Category Archives: Breast banana

We`re all doomed I tell you, doomed!

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I`ve had the past week off as annual leave. It`s just as well really because I have some further, unexpected tests and scans to get through relating to my breast cancer or breast banana as I like to refer to it.  Just when you thought etc. etc……

My book

I was due to visit a cousin in Ireland this week but another time cuz, too much on my mind at the mo`.

The holiday at home has afforded me some much-needed time to reflect on my mortality and possible demise, which may be earlier than I anticipated even a year ago although obviously I hope not.  When I was given the news that the banana may have migrated to my other breast, at first I sank into the Slough of Despond but eventually I find, my mind habituates to even bad news, the most morose of thoughts and emotions lessen and in doing so, they become more manageable and life goes on.

I have been reflecting on my life and whether I have any regrets. I have a few, but then again…..

I regret sending Fred Ryland a valentine`s card which read “Roses are red, violets are blue, cabbages stink and so do you.“  Mostly though, being of the nature that believes everything happens for a reason, I regret nothing and I remain an optimist.  I find the main problem with having an optimistic nature is that optimists really believe they can help people become better human beings and are genuinely surprised when we realise yet again and far too late in the day, we cannot.  Hey ho, I digress.

One of the things that living with banana has given me is a really chilled out attitude to the things that don`t really matter which I have discovered is almost everything. Take this morning for example, I have eaten a piece of toast and butter spread liberally with salad cream with a fried egg on top.   Accompanying this feast, I then chomped down an extremely large piece of gorgonzola cheese, two big chilli olives and a bowl of baked beans with at least a desert spoon of Lidl tomato ketchup stirred in.   To finish it all off I took my daily supply of paracetamol, mega doses of magnesium, vitamin D3, cod liver oil, devil`s claw and curcumin supplements.  I fluctuate wildly between eating healthily and not touching alcohol, to downing a bottle of wine and smoking five fags in each hand all at once.  Do I care how much I am abusing my digestive and bodily systems? Not a jot, I`m going to die anyway. Oh come on!  It`s the only thing we can be really sure of and as my sister Sue`s wife said to me the day my sister died, “I knew she was going to die, I just didn`t think it would be today.”  (“It`s a good day to die today,” Dustin Hoffman in Little Big Man.)

I don’t want a funeral. I`ve been to three recently and another one on Monday of next week. They have all been sad and that is absolutely fine of course but I don`t want sad, I want a happy affair.  The only funeral I have ever attended which was an affair involving lots of laughter and celebration was that of a dear friend and colleague Debbie Lees. Hers was a humanist funeral that really spoke of her, it was great.  So after I die, I`d like some kind death person to come and remove my body please and cremate me and may my family and friends have a big party, get drunk, take illegal substances if that is their bag and have a laugh remembering the me who I am.  And I don`t want any hymns sung, I`d rather you sang “Is that all there is?” and “Cabaret” and “You`ll never walk alone” and “The sun has got his hat on,” at the top of your voices and send my ashes off in the form of a firework. Hah!

So there you are, I don`t have anything to leave anybody, if there is one thing I learned from my Buddhist studies, it`s that material things do not matter.  I was about to write something mean and unpleasant here about clinging to wealth and belongings and about hypocrisy but my mother Bess suddenly materialised across the table from where I`m sitting and drumming her fingers on the wood, tut tutted at me and said, “Now, now Helen…..” so I won`t. She died 23 years ago and she is never far away. Thanks mum, you taught me there is a time and a place for everything and most of all you passed on to me your irreverent sense of humour which showed me how to laugh at life`s adversities.  I`ve enjoyed a lot of laughter in my life, you can`t beat it.

So, more tests over the next two weeks and the results at the end of the month, meanwhile, where did I put my baccy?

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Taking back the power.

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I`ve been feeling rather emotional this past week, a bit weepy, a bit low and not really registering why. Then it struck me this morning as I was walking with my dog, it will be a year on Wednesday since I was diagnosed with cancer, so the light bulb came on.

In my case, after my treatment had finished and the doctor spoke to me those lovely words, “you have the all clear,” for a brief, heady few days, I felt an incredible high. It didn`t last and as I gradually came back down to earth I realised that cancer never really leaves us. I have a long way to go (five years) before I can relax a little and know I am in remission and even then, it may return. I feel sad because cancer has impacted on me so massively, I have spent so much time trying to manage my feelings, remain positive, productive, engaged with the people who I love, I don`t think I`ve given myself time to mourn the loss of who I was before this diagnosis and feel the feelings of sadness and rage for how much cancer has taken from me.

