This blog is completely out of chronological order. It is a letter I wrote to get the feelings I had about being diagnosed with cancer again AND to deal with the initial, very obvious pessimism of my Oncologist.
So many of you are saying such lovely things to me. I appreciate every single comment. I am positive, I am hopeful and I have faith in the support, love, prayer and help you are all giving me. I have down times, times when I am absolutely terrified, I wrote this letter during one of those times. It was a way of me getting those fears out.
I wasn't going to post it, but Tim said it's important that if I'm going to blog, I blog all sides of this journey.
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Written on Wednesday 6th October 2011
My lovely babies, Harry, Betty and Freddy,
Tomorrow it all begins properly. For real. And I am so scared.
I am scared that chemo won't do it. What if Dr Lee is right and I am just trying to fool myself into believing I can beat this, when in reality, it has already beaten me and I just refuse to admit it? This is a reality I do not even want to contemplate. I am so frightened.
I MUST BEAT THIS. I MUST.
My beautiful babies. This is so unfair on you. You shouldn't have to deal with this.
Little Freddy, my beautiful baby man, so amazingly little and cute and full of love and hope. How can I ever let you down in such an awful and destructive way?
Betty, my gorgeous, clever, amazing daughter. I need to be here for you. I need to be here to hold your hand and dry your tears when your heart is broken. I don't want to be the one who breaks it by leaving you too soon.
And Harry, such a wonderful, clever, thoughtful boy. I know that even though you are growing, you still need cuddles from your Mum and I want to be here to keep that promise of you never being too big for a cuddle. I promised you I would always be here for you, to love you, no matter what. I can't break that promise. I just can't.
You are three amazing children and I love you so very, very much. The pain of losing my Mom is as real now as it was more than nine years ago. How can I inflict that torture on my babies? You are my whole world. Everything. I have failed in not being able to protect you from the horror of this. So unfair.
The world is so wrong for things like this to happen. After such a horrible year, when I had started with such hope for the future, everything has come crashing down. It is just so horrible. So so horrible.
There is literally NOTHING I can do now. Just hope that the radiotherapy and chemo do everything I need them to do. Dying is just not an option and I pray and hope with absolutely everything I am and all that I have, that I can fight this and win. I don't want to die but I am so scared.
I can only promise, absolutely, my darlings that I will do everything I can to beat this, for you.
Mom
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Friday 28 October 2011
Tuesday 25 October 2011
Hair I Go...
Yes, I'm talking hair again. Or lack of hair. Over the past few days it has been falling out thick and fast until today, there were just tufts left.
My amazing husband Tim helped me to remove the last few tufts and then massaged in some lovely oil that my dear friend @IsobelBowler sent to me. Perfect timing, it arrived on the day of the big fall-out.
I can honestly say, as someone who has always been complimented on my hair, especially as for most of my life it has been long, that losing it is just awful. I know all of the positives, I know it will grow back, but waking up every morning to hair on my pillow and throughout the day, moulting like a Persian Cat in Summer, is no fun at all.
On the other hand, I calculate that I shall save around £200 over the next few months, with no hair cuts, colouring and products! So that will go towards a treat when my treatment is finished!
The children are being incredibly brave and supportive. Harry keeps holding my hand and Betty tells me every day that it doesn't matter if my hair falls out, I will still be beautiful! Bless her! Then just to keep my feet on the ground, this evening little Freddy said "Night night Baldy!" when he went to bed. To which I replied "Nighty night Gappy!" as he has recently lost two front teeth.
They are why I fight, Tim is who helps me to have the courage to fight and to endure anything that this brings.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
My amazing husband Tim helped me to remove the last few tufts and then massaged in some lovely oil that my dear friend @IsobelBowler sent to me. Perfect timing, it arrived on the day of the big fall-out.
I can honestly say, as someone who has always been complimented on my hair, especially as for most of my life it has been long, that losing it is just awful. I know all of the positives, I know it will grow back, but waking up every morning to hair on my pillow and throughout the day, moulting like a Persian Cat in Summer, is no fun at all.
On the other hand, I calculate that I shall save around £200 over the next few months, with no hair cuts, colouring and products! So that will go towards a treat when my treatment is finished!
The children are being incredibly brave and supportive. Harry keeps holding my hand and Betty tells me every day that it doesn't matter if my hair falls out, I will still be beautiful! Bless her! Then just to keep my feet on the ground, this evening little Freddy said "Night night Baldy!" when he went to bed. To which I replied "Nighty night Gappy!" as he has recently lost two front teeth.
They are why I fight, Tim is who helps me to have the courage to fight and to endure anything that this brings.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Sunday 23 October 2011
Hairmageddon
Today turned out to be THE day. Hairmageddon as my husband Tim named it.
The day when I stepped into the shower and my hair fell out a handful at a time. I had to keep unblocking the plug, there was so much of it.
