Last chemo.....?

I had my last chemotherapy treatment on Tuesday last week (hopefully). I will go in to the hopefully bit shortly...

So many people have said to me 'Oh you must be so happy to have it out of the way'. Maybe I should be. I feel like I should be. But happy isn't how I've felt since Tuesday. I burst in to tears in the middle of town, cried all the way home, screamed and smashed some plates. Smashing plates is quite satisfying until you realise that you actually have nothing to eat off of and need to bugger about replacing them the next day. Since then, I've felt like a bloated, fat toad with horrid indigestion and heartburn and a massive round steroid face. I seem to have ballooned in weight over the last week or so and feel so puffy and uncomfortable I barely recognise myself in the mirror. I can cope with feeling ill, but looking ill and feeling fat, unfit and lethargic I really do no deal with very well.

I'm not sure Tuesday started out too well to be honest. I had to be at the hospital for 9.00am for an appointment for a scans on my bad and good boob, after finding an 'area of irregularity' in it. The letter sent to me was reminiscent of my first diagnosis and almost triggered some sort of flashback, so you can imagine my nerves were considerably on edge by the time I got to the hospital.

After an ultrasound and titty squash, good news was that the good boob was fine. Not so good news was that the tumour in my bad boob hadn't shrunk since October. After meeting with the surgeon once the scans were in, he told me that it is entirely possible that when the tumour is taken out, all they will find is dead tissue. Apparently, when cancer cells start to die, they form necrosis, or scar tissue and that's all that may be left of the bastard. However, there is no way of knowing until it's actually removed. The scans only show a mass and don't differentiate between alive or dead cells. Psychologically it's a bit of a blow - after months of feeling like absolute crap you expect to have some sort of result - indeed there still could be but once again I'm thrown in the pit of uncertainty.

After discussing the results with my oncologist, he told me that in the unlikely event of them removing the tumour and it not having responded as well as they would have liked, there may be the chance of more chemotherapy. Different drugs this time as no point giving stuff that hasn't worked already. Essentially, the chemo is to try and zap any random cancer cells that may have escaped to other areas of the body, such as the bone marrow or liver. Surgery can deal with what is in the breast - the chemo tries to destroy any floaters before they can settle and set up home.

Not the best news, but in one way a bit reassuring that they won't just cast me afloat and there is more they can do. Again, it just adds to the total uncertainty, which gradually I'm learning to deal with. I've accepted I'm never going to know when this whole process will be 'over'. It is impossible to give timescales. I don't know when I will be back at work properly or when I can have a holiday. No - I don't know when I will be 'cured'. I'll never know whether if I go in to remission, whether or not it will come back. I'll never be entirely done with treatment. I'm not sure when I will get some semblance of my former life back, if ever. But enough  - I've purged now. I feel slightly better. Maybe. I just need to avoid mirrors for the moment!

Scalpel please

I’ve managed to drag myself out of the docetaxel induced illness stupor I’ve been in for the last week to write about my visit to see my surgeon last Friday. I’ve been feeling quite useless this week having done nothing of any value apart from sleep and have the occasional hot bath so I’m hoping writing this post will at least go part way to rectifying that. Feeling useless seems to be par for the course for me at the moment, but that’s another blog post….

Anyway, last Friday I went to meet my surgeon to discuss plans for the new year. Not which festivity we’ll be at to see it in sadly, but rather which bits of my body he was looking to remove in January. The first time I met him was when I was coming round from a general anesthetic, looking like a smurf after being injected with blue dye and having five lymph nodes removed. As usual, I was the youngest in the waiting room at the breast clinic by at least 20 years. Cue stares of confusion and puzzlement, particularly when I am called in to the consultation room rather than my elderly relative walk out of it.

The reason that I have been given chemotherapy first is to try and shrink the tumour down so that it can be removed with a lumpectomy rather than a mastectomy. As I am not exactly blessed in the boob department, removing the lump without shrinking it would have left me with what could probably be described as a mangled tit. However, after lots of reading and researching, I have begun to think that a lumpectomy is not for me – rather I would just get rid of both of the buggers to try and give myself the best possible chance of not having another primary breast cancer.  ‘But that’s such a big decision and so traumatic!’ I hear you cry. Yes it is – but do you know what is more traumatic? Having breast cancer. Believe me, I know. A double mastectomy doesn’t remove the risk entirely but it certainly reduces it.

However, this isn’t an operation that NHS doctors tend to do simply on request. As my GP put it, doctors are trained to make people better – to remove bad tissue and leave the good stuff. To remove healthy tissue with no obvious reason goes against the conventional doctor’s way of thinking.

