A Giggle For A Fumble!

A Giggle for a Fumble!

I thought I'd hit on something that would make my millions! Because of my perforated eardrum I needed to keep water out of my ear. I considered how to do this. Cotton wool? Nah, it would get soggy. I needed to cover my ear somehow. Plastic bag? Rain hat? Shower cap? Ah, shower cap. A mini sized shower cap for my ear! That would work. That's it, my idea will help water phobic ear people and make millions for me! £££££ Cha-ching! Very wisely I decided to check on Amazon to see if anything similar existed. Uh oh. There they were, the exact same thing I had invented. My imaginary millions flew out of the window and floated away. Oh well. I'd better buy some then. Next day they arrive and I shower happily without the need to put my head to one side and quickly flick away the water. They work very efficiently. Only problem is they are hysterical to look at! Lee and I have tears rolling down our faces. I look so silly!


So I am sharing this daft vision with you, but I want something in return, I want you to ask five people to have a good old feel of their boobs. Ask them all to tell five people too. Men as well, they can get BC also. Please have a fumble of your own boobs too. You never know between us all we could save someone's life. Finding a lump early can save your life. Sure it may mean a bit of a shit time for a while, but better that than death forever! There's no death for a little bit. Seriously find it early and stats are 97% survival. Get fumbling!!! Five friends for fumbling!!!!

Hopefully I've given you a giggle in return for a fumble!

Whinge, moan, whinge

I've been quiet for a while. I haven't had any enthusiasm for writing and sharing my thoughts. Which is not like me. Everything kind of got on top of me and I lost my oomph!

I haven't even wanted to go on Facebook, couldn't be bothered.  So my apologies for all the birthdays I've missed and any exciting/important posts that I haven't paid any attention to!  I've been far too wrapped up in my own doom and gloom to give two hoots about anyone else!!!!!

Soz!

What follows is a catch up, a bit more me, me, me, because that's what my blog is all about anyway!  So here we go.....

I'm so incredibly fed up of the whole cancer thing, it's now become tedious and boring and I'd really like it to all be over. Self indulgent moaning I'm afraid.  The good news is that my 12 month post diagnosis mammogram showed no evidence of anything nasty, which is excellent.  My 12 month post surgery check found that I've got lymphoedema (swelling and shit) in my boob.  Normally if you're going to get it, you get it in your arm, but no, it's in my boob!  Basically the lymph system stops working because of having lymph nodes removed, Chemo and surgery.  They have offered me treatment but it's held in the local hospice!! It's the only place they do it. Well I just can't bring myself to go there, so I'm going to sort it myself.  Amazon Prime to the rescue with brushes, tape, creams and YouTube for Yoga videos.  This is added to my whinge list because I really don't want anything else to have to sort out.  Also added to the whinge list is that I found an odd patch of skin, which the consultant said is eczema, and I'm sure it is, so I need to apply some steroid cream. (Not had eczema since I was 12!).  If it doesn't go away they will do a biopsy.  Here we go with that "be aware of symptoms, but don't think it always means cancer", seesaw to balance.  I've been assured that you get used to that and it becomes easier. Whinge.

I have 5 more Herceptin injections to go, out of a total of 18, so I'm nearly at the end. I've just invested in a selection of lavender/wheat heat packs in varying shapes and sizes to help with the bone and muscle pains. If I strap them all on at once I could do a fairly good American Football player impersonation!  I've given into this as my willpower for ignoring the pain has got up and left the building.  My energy levels have recinded back to about 30%, which brings me to the Spoon Theory,  which I found out about from my lovely sister- in-law Jackie Bex.  See the attached photo. I have an allotment of energy spoons per day so I have to choose which things to do carefully or I go into negative spoons. The Spoon Theory is brilliant and describes exactly what the energy thing is about.  I didn't understand it pre-diagnosis, but now I so do!

For a bit of positivity.....my hair is growing (albeit slowly thanks to Herceptin, whoops fell off the positive wagon there!).  I have even dyed it, just a semi permanent, as I didn't want to damage what little I've got!  The dye has sort of blended my grey and mouse, so it looks a bit better.  I may have to have it trimmed soon, to tidy up the wayward bits.

So that's me all updated. I am fed-up of fed-upi-ville at the moment, but I am eternally grateful for being able to be fed-up.  I've not lost sight of what could have been.