Well here`s the thing cancer; I`m taking it back.

Yesterday I was reading a post my daughter had put up on social media, I think she put it up there for me to see because it was all about those people who feel selfish when they are coping with an awfulness in their life, after all, there are so many people out there who have it so much worse. This describes exactly how I feel, it`s as though surviving cancer so far somehow means I have less right to my myriad of feelings because at least I am still here to tell the tale. The piece goes on to say, “don’t buy into it, because it’s nonsense. It doesn’t matter if someone else had it ‘worse.’ Every person who experiences a trauma deserves to get the attention and care they need to heal from it.”

So I rang Macmillan Cancer Care (love, love, love them) and they told me that they are working jointly with Relate to offer people who have had cancer some free counselling sessions. You may think of Relate as working with people who have a troubled marriage (they used to be called Marriage Guidance, do you remember?) However, Relate recognises that cancer affects all of our relationships including the one we have with our self. So I`ve booked me in for some `me` time with Relate and an opportunity to work my way through some of this shitty stuff that`s stopping me from getting on with my life in the present. I am looking forward to it and to letting go of some of this negativity, it is so unlike me.

And to my friends and family who are fighting to keep their head above the waves, not waving but feeling like they are drowning. I will get back to me and then I can give you that hand up once again as so many have offered to me over this past, really difficult year.

I would like to end on a high note so here you are, it`s a  middle C.

🙂

Treat yourself with kindness…..

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It is a funny old thing cancer.  Just when you think it is safe to get back in the water – BOOM!

In spite of being given the “all clear” last August, I find myself feeling absolutely rubbish at the moment, I feel terribly dispirited and I am struggling not to burst into tears at the drop of a hat, which is exactly what I did this morning when I rang the helpline at MacMillan Cancer Care. As has been my previous experience, the woman on the other end of the line was totally wonderful and instantly “got” what I was blabbing about. I think I have tried so hard to remain positive not just for me, but also for my family and friends, that a huge build up of anxiety and miserable-ness is sitting in my head which sometimes overwhelms me. I forget how recent my diagnosis was, how challenging the journey and how raw my emotions still feel. After the all clear I think I just expected to spring back to being the old Helen, and it doesn`t work like that!  The fear of breast cancer returning lingers in the background for large chunks of my thinking time and I am told by fellow survivors that this will not leave me but it is something I can learn to manage. 

When I was going through cancer treatment, it felt like I was doing something really positive and to some extent that gave me a sense of being in control.  When my treatment finished, I experienced an anti-climax and it is partly this that makes me feel so low.

The MacMillan volunteer said that it might help me to go and get some counselling, so that is what I`m going to do. I`ve been told of a group in Solihull, near me. They are called Breast Friends (Ha ha.) I`m going to ask for some support because I deserve it, we all deserve a helping hand when the going gets tough.

Once upon a time a year ago, I was a robust, generally happy, buoyant human being. Cancer has changed me completely and as the woman at MacMillan said to me today, I am still on my journey, I am still finding my way.  So if I seem a little down, give me a hug. If I seem a bit snappy, make me a cuppa, send me a virtual smile, it will be most welcome.

Have a happy Christmas and the best of New Years, I know I am going to.

Beating the Banana.

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I decided to put all my breast cancer blogs together in one book-ette. It will be available on Kindle in the next week or so. Isn`t the cover fantastic!  Thanks to my editor/publisher, Andrew Sparke for his encouragement and support.

 

A Tale of Two Titties.

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Apparently my boobalinkas have become the subject of speculation at my local hostelry.
A couple of weeks ago a neighbour at the top of our road, passed away and as is the custom in these parts, his missis had put some money behind the bar so that his buddies could toast his heavenly departure.
I didn`t go because I don`t really like pubs and I didn`t know my neighbour, however lots of others did, including two ladies who also know me. (I use the term ladies, loosely, apparently they were absolutely lagging which is an English euphemism for pissed as farts.)  For the sake of modesty let them remain anonymous.
A third neighbour was also present at the merry goodbye and took great delight in repeating the following conversation to me…….
Neighbour 1:  I see Hel has some new boobs.
Neighbour 2:  Yes but they`re not her own, I reckon she`s got summat shoved down her bra.
Neighbour 1: They look too good to be real, I agree.
Neighbour 3:  I can assure you they are real!
Neighbours 1 & 2 jointly:   Nooooooo!
Neighbour 3:  They most definitely are all her own, the doc` gave her an uplift and I know because I`ve seen them!  She has the titties of a thirty year old and her skin is beautiful.
Like me, this lovely lady has recently recovered from breast cancer and so we have swapped many a treatment tale.  She had a lumpectomy and recently she asked if she could see my new boobs. I obliged as to be honest, so many people have seen them over the past year I no longer care who gets a gander…..
She said that neighbours` 1 and 2`s faces were an absolute picture.
Wish I`d been there with my camera.

