I can’t remember where I came across this, but it’s kinda fab doncha think?
Also…. kitten!
believe in yourself
23 Wednesday Dec 2015
Category Archives: hope
scanxiety is what it is
21 Wednesday Oct 2015
Posted in cancer, health & happiness, home, hope, hospitals
I came across this the other day whilst thinking about scanxiety, and at first I thought, hey yeah, that’s cool. But then I thought, hey wait a minute.
I agree with the bit that talks about the things that cause our anxiety have already happened (so saying not to worry about things that will never happen obviously does not work here). And I agree with the part that says it’s about remembering. Because it did happen to me. Again and then again. So you know, why wouldn’t it happen yet again?
Which brings me to the part I disagree with “it’s not so much about worrying.” Sorry, for me it’s TOTALLY about worrying. And fretting, and second-guessing, and hoping, and regretting, and even panicking. Hey, it happened before, it can happen again. Why is that so hard to understand? And all those well meaning people who say “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine”… I kind of wish they wouldn’t say that. I know it’s not meant as such but it feels a bit like being given the brush off. That I am worrying about nothing. Really? If your cancer came back twice would you honestly and truly believe it would never come back again? That there is nothing to worry about? Think again.
So what’s the best thing to say to someone terrified about the possible outcome of yet another PET scan? Well, how about whatever is real for you? That you have no idea what I’m going through but you are hoping for the best. That you will get on the next plane if it all goes tits up. That you’ve been through this yourself and it’s totally shit and you’ll be waiting for me on the other side of the results. And even that you care a lot but simply don’t know what to say – that’s all totally okay and also totally understandable.
But please don’t tell me not to worry. Or that of course I will be okay. Though in fact, it turns out I am okay this time, at least for now. Yesterday’s PET scan was ALL CLEAR. And I’m still processing this. It will take a few days before I allow myself to feel all that happy relief. Or rather, I will dole it out bit by bit… once you have almost died you learn to savour things, so this happy joy of once again dodging a cancer bullet should keep me going until at least Christmas. After that, it will be life as usual again. Or at least as usual as it ever is for cancer survivors. Hey, thanks for listening. xx
keep calm and cuddle cats…
20 Tuesday Oct 2015
Posted in cancer, cats, health & happiness, hope, hospitals
Yesterday morning while I was working on the computer, answering some emails, flatmate Peter suddenly said to me, “now don’t get mad…”
Turns out while I was away in Jerez the hospital called the landline and told Peter that my PET scan was going to be on Tuesday morning at 8 am. And he forgot to tell me! Like, wtf? How the hell do you forget that sort of thing?? Anyhow, that meant the scan would be THE VERY NEXT DAY. Today.
So I spent most of yesterday fighting off scanxiety. Luckily I had a meeting in the morning with my lovely WLT chicas, and then a lunchtime tapas tour, to help keep my mind off things. Then in the evening I did just “whatever” until it was time to go to bed. I really couldn’t focus very well. Too many feelings.
By the time this post goes up I will already be at the hospital, pumped full of radioactive isotope and waiting to go into the machine. And I will be trying to remember how I felt when this photo was taken on Sunday morning. I was back from Jerez and enjoying coffee in bed with the cats, listening to the rain, feeling happy and calm. But I know I will actually be terrified. See you on the other side…
it’s gone
12 Thursday Feb 2015
The prep-room at the hospital. My appointment was at 3.00 today and l arrived right on time, expecting to wait at least an hour before my name was called. Five minutes later l was undressing in the prep-room and waiting for the nurse to stick a shunt in my hand (just in case). Turns out all the prep (blood test, no eating, NO WATER for 8 hours) was just in case that happily wasn’t necessary. There was some serious stabby pain when the local anaesthetic was jabbed into my chest, but other than that it was a breeze. The whole procedure took about seven minutes.
My only regret was that I didn’t get a photo of my ex-port lying in the pan. After all, we’d lived together for almost six years. In fact, I asked after I’d got dressed again and the nurse said “oooh, you should have asked straight away, we’ve thrown it into the bin now”. Apparently they didn’t think this was a weird request. In fact, I’d had a couple of other questions for them, prefacing with “I hope you don’t mind…” and they were lovely. The surgeon said there were no silly questions and that it was important that I felt at ease. ALL women on this team today. Not to say that men can’t be understanding, but when you’re yanking something out from between someone’s breasts I’m guessing there’s just a bit more empathy there with women.
First thing I did after I got out of there was drink two huge glasses of water. And this evening I’m just chillin’ at home with the cats and feeling so glad to have this over and done with. Until October. Turns out I only get a 6 month hospital break this time after all (the 6-month PET would’ve been in March) but if all goes well in October then I will get an entire year off from hospital visits. Wow. Seriously wow.
it’s coming out!
09 Monday Feb 2015
Tags
I got the call today!
On Thursday afternoon they’re taking out the chemo port. And, like, wow… I don’t even know how to feel about that. I mean, it’s good timing as I would have had to go and get the damn thing flushed out this week anyhow. Though as it is I’ll have to make an extra hospital trip tomorrow to get blood work done so they can check coagulation. I remember when I had it put in, not thinking twice about it because the idea of having any more chemo pumped through my poor hand veins was more than I could bear. So even when the chemo port “post-op” proved a bit more painful than I’d expected, well, it was nothing compared to the alternative.
Of course now I’m all nervous. And almost afraid to give it up, you know, just in case. It’s like I’m tempting fate or something, like it’s too hard to really believe that IT won’t come back. Anyhow, my appointment is for 3 pm on Thursday. Can’t eat after 7 am, which won’t be a problem. But they told me I can’t even drink water. I don’t remember that from last time. No water?? I need to find someone to come with me as I’ll be sedated and have a local anaesthetic so may be woozy afterwards. And then I’ll go home. And I won’t have a chemo port in my chest anymore. Huh?
casa azahar 