Little Victories

From 13th March 2016

Little Victories

Saw the Oncologist last week. Had the results of my Cancer Markers blood test, which were in normal range for both recurrence and spread elsewhere. This will be tested again over the years, if my levels rise it may be a hint that something is going on. I feel it is a little victory. On the downside my stiffness, swelling and pain will last until the Herceptin stops in September, or until the Hormone treatment stops in 5 years time, as they can't tell which is causing the side effects! I can hack it. The little victories are worth it!

My hair is growing apace and sticking up all over the place if I don't tame it after washing. My eyelashes are back to full length and my nails are finally, finally, starting to appear. I only have one long enough for a bit of a scratch, but it's a good scratch! All are small victories.

Got my first year mammogram next month which will set my mind at rest, I have a few lumps for it to have a look at, but I know they are innocent. Getting a good result from that will be another small victory.

Small victories all add up to that one big victory.

Hair Growth

From 24/1/16  -    Hair Growth

7 Jan 2016 - 11 weeks after last chemo

15 Jan 2016 - 12 weeks after last chemo

24 Jan 2016 - 3 months after last chemo

Be careful what you wish for....

Tomorrow is two thousand and sixteen
Changes are ahead of which I'm very keen
My body is becoming chemical free
Which means a more normal furry me
Oh yes, my hair is slowly returning!
It's a state I have been yearning
I've now got tiny little eye lashes
My brows are rows of dots and dashes
Once naked nostrils are no longer bare
The covering on my head is soft and fair
Actually it's soft and grey
But grey is cool now so they say
The colour doesn't matter to me
I just look forward to being wig free
It's not yet quite long enough
For my head to be in the buff
So slowly grows all the hair I want to see
Speed up please I'm impatient me
For the place that is growing so very fast
Is not on my head or lashes, they are last
It is my legs, yes my legs have lots of hair
It's some kind of retribution I could swear!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!! xx

Doing Daft Things for Cancer Research

Oh my! My rather gorgeous nephew Samuel Wilson is doing some fundraising. He is doing mad stuff and you can watch it online (don't ask me how, I'm over 35). He is doing this in memory of his Grandad and to support me!! Am rather overwhelmed by this. So good people, please support and donate if you wish. It's for Cancer Research!

 https://www.justgiving.com/SoItsMaestro/

A Welcome Side Effect Would Be....

I've never been a skinny shape
When 7 stone there was no gape
Around my thighs jeans stretched tight
Against the wobble there was always a fight
I yearned to have long lean pins
Managed only half decent short shins
The trauma and worry of a big fat bum
For a seventies teenager was no real fun
Not conforming to a skinny size
My bum and hips I tried to disguise
My one saving grace
Was my tiny young waist
But straight up and down I did not go
Curves in those days a big no no
A tendency to spread was the norm
Child bearing hips always the form
If only Kardashians were popular back then
On the Bo Derek scale I would have been Ten
But that's how it is, just the same for us all
The more we want skinny, the fatter we fall
Age increases size, weight keeps track
But it's not so bad just look at my rack!
My bosom happily detracts the eye
With a whimper and sometimes a sigh
From looking at my rolling spare tyre
I can't deceive, my belt's not a liar
There is no excuse, I'm aware of that
I could eat less, do more and not get fat
But wait what's this? At last there's a chance!
A bad ass illness could just be the lance
To burst fat's hold on my wobbling bits
And lighten the load on my so heavy tits
My boobs big and bouncy have attracted a fight
The way I see it with a glimmer of light
It's bad, mad and wrong to look with such glee
At what side effects might just do for me
But if I go through a real rough time
At least the scales could come under nine?
I really am looking at this in a positive way
Onwards and upwards to a skinnier day.
The treatment is tough and there's no guarantee
I may win, I may lose, we sit wait and see
But my fingers are crossed I might get thin
With everything else surely this I can win?


What? Wait, I'm not sure I hear what you're saying?
I'm going to have to start seriously praying?
No don't bring me down it can't be true
The opposite can happen? Who can I sue?
You're telling me I will soon start to crave
Foods full of comfort, they'll all be my fave
Too tired to chew?
Pop a sweetie or two
No energy to crunch?
Have a soft carb lunch
Tummy won't do digestion?
Sugary drink's a suggestion
Taste buds receded?
Bread freshly so kneaded
A mouth so dry you can't swallow?
Fresh sorbet with ice cream to follow
Those meds and steroids are messing my brain
My reason and logic is starting to drain
They definitely told me some people lose weight
So why is Humpty Dumpty my inevitable fate?