Yes – we have no banana!

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I had some wonderful news yesterday. I went to see my surgeon Mr. Basu for a check up.  I am totally in love with him anyway and even more so now because he told me that following my breast cancer surgery, all my biopsies are clear. There`s nothing in my breast tissue, no live cancer cells in the bits of banana still remaining after chemo, and nothing in my lymph nodes.
To say I am grateful is putting it very mildly. I am grateful beyond words.
So this is my last blog on my breast banana, as I have referred to it.  I have to have a small amount of radiotherapy Mr. B says, to err on the side of caution but that is NOTHING compared to chemotherapy.  I will be fine.
Thanks to the many, many people who have supported me on my journey, who have made me laugh, held me when I cried (Tony) bought me flowers and treats far too many to mention here. People who have prayed with me and for me in their prayer circles, the friends of mine who are atheist or pagan, or agnostic or of completely different faiths, thank you for your good wishes, positive vibes and many, many messages of support.
It carried me through and I will never forget it or any of you.
With all my love.
Perky Pitt.  🙂

Keep breathing as long as you can!

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If you have been following my posts then I hope you will be pleased to hear that last Thursday I went to have surgery for the removal of any remaining breast banana and a reduction in both breasts for the purpose of symmetry. I was very excited. The first procedure I went through was actually the day before, when I had an injection of isotope which preceded my scan. It didn`t hurt at all, it didn`t even sting, the nurse just made me radioactive. The next day I arrived at the hospital with my lovely daughter by my side, bright and breezy, ready for the operation.

The next part of the proceedings is called a wire insertion. A very thin piece of wire, a bit like fuse wire, was placed inside my breast under a local anaesthetic with the purpose of assisting the surgeon. It guides he or she in what shape they need to be making with their scalpel when they are taking bits of you away. Ultimately it leads them to the tiny, titanium implant which is at the heart of the banana and which I had inserted way back in February. It`s all about getting the incision right. The procedure was again carried out under a local anaesthetic and although it was mildly uncomfortable, it wasn`t anything to write home about. I was then taken to the operating theatre where one of my close friends works with the anaesthetist team. This made it a very jolly experience with lots of crass jokes, micky taking and general hilarity while they fiddled about with tubes and cannulas.

The last thing I remember before dropping off was one of the doctors telling me to think of my holidays and asking me where I was going and I said, “The Maldives,” which I am not and then I was out like a light.

When I woke up in the recovery room, I was being observed by a very lovely nurse from the Filippines. She asked me if I believed in God and clearly wanted to talk about her faith which I guess you know, is generally forbidden in a hospital context but as I am a firm believer, we talked for a while and then I said to her to stop now, because if a colleague hears, you will be in trouble. I`ve had this experience of nurses wanting to talk about God a couple of times while I have been having chemo, they were both nurses from abroad so perhaps it is more acceptable in other parts of the world. One of them was so nervous she even crossed herself and prayed before administering the dreaded stuff to me which was a little disconcerting at the time.  When the Filipino nurse left me she said, “I love you,” and I replied, “I love you too!”

I wasn`t to know that while I was under the anaesthetic there had been an event and as a result, I had been in theatre for 5 hours, it should have been about 2. I have absolutely no recollection of anything at all untoward happening but apparently I had an anaphylactic reaction to some blue dye that is used in breast surgery. Very quickly after injecting me with the dye, the team noticed I was having difficulty breathing and my blood pressure plummeted. AIthough I didn`t go into cardiac arrest, my breathing was stopping and had they not swiftly pumped some adrenalin into me I certainly would have. My poor daughter went straight into panic mode as doctors rushed hither and thither past where she was waiting, trying to stabilise my blood pressure.

Afterwards I was taken to a ward to sleep off all the excitement. I remember my daughter leaving me some sandwiches and a drink and a friend telling me not to try the sandwiches too soon, she was right!  My lips were claggy and I couldn`t chew or swallow properly as my mouth was so dehydrated. I fell asleep. At 3am I woke up and ate the sandwiches, they were delicious and then I decided to go and take a look at my greatly reduced in size, new boobs. I was wowed, I still am. I haven`t looked this good since I was a young woman. The internal stitches melt after 10 days. The external skin is superglued so there will be minimum scarring, not that I care….. if the banana has vacated the premises then I haven`t got a care in the world.

