in the next week or so. And it will last for a couple of months post-radiotherapy, so I'm keeping a low profile until the spring.

Generally though, I'm feeling much better than when I last posted. I've regained lots of my movement in my arm, I think the infection in my wound has pretty much cleared up, and I'm regaining strength each day. I'm enjoying being busy at work and getting back into things, and having more strength to do things around the home. This past weekend we had two of Tanai's friends over for dinner, visiting from Zurich and Milan. I was very pleased that my right arm was strong enough for me to bake a cake (folding in the egg whites took quite a bit of work, and I have not had the strength to do this since surgery). It was a flourless chocolate cake from the new Ottolenghi 'Sweet' book, layered with rosewater cream and caramelised walnuts. Delicious! We also went out with them for brunch near King's Cross the following morning, before they set off to the airport, which was really lovely. The autumn days here in London are blue-skied and sunny, but there's a chill in the air, and the temperature has not ventured above 10 degrees for some time.

Delicious cake!

A stroll near St Paul's Cathedral in the autumn sun

Brunch with the Italians

This coming weekend, we are planning to put up the Christmas decorations and make the flat all festive. I'm really looking forward to a very quiet, relaxed Christmas in our little flat, as I recover from my year of treatment.