From all the side effects, one may just have been
A nice new look, trim slim and so lean
But it's not going to happen, I will have to agree
Easy popping carbs offer comfort for me
A quick energy fix is first and foremost
So vital to help the counting cells boast
I simply can't worry about things expanding
There's time ahead to be more demanding
Day by day I'll eat what is right for me
And adjust my clothes to easy and free
But honestly, really, why couldn't it be?
That Chemo slimmed down podgy old me?

Going Public

We are a strange lot us human beings. Thankfully we are programmed quite strongly to help each other with survival. However underneath that we have multi faceted layers of complicated feelings, worries and anxieties. So many what if's, I'm not sure’s and what will they think’s? We are all going to react to major circumstances in our lives in many varied ways. These reactions may serve us well or they may result in more devastating problems. We just don't know. All we can do is go with the reaction that feels right for us. Only time will give us the clarity of hindsight. During my current progress through the web of illness recovery, I have discovered that we are all a little fond, myself included, of a subtle criticism of the way people deal with their illness. I understand this is a basic human response, as we want to validate our own choice of action as being the right one. The problem I have found with this, is that while it helps to strengthen your own resolve, it fairly well decimates the person you are criticising. I have chosen to go all out and tell everyone everything. Others tell no one but their closest loved ones. There is a whole range of individual and unique reactions, from those who go over the top and leap on the "Illness" train, with a need for attention that makes you cringe, to those that stay so quiet, sheltered and reserved that they become resentful that no one understands what they are going through, because no one knows. It is such a difficult balance between dignity and ignominy. That balance will only be chosen by the person viewing you. You have no control over the way they see you. We may feel so passionately that someone is making such a wrong choice in their life and feel there is nothing ahead for them but impending doom. We may have tried to explain this to them, yet they dismiss our concerns and assure us they know what they are doing. Hopefully what we do is sit by, watch and be ready to pick up any pieces should the worse happen, without ever saying those awful words "told you so". But if we end up wrong and everything goes right, can we say "I'm sorry, I was wrong". I'm not sure we can! Everyone has valid good reasons for behaving how they do, even if they can't elucidate why, it just feels the right thing to do. When I was first diagnosed, I took some time to decide how to deal with it. There is so much to consider apart from all the medical facts and the practical problems, but the biggest worry is other people. It is so easy to upset them. I know that sounds mad and should be the last thing you worry about, but for me it was one of the first things. I had to somehow balance my feelings and needs with theirs. I've always been happy in my own company but I do love knowing I have the support of my family and friends, without that I'd feel very isolated. I don't want to be mobbed by people, that would drive me nuts, but I am very very fortunate in knowing I could turn to any of them and say "help". That means the world to me. So my decision to go public about my breast cancer was, of course, multi faceted. Firstly laziness came into it. Trying to keep everyone updated was going to be much easier done all in one place! Secondly, I hate awkwardness, I dreaded meeting someone and having one of those conversations where we dart around the subject that no one will broach, yuck. I'm much happier when someone says "how are you?" and I reply "shit" and we move on. Love it. My next reason was one I am very passionate about and it's now become a clichéd word "Awareness". I feel compelled to tell people to check their boobs. Following on from that is my need to help others, whether they are diagnosed or are supporting loved ones. To me knowledge and understanding are so important. Sharing a recovery journey is one of the most important coping mechanisms for me. Hearing that someone has a similar side effect, reduces your anxiety levels. Comfort in numbers. Lastly I love writing, always have done. I have that need to be creative and lying in bed tapping my keyboard gives me such a wonderful release. I did try crochet (which I love) but it was too much physical effort! In truth I would be stifled without this wordy therapy.

I'm aware that I sound like I'm justifying my actions and that's not what I want this to be about. I want us all to be aware that other people's choices are just that, other people's choices. We must try hard not to take slight or be hurt by them. We must put our feelings second to those of our friend or loved one and do our best to support them through their choice. It's a big ask I know. Because underneath it all, we just love to be a little bit bitchy, don't we?!!

So read it, don't read it, criticise me, praise me, share my words, delete my words, understand me, ignore me. It's your choice and I respect it. I'm just happy doing my thing and very much hope that by doing that no one feels I am criticising them!

Complicated darn world!!