At about 8am the surgeon came to see how I was doing. He said he had left no margin in the affected breast and had removed about 180 grams of tissue, hoping that he will have removed any remaining banana. About 120 was removed from the other side and they are now of more or less equal size, I am so pleased. My daughter who is an ace chef immediately said, “mother that`s about 6 and a bit tablespoons from one side and four and a bit from the other,” so I feel like someone has had their pound of flesh.

Now my nipples no longer gaze at the floor and my boobs are about half the size they were, I have become affectionately known as Perky. The operation has made it very obvious that I have a belly which needs some serious downsizing, meanwhile, I am going to keep on strolling. I am in minimum discomfort, there is some bruising but the swelling is already going down and psychologically I feel wonderful, so if you woke up breathing this morning then congratulations, you have another chance!

If you`re FEC`d off with tales of chemo then don`t read this!

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I just had numero four of my chemo treatments. The one I was on for the first three months, Taxotere, is known as “The Batterer” in the unit I attend. The nurses assured me that the final three FEC treatments would be “a walk in the park” in comparison. Taxotere certainly has a reputation and in my case, not entirely earned although it made my body ache horribly, I found it was manageable with copious amounts of Ibuprofren and the occasional gin.

FEC is so different, I don`t think there is anything to be gained by making comparisons. For the first four days FEC absolutely floored me, I have felt so weak I could hardly get up the stairs to go to the loo and yet here I am on day five, I`ve been to the park on this beautiful morning and walked my dog oh joy and feel a gazillion times better. I consider myself very lucky as many people have horrendous side effects with FEC, the most severe one being chronic sickness and ulcers in the mouth and gullet. So hurrah but by golly I shall be glad when it`s all over! My nails are weird, ridged and peeling but not yet blue as some people`s nails become.

Yesterday I felt very low, in my depressed state I decided that I wasn`t going to have any more chemo, enough is enough and it simply isn`t worth it, the quality of my life is so different in comparison to the robust human being I was at the beginning of the year, why prolong the agony? FEC it! I shall have the surgery and takes me chances.

This morning though, feeling better and after a really good sleep (I am sleeping incredibly well, it`s very odd) I see it all a bit differently and rearranging my thoughts, I will of course optimise my chances of remaining well in the long term by completing my chemo course. Chemo I find is a bit like childbirth (sorry men, it`s the best comparison for me) and once you begin to feel better your body has a marvellous way of placing it all aside and filing it away under “rather challenging experiences it may be prudent to forget.”

And that`s my continuing message to anyone undergoing chemo. You will get through it, and once through it you can crack on with your life.

So take heart, stay positive, if you feel as rubbish as I did yesterday then I promise you it will pass.  Try and say so and ask people for a bit of help. My friend Annie called to see me yesterday and chatted to me for an hour and that was so lovely and made a difference. If you are facing chemo on your own then in the UK you can always ring the MacMillan nurses and they are ACE!

And by the way…….. JOG ON CANCER!!!

Four down and two to go! 🙂

 

Half way through my chemo!

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In previous blogs I have referred to my breast cancer as breast banana in order to disempower it.  Well it seems to be working as I had an examination the other day and after just two months of Taxotere (otherwise known in the UK as Docetaxel) the only bit of the smaller banana that the doc` could feel was the titanium marker and the other banana has shrunk a lot and is now soft to the touch, which is GREAT and what the doc was hoping for.  She said she was hoping to cure me and I told her I like that word. Cure, what a great word!

So – that`s the first three months done and dusted thank you very much!  Taxotere is pretty aggressive on the old white cells and also affects your red blood cells to an extent and can make some people feel really tired and a bit short of breath. The good news is that like me, many of us have a very good tolerance of Taxotere and experience few and quite mild side effects which I have discussed in an earlier blog.  Also, the body is so amazing at adjusting to chemotherapy, that after about 10 days, I certainly feel much more like me and by then of course it`s nearly time to see the doc` about the next treatment. Ho hum.

