Moving on
Nearly at the end of radiotherapy - just two more to go, as I write this. I had a review today and I was reminded that the soreness may get worse over the next two weeks before it gets better, and given a pot of cream to help keep the area moisturised.
All good. However, the nurse I had the review with unintentionally upset me a bit. She started with "I've been reading all about you. Gosh, haven't you been through it. To get it twice..." or words to that effect. I know she really only means to be sympathetic and understanding, but when I hear a medical professional express some shock and horror at my experience, it makes it feel worse, heavier, serious, scary. I end up being the cheerful one, telling her how "other people have it worse" (her expression told me that they don't, not all of them), and that I've coped quite well with all the treatments, really. I have. I really have.
I was reading today of one of the other ladies on the Breast Cancer Care forum who started chemo at the same time as me, and is about to have her 6th and final treatment. Her PICC line got infected and she had a temp of 39 and was hospitalised. She had to have a line put in as she had real problems with getting a vein, and pain in her veins with her first treatment. Now they have to try and find a vein again, as her line has to come out. I didn't have anything that complicated happen to me. I AM one of the luckier ones.
The nurse also very seriously gave me a talking to about putting my health and watching my tiredness ahead of any work commitments. But again, I'm lucky. I have an understanding boss, a brilliant team. I'm doing the bare minimum at the moment, and working from home when I choose. I am doing my best to be sensible. And Greg is looking after me well. Tej has had to write a letter for our HR department who aren't satisfied with my boss's word or a couple of bits of evidence I have provided that I'm genuinely going through all this. So I've had to ask her to write to explain why I was absent for 8 weeks. Hospitals don't do sick notes. All she can say is that I was having chemotherapy during that time, and most people need time off. She didn't give me permission or tell me I must. Let's hope that satisfies them.
There was also a little bit of me today that feels a bit sad that I will soon be moving on to the next stages. The staff at Velindre have been so fantastic, and there is something familiar and comforting about going there every day. I no longer have to tell the receptionist my name and which machine I am on (LA 5, for the record). I just nod to her and give her a thumbs up that I've arrived. I won't be sorry not to be travelling every day, but it does feel strange to be ending this period.
So what happens next? Firstly, I was expecting to get my prescription of Letrazole today, but was told that I may not be able to start that until a month after the first Zoladex, and that was only given a week ago. So they will check that and ensure I have the prescription and a start date before the end of this week. Next Monday I have a check up with my surgeon, which I expect will end up being with one of his registrars and fairly pointless, if I am honest. But I will ask questions about ongoing follow ups. I am fairly sure that annual mammograms will only go on for 5 years, and then I'll go onto the national screening programme - i'll be 50 by then - which is every 3 years. I suspect I will be paying for additional, private scans, if that is the case, especially as this cancer was found 8 years from the first. I don't think a 3 year gap will give me any peace of mind.
My Herceptin treatment will continue. I'm still talking to Tej about where to have this. Newport? But traffic is a nightmare. Or Cwmbran? I will be a bit sad not to be having it in the Chemotherapy Day Unit at Velindre, but it is a long way to travel. Last week, the nurse asked me to hold the vial and warm it up in my hands, to make it less uncomfortable when she administered it. £1200 worth of drugs in my mitts....! They feel like friends there, too.
On the hair front, it continues to come back. Not enough yet to show the world but it won't be too much longer. It is lovely and soft and fuzzy! And my eyelashes and eyebrows continue to make a recovery.
Here's me last weekend with Sydney sitting on my lap.
All good. However, the nurse I had the review with unintentionally upset me a bit. She started with "I've been reading all about you. Gosh, haven't you been through it. To get it twice..." or words to that effect. I know she really only means to be sympathetic and understanding, but when I hear a medical professional express some shock and horror at my experience, it makes it feel worse, heavier, serious, scary. I end up being the cheerful one, telling her how "other people have it worse" (her expression told me that they don't, not all of them), and that I've coped quite well with all the treatments, really. I have. I really have.
I was reading today of one of the other ladies on the Breast Cancer Care forum who started chemo at the same time as me, and is about to have her 6th and final treatment. Her PICC line got infected and she had a temp of 39 and was hospitalised. She had to have a line put in as she had real problems with getting a vein, and pain in her veins with her first treatment. Now they have to try and find a vein again, as her line has to come out. I didn't have anything that complicated happen to me. I AM one of the luckier ones.
The nurse also very seriously gave me a talking to about putting my health and watching my tiredness ahead of any work commitments. But again, I'm lucky. I have an understanding boss, a brilliant team. I'm doing the bare minimum at the moment, and working from home when I choose. I am doing my best to be sensible. And Greg is looking after me well. Tej has had to write a letter for our HR department who aren't satisfied with my boss's word or a couple of bits of evidence I have provided that I'm genuinely going through all this. So I've had to ask her to write to explain why I was absent for 8 weeks. Hospitals don't do sick notes. All she can say is that I was having chemotherapy during that time, and most people need time off. She didn't give me permission or tell me I must. Let's hope that satisfies them.
There was also a little bit of me today that feels a bit sad that I will soon be moving on to the next stages. The staff at Velindre have been so fantastic, and there is something familiar and comforting about going there every day. I no longer have to tell the receptionist my name and which machine I am on (LA 5, for the record). I just nod to her and give her a thumbs up that I've arrived. I won't be sorry not to be travelling every day, but it does feel strange to be ending this period.
So what happens next? Firstly, I was expecting to get my prescription of Letrazole today, but was told that I may not be able to start that until a month after the first Zoladex, and that was only given a week ago. So they will check that and ensure I have the prescription and a start date before the end of this week. Next Monday I have a check up with my surgeon, which I expect will end up being with one of his registrars and fairly pointless, if I am honest. But I will ask questions about ongoing follow ups. I am fairly sure that annual mammograms will only go on for 5 years, and then I'll go onto the national screening programme - i'll be 50 by then - which is every 3 years. I suspect I will be paying for additional, private scans, if that is the case, especially as this cancer was found 8 years from the first. I don't think a 3 year gap will give me any peace of mind.
On the hair front, it continues to come back. Not enough yet to show the world but it won't be too much longer. It is lovely and soft and fuzzy! And my eyelashes and eyebrows continue to make a recovery.
Here's me last weekend with Sydney sitting on my lap.
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