At my lowest, most self-absorbed points I keep remembering that photograph of Jade Goody, when she had lost all of her hair. That is the last memory her children have of her. I'm not giving up or anything but the thought of that terrifies me.
On the plus side, I have a fab wig and today Tim took me to Meadowhall to buy a couple of hats. I also have my scarves from last time and quite enjoyed creating designs to wear, decorating them with lovely pins and weaving bits of material here and there to make them look pretty, so I can look forward to doing that again!
Despite the tears and upset, I have to think positively. Losing my hair is a sign that the chemo is getting around my system and that's a good thing. At the end of the day, I will put up with anything, if it means I can stick around!
I still have songs to sing, dances to dance, hugs to give, children to love, (and embarrass) and hold. There is so much to do! I have a picture in my head of Tim and me, still holding hands when we are old - and in that picture, I'm NOT the bald one...
That is what I want to make sure of, so bring on whatever this treatment has got. I'll take it all, it's a trade-off and one that is absolutely worth it.
The day when I stepped into the shower and my hair fell out a handful at a time. I had to keep unblocking the plug, there was so much of it. When looking back at the last time this happened, the first time I had cancer, I always said it was the most traumatic part of the journey. This time though, I knew it was coming and thought it would be easier. Last time, I was very lucky to not lose it all and hoped that would be the case this time too. It isn't though, it is already much worse than it got at the end of my treatment last time.
At my lowest, most self-absorbed points I keep remembering that photograph of Jade Goody, when she had lost all of her hair. That is the last memory her children have of her. I'm not giving up or anything but the thought of that terrifies me.
On the plus side, I have a fab wig and today Tim took me to Meadowhall to buy a couple of hats. I also have my scarves from last time and quite enjoyed creating designs to wear, decorating them with lovely pins and weaving bits of material here and there to make them look pretty, so I can look forward to doing that again!
Despite the tears and upset, I have to think positively. Losing my hair is a sign that the chemo is getting around my system and that's a good thing. At the end of the day, I will put up with anything, if it means I can stick around!
I still have songs to sing, dances to dance, hugs to give, children to love, (and embarrass) and hold. There is so much to do! I have a picture in my head of Tim and me, still holding hands when we are old - and in that picture, I'm NOT the bald one...
That is what I want to make sure of, so bring on whatever this treatment has got. I'll take it all, it's a trade-off and one that is absolutely worth it.
Thursday 20 October 2011
First Chemo and the Fall
So, it has been two-weeks since my first chemo session. I have definitely benefited from it being second time around; knowing what drugs helped last time, meant I could request them from the start this time, and take them as preventative treatment, rather than waiting for the side effects and taking them in response.
This meant a HUGE win on this cycle with regard to sickness and nausea. I had none at all! Now I'm not expecting that to be the care with every cycle, as chemo does build up in your system as you progress through treatment, but I'll take it for now! I did get a sore mouth and was very achey, which made sleeping difficult but I know it could have been so much worse.
At the weekend, I asked my husband Tim, to use the clippers on my hair and cut it really short. Last time, I remember clearly, that day in the shower, when my hair came out a handful at a time and I want to avoid that this time. Losing my hair, when I had always worn it long, was probably the most traumatic part, so I am being more prepared this time around.
Today, it has really started to fall out, I can't help it though, every time it's a grey one, I am less upset about that particular hair dropping! On my head there's no such thing as ebony and ivory living together in perfect harmony... The dye will be back as soon as my hair is!
With the fall beginning, it was appropriate that I had my wig appointment this afternoon. Tim suggested a red colour and I'm glad I took his advice because I love my new wig.
I have also decided that I am going to try out the complementary therapies and home treatments and report back on whether they help or not.
Watch this space!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
This meant a HUGE win on this cycle with regard to sickness and nausea. I had none at all! Now I'm not expecting that to be the care with every cycle, as chemo does build up in your system as you progress through treatment, but I'll take it for now! I did get a sore mouth and was very achey, which made sleeping difficult but I know it could have been so much worse.
At the weekend, I asked my husband Tim, to use the clippers on my hair and cut it really short. Last time, I remember clearly, that day in the shower, when my hair came out a handful at a time and I want to avoid that this time. Losing my hair, when I had always worn it long, was probably the most traumatic part, so I am being more prepared this time around.
Today, it has really started to fall out, I can't help it though, every time it's a grey one, I am less upset about that particular hair dropping! On my head there's no such thing as ebony and ivory living together in perfect harmony... The dye will be back as soon as my hair is!
With the fall beginning, it was appropriate that I had my wig appointment this afternoon. Tim suggested a red colour and I'm glad I took his advice because I love my new wig.
I have also decided that I am going to try out the complementary therapies and home treatments and report back on whether they help or not.