Best quote of the week

Best quote of the week came about like this...I'd had a fairly tough week.  I was sat on the loo feeling very very very sorry for myself, tears were dripping down my face, my nose was snuffly, I was muttering away about how horrid everything was, my darling Hubbie was sat beside me stroking my bald head, comforting me with his presence when he says this...."You have a beautiful cranium".   Tears instantly turned to giggles!! Xx

Bald Showers Are No Fun

Bald showers are simply no fun
With no hair there's nowt to be done!
Ten minutes each morning I would spend
Washing and rinsing hair root to end
Lathering, rinsing, massaging with froth
The water completely carried me off
It took me to a island paradise dream
With waterfalls crisp and sparkly clean
The sun envelopes me with a healing glow
I add conditioner to the smooth liquid flow
I feel the suds slide down my back
Of joy and glee there is no lack
The sparkling water splashes through my hair
I'm enraptured by the sense of clean fresh air
No longer a razor called Venus have I
Its a real life sponge I drape up my thigh
Removing hair in a turquoise sea so blue
Much better than stubble flicked into the loo

A ten minute morning adventure
From real life a moment of censure

But no longer can I enjoy such bliss
With no hair its simply all amiss
Five minutes is all it will take
No exotic island tour to make
I now have no reason to drift far away
There's no tresses to wash at the start of my day
No more depilation
To aid relaxation
I get in wash my bod and I'm all done
That's why bald showers are no damn fun!

My boss left his job this week and I sobbed my heart out.

My boss left his job this week and I sobbed my heart out.

Not because he left, but because when I said goodbye I shed a tear, then without warning the floodgates opened. I became a blubbering sobbing mess.

I returned home from his leaving do and fell into the arms of my bewildered husband, heaving, gasping, muttering nonsense, tears streaming down my face. "What's wrong?" Asked my husband, holding his arms tightly around me whilst trying to look me up and down to inspect for any signs of outward damage. Talking in the gulp, gulp, grab breath, one word, gulp, parlance of a bereft sobbing woman, I tried to explain "I," gulp, gulp,"feel", big breath, more tears, "so sad". Floods of shoulder shaking tears. My body gives up, being upright can only be supported by my husband. He moves me to the sofa and we sit. I'm wrapped up in his love. He wipes the tears from my face with his fingers "Oh Sweetie, what's happened, why are you so sad?".

"I just don't want to be doing this". There I've said it. My bravery, my stoical resolution, my smile no matter what, my Dunkirk Spirit, my inspirational status, has all come crashing down. It's hit the floor with a resounding smash like a redundant chimney tower being demolished.

I had gone out that evening for the first time, for a normal night out with friends, since my diagnosis. It was also the first evening out with my new "1920's Hollywood" look, A.K.A. a headscarf, dangly earrings and a bit more slap. I felt fine, I was looking forward to the copious giggles that I knew would occur with my workmates. I have always been very lucky with the people I have worked with, laughter and bad taste jokes have always been in plentiful supply, whichever Company I've worked for.

So there I was in the pub with my lovely friends, being normal. Except it wasn't normal. I'd joined everyone a couple of hours after the start, as I'd been home for a sleep. I wasn't drinking, I am allowed to, but I'm keeping it very limited. I wasn't having a meal because I need to keep the risk of infection to a minimum. I had no hair, but instead a headscarf on my head.

Whilst I sat there enveloped by the warm companionship of my friends, it was different. I was viewing everything around me with suspicion. The sauce bottles and menus had congealed liquid over them, the table had sticky patches on it, the woman on the next table coughed, the plates did not look clean, my friends meal looked undercooked, there was a used tissue on the floor. Oh my God, I had turned into Miles from Frasier! I've already got hand gel in my bag. It was like I was a newborn babe being taken out into the world for the first time. You wrap an imaginary bubble of protection around that baby and by staring hard at people you can will them not to breathe over your precious bundle. But I had to do my own staring and willing. I felt apart somehow, the gooseberry on someone else's date. My levels of self protection were at Defcon 1. I couldn't stop wondering how many dirty hands had touched my glass and straw. Dear God, paranoia? But no, this had been drummed into me, be careful. I have a low immune system, no way of battling infection. I take my temperature three times a day everyday, if it rises it could be a sign of infection and off to hospital I would need to go.

This was not a normal night out.

Then my headscarf came undone. My poise and perfected elegance unravelled. I dashed to the loo with the same fear as if the arse in my trousers had split. The underneath of you does not get exposed. The veneer of clothes and accessories should remain intact. As I re-tied my scarf my hands were shaking. This was not good. This should not happen. This was upsetting. How odd. I knew that the pre-diagnosis me would not have bothered to re-tie it and slung it down on the table with a "Sod it". But suddenly I felt vulnerable.

I looked at myself in the mirror, my face more heavily made up to balance the loss of hair. Was that me? Am I still there? I felt like a drag queen without his wig.