I went to see the surgeon, struggling with the unpleasant beginnings of tax side effects, almost prepared for a bit of a fight. I wanted to ask for a referral for genetic testing purely based on my age. I have no strong family history of breast cancer – my paternal grandmother possibly had it in her 80s however certainly didn’t’ die from it. My tumour also doesn't have the characteristics that can indicate a BRCA 1 gene fault – triple negative and very fast growing (grade 3). However, the simple fact is that I am 32 and I have breast cancer. That in itself is very unusual and for my own piece of mind I need to know whether it is due to a gene fault. Then I can take whatever steps are needed to reduce any further risk of another primary breast cancer or other related cancers.

However, surprisingly the surgeon agreed with everything I said and confirmed he would put me on a quick referral to genetics as the result of the testing would determine the type of surgery I have in early January. For the first time, I felt like someone in the medical profession was treating me as a younger woman with breast cancer, rather than a woman with breast cancer. If that makes any sense at all. He also told me that in dimension terms, my tumour had shrunk by almost half and that a lot of what I could feel now was probably scar tissue, formed when cancer cells die. Pow - take that you bastards!!

So to the surgery and which bits of me will be no more come January. Basically, if genetic testing shows I do have a gene fault it’ll be a double mastectomy, one at a time. I’ll have the bad one off first, with delayed reconstruction as I’ll need to have radiotherapy. Then when they come to reconstruct the bad side, they’ll also take the good one off and reconstruct that one immediately. It does mean I’ll be a one- titted wonder for six to twelve months but I can cope with that. I’m not exactly Katie Price in the boob stakes – it’s nothing that a good prosthesis and a bit of padding won’t fix. Getting naked in front of a new fella (wishful thinking here) might be a bit weird but to be honest, if one temporarily absent boob puts him off he’s not the one for me. Amright, ladies??

Anyway, if there isn’t a gene fault, but the genetics team say I am at increased risk of another primary breast cancer due to my age, the same surgery can still be done, it’s just that ‘there are a few more hoops to jump through’ as my surgeon put it. One of these being me seeing a psychologist to ensure that my fears about having breast cancer again are likely to be reduced by having a double mastectomy. No point whacking them both off if I’m still going to be panicking about it is there? However, I don’t think anything ever ensures that the fear leaves you entirely. As one woman who is now three years from her diagnosis said to me – it never goes away; it just gets easier to deal with.

I’ll also need a level two node clearance , as my sentinel node biopsy showed one node out of five removed involved. A level two clearance basically means taking all the nodes out from under your arm up to your chest. To be honest, this scares me more than the removal of my actual boob.

So basically, the outcome of my genetics referral will ultimately determine the surgery that I have. As regards the type of reconstruction, this is totally way over my head so I’m being referred to discuss this with the plastic surgeons. However, if I lose my nipples. I have decided I want roses tattooed on instead or maybe hearts. Or even the Chuckle Brothers.

I still may be able to have a lumpectomy, but if not, do I feel sad about the potential loss of my boobs? To a degree, yes. I’ll lose a part of me and probably end up with a pair of foobs with no feeling in them that someone could set fire to and I wouldn’t notice. My boobs used to be one of my favourite parts of my body – until one of them tried to kill me that is. So you could say my relationship with them is not the best right now. We’ve fallen out big time. It’ll take me a while to forgive them  - well, one of them anyway. So I won’t be too sad to see them go. But if I do have to say bye bye to my boobs or tara to my tits, I’m going to give them a good send off - a party with bubbly, cake and balloons. And guess what the theme will be.....?

October is over

Hopefully many of you will have taken the time to read the four featured posts from some brilliant women I know, all of whom are members of the Younger Breast Cancer Network.

 

October is now over (and with it 'breast cancer awareness month') but the need to hammer home the message that no one is too young to get breast cancer doesn't end when the pink washing does. You have heard from four fantastic ladies about lumps, bumps and wonky nipples and their treatment for breast cancer. If you take anything away from this (apart from how bloody brilliant these ladies are), please let it the importance of knowing your body and what is normal for you.

 

Make sure you check yourself regularly - and don't just focus on the boobies! Check your armpit areas and up to your collarbone. Take a few minutes next time you're in the shower or laid in bed. You may even want to ask someone to check for you as well  - just make sure its your other half and not some random bloke in the pub....

 

Your boobs may be squidgy, spongy or lumpy (no, these are not the long lost cousins of the seven dwarves.....) - just know what feels normal for you. Become best friends with your boobs ladies! Or 'breast' friends ......

 

Getting to know your boobs from nip to pit will help you to spot any changes. And you know from reading the stories of these four lovely ladies, this can be a variety of things including:

 

Lumpiness or thickening of the breast tissue.