Watch this space!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Monday 10 October 2011
Normality
I usually begin writing without a title in mind. Then I puzzle for hours about what I should call the piece I have just written. Trying to be clever, witty, snappy and fun. When sometimes the simplest titles work best.
Today, that is definitely the case. I had chemo on Thursday. Thanks to the miracles of anti-emetics (the strongest I could get), I had no sickness or nausea. Definite #WIN I feel a bit spaced out and weird but that is only to be expected. I spent much of the weekend and today laid on the sofa, enjoying the things that usually go on in my house at that time... kids squabbling, complaining about their chores and arguing over what will go on the TV.
Some people might find the thought of me enjoying that strange. But it isn't. That is NORMALITY and for me right now, the most important thing I could hope for.
I don't want my children worrying about me, about whether I am going to beat this cancer, or trying to tiptoe around me and be quiet. I don't want them to feel like they cannot be kids. Because in all of this, that is such an important thing. I do not want cancer to rob them of their childhood.
Children should not have these worries. Tim and I have been honest with them, whilst protecting them from the worst of it. While ever they are just being themselves, that helps me stay strong and that helps us all.
Today, that is definitely the case. I had chemo on Thursday. Thanks to the miracles of anti-emetics (the strongest I could get), I had no sickness or nausea. Definite #WIN I feel a bit spaced out and weird but that is only to be expected. I spent much of the weekend and today laid on the sofa, enjoying the things that usually go on in my house at that time... kids squabbling, complaining about their chores and arguing over what will go on the TV.
Some people might find the thought of me enjoying that strange. But it isn't. That is NORMALITY and for me right now, the most important thing I could hope for.
I don't want my children worrying about me, about whether I am going to beat this cancer, or trying to tiptoe around me and be quiet. I don't want them to feel like they cannot be kids. Because in all of this, that is such an important thing. I do not want cancer to rob them of their childhood.
Children should not have these worries. Tim and I have been honest with them, whilst protecting them from the worst of it. While ever they are just being themselves, that helps me stay strong and that helps us all.
Friday 7 October 2011
These Hands
Yesterday was my first chemo. It started ok, with a lovely piece of chocolate cake! Then there were needles, yuk! As I sat there, with the canula in the back of my hand and the drugs that I pray are going to help me to kick this once and for all dripping into my vein, Tim sat next to me. He has been beside me every step of the way and I am so thankful for that. (Last time and this time!)
Many of the staff that were there last time, are still in the chemo suite and the familiarity helped. Most of all though, having Tim to hold my hand, made it all so much more bearable.
He took this picture and posted it on Twitter, with the caption "It's all I can do." But it is everything to me. It is so frightening to go through this, I cannot imagine what it would be like to try to do it without Tim.
A friend of his on Facebook, pointed him in the direction of this verse, often used during wedding ceremonies. She said the picture made her think of it. I couldn't agree more and wanted to share it with you.
He took this picture and posted it on Twitter, with the caption "It's all I can do." But it is everything to me. It is so frightening to go through this, I cannot imagine what it would be like to try to do it without Tim.
A friend of his on Facebook, pointed him in the direction of this verse, often used during wedding ceremonies. She said the picture made her think of it. I couldn't agree more and wanted to share it with you.
These are the Hands
These are the hands that will passionately love you and cherish you through the years, for a lifetime of happiness.
These are the hands that will countless times wipe the tears from your eyes: tears of sorrow and tears of joy.
These are the hands that will comfort you in illness, and hold you when fear or grief fill you.
These are the hands that will give you support and celebrate with you in your accomplishments.
These are the hands that will hold you tight as you struggle through difficult times.
They are the hands that will comfort you when you are sick or console you when you are grieving.
And they do.These are the hands that will passionately love you and cherish you through the years, for a lifetime of happiness.
Tuesday 4 October 2011
In the Beginning...
I blog already but I felt it was important to have a blog that provides a space for me to say all of the things I cannot say on my other blog. Somewhere I can share my fears, hopes, failures and victories. No matter how big or small.
You see, I have cancer. At the moment I am not sure whether I am curable or not. I hope, but as this is the second time I have had this horrible disease, I know my oncologist is not optimistic. I lurch from being incredibly positive, to being terrified and not daring to plan beyond the next few weeks.
I have three absolutely wonderful, bright, amazing children and the thought that I may leave them prematurely fills me with the worst dread and fear.
I worry that I will not protect them from the worst of this, that I will fail in the main duty I have as a parent; to be here for my children.
You see, I have cancer. At the moment I am not sure whether I am curable or not. I hope, but as this is the second time I have had this horrible disease, I know my oncologist is not optimistic. I lurch from being incredibly positive, to being terrified and not daring to plan beyond the next few weeks.
I have three absolutely wonderful, bright, amazing children and the thought that I may leave them prematurely fills me with the worst dread and fear.
I worry that I will not protect them from the worst of this, that I will fail in the main duty I have as a parent; to be here for my children.
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