For me the worst aspect of banana therapy this far has been an injection of a drug called Neulasta which isn`t actually chemotherapy, but is given after Taxotere and some other treatments in order to boost the white blood cells. The main side effect of Neulasta for many people is bone ache and there is no prettying it up, it`s bloody horrible and I have to take a lot of pain killer, usually Ibuprofen or Co-codemol in order to manage it.  It lasts for about five days.  Many people on chemo also suffer from MAJOR constipation after a treatment, again very common and easily remedied with Senacot or Movocol. This lasts for two or three days. No-one should put up with being uncomfortable and I speak to my pharmacist at Lloyds Chemist if I`m worried.  He is great.  I can never get hold of my consultant, I`ve only met him once and I see his registrar she is lovely and very reassuring.  My next three treatments are called FEC T, and I will no longer need the injection so hopefully it`ll be a bit easier from then on. We shall see, everyone`s chemotherapy journey is different.

The doc` says I can go back to work from May onwards as my immunity will be on the up, she has no problem with this.  As my contract with my current employer finishes in April, I am on the lookout. I get bored so easily at home and being at home gives me far too much time to Google which is never a terribly good idea when you`re feeling low.  All offers of work gratefully received! Of course I still have a journey ahead of me, a bit of surgery, maybe some radiotherapy, hormone tablets for several years…. but I remain optimistic with the occasional bad day which is to be expected. People always say, “Stay strong!” or “Keep positive!” but it ain`t always so easy when you`re on the receiving end.  Sometimes you just need a good blart.

To fill my time I have been finishing a small book about an intriguing man I once knew. I have found a publisher which is rather serendipity and he is going to get it up on Kindle for me so I am VERY excited. I won`t make any money to speak of however, it isn`t about money so watch this space as I am very nearly at the conclusion. I won`t put any spoilers here……. you will just have to wait!

Meanwhile, I continue to receive requests for bald impersonations which I put up on Facebook. So far I have done, Sigourney Weaver playing Ellen Ripley in Aliens, Sinead O`Connor with some new words for Nothing Compares to Chemo and Walter White out of Breaking Bad.

This weekend I`m doing Kurtz from Apocalypse now……..

Have a great weekend, it`s a beautiful day!   🙂

 

 

 

 

One down, five to go…..

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Eleven days after my first chemotherapy treatment, thank the Lord life is pretty much on track again. The first week was absolutely horrible as anyone who has undergone chemo will most likely tell you.  Actually, I have discovered that some people positively relish telling you the most unpleasant bits you may have to look forward to. Ghoul like drool slathers down their chins as they describe the various toxic side effects of chemo while they check out your reaction.  My take is that they were probably already toxic, hah! Anyways, clear off down yer own end ghoul face.  Then you also meet the sad survivors who gaze at you, doe eyes gathering sparkly tears in the corners as they whisper quietly in mournful tones…..  “it`s your journey Helen and only you can travel the path….”  Yes well bugger off if you don`t mind sad person, jog on.

So far my path hasn`t been that bad. The worst things to put up with have been aching joints (nothing a good dose of co-codamol can`t deal with) and itchy skin. I asked my local chemist what would be the best treatment for my itchy skin and he said E45, so I asked him why and he said, “because it`s really cheap!”  He`s not wrong and although it took 2 or 3 days to work, to my huge delight it does.  Hurrah.  It`s a case of trial and error and I realised quite early on that I don`t have to lie on the sofa all day feeling miserable, there is an antidote to almost any discomfort.  Talking of lying on the sofa, the house I live in is old and large and draughty so most afternoons I wrap myself up in a rather nice teal velvet throw to get warm and have a doze, my head poking out at the top.  My little dog Alfie lies beside me like a small, hairy hot water bottle. The other day this harmless action led to Mr. Inman (who I share the house with) entering the sitting room with a nice cup of coffee for me.  His greeting?  “Hello my little blue maggot, how are you today?”  It`s a good job I don`t offend easily.

My taste buds have altered, I can no longer drink tea which is very odd as I have been an avid tea belly all my life. Like a pregnant woman I long for porridge and cereal (weird) I chuck gallons of water down my neck every day, I want rice, plain rice and soy sauce. I`m being led by my body and I`m losing weight. I can`t eat any processed food at the moment as the result is raging indigestion and I eat a little white meat and plain fish from time to time. My favourite thing to slurp is gluten free, organic lentil soup which I found in Sainsburys.  It`s called Amy`s Kitchen soup.  It`s delicious and I could live on it, I practically am and by the way, the next person who calls me Helen Longfork runs a serious risk of being head butted.  (Joke!)

So all in all, may this manageability continue with my second treatment which is due on March 11th. A few days` blissful respite before the next bit but bring it on! I really mean that, no honestly I do!   🙂