Deep breath taken, scarf sorted, I rejoin my lovely friends for some more laughter. Then it's time to say goodbye to my boss for the very last time. I feel a lump in my throat, a tear starts to roll, oh no, am I really going to blub? It's on its way, I try a breath and a gulp, it's no good, I spurt out "I have to go home now". I scuttle away. Rushing towards the door the tears are streaming down my face, just get outside is all I can think, then my headscarf comes undone again, I sob.

I'm outside, I get in my car and swear at myself. Stupid stupid cow. What the f**k is wrong with you?

I get home and collapse into my husbands ever strong, ever calming arms.

I go to sleep still gently sobbing. I wake up to find I'm in the same state, tears start to trickle. A nice cup of tea might fix this. Oh my Lord, I'm off again. Where the hell has all this emotion come from? I consider myself a strong and capable woman, like everyone I've dealt with lots of shit over the years and come through it still smiling, but today I need help. Today is not a day to be brave and stoical. Today I give in. I text a friend who is nearby, brief details that I've had a major meltdown. She prescribes an afternoon of chocolate and cake and she will bring supplies.

She arrives on the doorstep, we look at each other and instantly cry. We dissect my feelings. We cry some more. More tea, more chocolate, more dawning realisation. I'd reached that moment. It was my time to crash and burn.

My friend dug all these feelings gently out of my soul. I could not understand why I was sobbing, was I really that upset about my boss leaving? It turned out to be the catalyst that unleashed my built up anxieties.

Without friends like this our world would not be as rich. I am lucky in that I know I could have dropped my blubbering self on any of my friends doorsteps and they would have all scooped me up. A true mate is one that you can cry in front of with no make up on, unwashed, unkempt but not unloved. I am blessed.

I am so glad I wasn't afraid to ask for that proverbial shoulder to cry on.

It helps. Big time.

Fortunately my brain and my tear producing hormones have now written a peace treaty. The dust from my collapsed chimney tower has settled. I will expect to feel like that again at some point. This is surely what normal is. Otherwise to be a in constant state of controlled vigilance, guarding against raw emotional fears, cannot be healthy and can only lead to years of suppressed resentment. I'm not going to do that. I'm here, this is me, life at times is shit, but for the majority of time, life is a gossipy giggle with real good friends.

As well as remembering to tie double knots in my scarves, I'm now back to being irreverent, rude, rebellious and a little bit naughty. Because being good all the time isn't normal either!!!!

Kisses to MK xx

Head Shaving Day

This is a hard hitting photograph. I make no apologies for it. I am aware that its unflattering, shows my double chin, not glamorous, blah blah blah, but it depicts a pivotal moment, I now look like I have cancer, I now have a universally recognised badge, whether I want it or not.

However my real reason for showing this photo is that it is a perfect capture of that exquisite moment of pain which results in total relief. A bit like ripping off an irritating plaster, you know it will hurt, but it will be worth it. If you wondered why Breast Cancer Club members shave their heads, not only is it to stop hair falling out all over the place, it is to prevent the pain. For me the pain can be described as each hair having turned into a bristle, think scrubbing brush, each bristle was buried an inch deep into my scalp and whenever my hair moved or was touched, it hurt. Serious hurt. This is because the hair follicles die. My darling husband was prepared to shave my head. His emotions were more fraught than mine, I was eliminating pain, he was eliminating a part of his wife's femininity, he had already seen my breast be altered to a less rounded shape and now it was down to him to remove the hair that he enjoyed running his fingers though or sweeping to one side so he could kiss my neck. What a strong man he is to be able to get those clippers out and remove the last of his wife's hair. Which he did. You see him doing so in this photo. You can see pain in my face, but it was temporary, as soon as the hair was shaved off, the pain was gone. This very emotive picture was taken by my talented son Stuart Murray. This was not easy for him either. Documenting your mother's journey through cancer is not something you ever think will happen to you. He was concerned about showing the photo to me, but he knew he had caught a captivating moment. I think so too.

My Hair is Falling Out

My hair is falling out

I would really like to clout
The person who decided
My follicles would be divided
Between my pillow and the drain
And why does it involve such pain?

No more elegant flicking and curling of hair
No running fingers through tresses with flare
To do such things makes my scalp so ache
And increases the need for hair that’s fake

So as I approach coiffure by Mitchell Bros
My head will soon shine, but who gives a toss
I’ve wigs and scarves and hats to please
I’ll rock the bald, I know I can tease

So here’s to styling all a new
Let’s hope I won’t need any glue