Swelling in the armpit or round the collarbone (remember its not just the boobs!).




Nipple changes - both Sarah P and me had dodgy nips with our tumours - however, I could feel a lump as well, whereas Sarah couldn't. Nipples may become inverted or start to look a bit wonky. Mine started to drag inwards, with a crease through the skin (too much nip info??).


Constant pain in your breast or armpit - although we are regularly told pain isn't a sign of breast cancer, you know from reading both Laura's and Sarah M's stories that it can be.




Any dimpling or puckering of the skin.

 

More information about checking your boobs and what signs to look for can be found here.

 

Remember, if during your booby checking you find anything - ANYTHING - that concerns you or you aren't sure about see your GP as soon as possible. Do not be fobbed off and do not leave the surgery until you feel satisfied with your GP's response. Remember - no one is too young to get breast cancer and you do not need to have a family history. That said (and so I don't terrify everyone) most breast lumps and changes are not due to cancer. But, it can and does happen and the earlier it's found, the better the outcome in most cases.

 

So get tactile with those tits, handy with your hooters! One day it just might save your life.

Younger Women with breast cancer - Laura's story

Today's featured story is from Laura, aged 32:


'It was smack bang between Christmas and New Year 2013 when I started getting a dull ache in my right boob; it wasn't constant or overly painful, just annoying! But everyone gets aches and pains every now and then don't they?! I had a quick feel and couldn't feel anything sinister so just got on with things.

But the ache gradually got more frequent and intense and just two weeks later, where I had initially felt nothing, a small pea had appeared. These things come and go though I thought, must be my time of the month. Two weeks later I noticed that a lot of prominent veins had appeared on my breast in the same area; I had a feel again and what was a pea had now grown to the size of a grape.....

Now if you google breast lumps, I would say that maybe 90% of websites state that cancerous lumps are NOT painful, and that if your lump is painful, it is likely to be a cyst or a fibroadenoma (a benign lump) - nothing to worry about then maybe I thought? I'm 31 so it's not likely to be cancer now is it! I booked an appointment with my Doctor though just in case.

On the day of my appointment, the Doctor confirmed that she too could feel a lump; but she also believed that as it was painful and as I was so young, it was not likely to be anything sinister. Either way she referred me straight to my local Breast Care Clinic so I could be checked out thoroughly. My referral letter came through and I had an appointment at the clinic exactly two weeks later. In those two weeks, what had felt like a grape, now felt like a grape with a pea next to it......

I'm lucky enough to have a 'One Stop Shop' Breast Care Clinic in my area, which basically means that they do all the tests in one place, on one day. I first saw a consultant who confirmed the presence of two lumps and referred me for an ultrasound. The radiologist again confirmed the presence of two lumps and noted a swollen lymph node in my armpit. Two core biopsies and one fine needle aspiration later, I was free to go and asked to return a week later.

I won't deny, the wait was pretty torturous! But I also somehow knew what the answer was going to be and was therefore able to prepare myself. When the day finally arrived and the diagnosis was confirmed, I was basically ready to 'take it on the chin' and just get on with it! You see, despite all this, I am an eternal optimist and pretty stubborn! This was not going to stop me!

My Diagnosis? A grade 3 (fast growing) Invasive Ductal Carcinoma (the grape) next to a benign fibroadenoma (the new pea) but luckily no lymph node involvement.

Through all my subsequent treatments (which has included a lumpectomy, removal of two lymph nodes, 6 cycles of chemotherapy, and finally a double mastectomy with reconstruction as a result of a BRCA1 gene fault diagnosis) I have continued to work, dated, been to gigs, had great times with friends and met some pretty inspiring people along the way. Cancer does not have to be a death sentence, nor does it mean you have to put your life on hold! What is important is to ensure you get to know your body, be breast aware and never assume! Although I caught mine early, I could have caught it even earlier if I hadn't have been so dismissive of my body telling me things!'

Tumours and eggs

A short and sweet blog post from me today just to update on a bit of news.

Just got back from hospital and a booby ultrasound appointment. My tumour has shrunk by 5mm hurrah! Its gone from 23mm to 18mm. Not a dramatic shrinkage but I still have three more chemo sessions to go of a different drug. So lets hope it smashes the s*it out of it!!

Also, a node that I was panicking about in my opposite armpit is perfectly normal in appearance and size. Funny what makes me happy at the moment!!

In other news, I shaved off my remaining stubble to try and even it out and also so I could tape my wig on. What with the stormy weather the other day I had visions of having to chase it down the street... Anyway, I now look like a boiled egg. Just need to find me a soldier! ;-)