Back to the future...

Recently I have been giving some thought to the future, The end of chemo is in sight. I have two more, so not out of the dark side yet. When I went to watch my two younger sisters and two nieces run the Race for Life (well, they walked but quite fast) I was an emotional mess. My sister H, was diagnosed with breast cancer four years ago, and has, since then been a tireless campaigner for Cancer Research UK. She and the others all ran with my name on their backs, the other sister and the nieces had H on their backs too. H and I have never hugged each other so tight in our lives. I was profoundly moved by their public support and by the 7496 other women who were running in support of cancer sufferers. I intend to work as an Ovarian Cancer Action Voice, in the future, raising awareness of this particularly sneaky variant of cancer. I really enjoyed the day. We had strawberries and cream and ate jelly sweets. One of my nieces decided that I should have a 55th birthday party. This would not only celebrate my birthday but the fact that I will be there to see it! While we were chatting purple artificial flowers were handed out, I chose to wear mine this way.

The other part of the future I am looking to is returning to work. I am a primary school teacher and have missed work like crazy. Plans are now falling into place. Until the beginning of this week I did not know which year group I was going to teach. To my great delight I found out that I am to be working in Year 3. This is my favourite year group - challenging but fun. I am sharing my class with a student teacher all year, which is really lovely. I am working with a fab Team Leader and super teacher colleague as well. I am going to start back in September, three days a week, for two weeks, separated by a rest day in between. Then four days the next week and full time after that. I know it might seem very early to be looking in such detail but the schools close in two weeks and all this needs sorting.
All this positive looking forward has been very good for me. When in the depths of chemo treatment it is very easy to get bogged down in it and not able to see anything positive at all. The treatment cycles seem endless and the bad week feels interminable too. The good things in the future are a very bright light at the end of the chemo tunnel. I am heading towards that light with a big smile on my face.

Pretties...

I'm sure I'm not alone in saying that a diagnosis of cancer has far reaching consequences. It is a bit like dropping a pebble in a pool, the ripples expand outwards affecting more and more of the surface. The ripple I'm writing about today is about appearance and confidence. Although my surgery did not have the impact on my body image that breast cancer would have done, it has left a mark. I never did wear clothing that flashed my tummy (ever), but nonetheless my scar is large and my tummy has a rather lumpy appearance. I've made it clear that losing my hair bothered me less than it might others. Despite this my confidence in my appearance has taken a huge knock. I think it started before my cancer was diagnosed when my abdomen swelled so much that I looked 8 months pregnant. I had to buy clothes quickly to cover the bump and all while I was feeling really poorly.
We have a couple of weddings to attend soon and a scan of my wardrobe revealed very little that was suitable. I have my outfit from my daughter's wedding, but that was in April and the clothes may be a little warm.
So, it was with trepidation, I set off with Mr G to buy some clothes on Saturday. I had it in my mind that a maxi dress would be a good idea, but remember I wore these first time round in the 1970's. To cut a long story short, after three shops my heart was sinking. Why dress designers think an ample bosom can be contained by shoe string straps, I have no idea! Most of the dresses I saw would have caused me to frighten small children.
Then I saw it..

The Dress...

...it has it all. Enough coverage to be decent. It is made of silk, so it is swooshy. It makes me feel like a princess. I bought it.

I was on a roll. In short order, I found a little crochet cap to which I added a silk flower to wear with the Dress.

Next, I found two tops which fit like a dream, and either of which are perfect for the evening wedding we are attending.

Lastly I found two scarves which make lovely soft head coverings for cooler days and evenings.

It is hard to describe how much the success of these purchases has raised my confidence. It is a huge step towards getting my life back.
Onwards and upwards.

Ho hum...

I've not blogged for over a week. I have just not been 'with it' enough to write. I had extra steroids immediately after my chemo. These removed the sickness and nausea, and also meant I did not have any bedbound days. This was all good. However the fuzzy muzzies seem to have gone on longer and this has made me miserable. The muzziness has probably only been an extra 24 hours but has affected me disproportionately. I am wondering if the only issue is one of perception. Without the bedbound days as contrast, maybe the fuzzy days are not worse, just do not appear so good.

This week has been one of contemplation too. I have been talking to friends about getting back to the world of work. I am desperate to be part of the world again, but I am quite terrified that my poor battered body will not hack it. The surgery is a thing of the past but the toll taken by the repeated poisonings of each chemo session cannot be denied. I intend to get back to work in September, initially part time, but full time by the third week. I don't have much choice, I run out of full time sick pay and cannot manage on half pay. Looking at life, past treatment, is scary, full of unknowns. I know life is never about certainties, but my confidence in what life might bring has taken a beating. My Oncologist, attempting to reassure me, says I will be monitored and checked. This will not stop the cancer coming back, just let me know if it has! Over the next weeks and months I need to sort out how to live in spite of having cancer. I refuse to let it blight any more of my life. I refuse to live in fear. To this end I'm not writing a bucket list. I'm just going to have a list of things I will do, when I want and because I want to do them. Cancer will not limit me living my life.

Ten things I would not be without during treatment.

This is a highly personal list of things and people without whom my life would be a lot more miserable.

1. This has to be the unflinching support of Mr G, my family, and friends. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart,
2. Lemon and lime squash in bottled water. The only way I can drink water. Strangely the chemo makes tap water taste like chemo!
3. Indian Tonic Water - all of above AND it stops the cramps in the soles of my feet.
4. Lemon grass and oil shower gel - cuts through the chemo smell on my skin (there is a theme developing here!) and the little oily globules sooth the itchy dry skin.
5. Foods I can eat on the 'bad weekend' upon me now - ginger nut biscuits, Jamaican Ginger Cake, fresh pineapple, oatcakes, and raspberries. How bizarre.
6. My lovely comfy bed.
7. Crabtree and Evelyn Hand Cream (No, I don't own shares) Smells gorgeous and melt away on skin.
8. My laptop.
9. The bird feeding station I can see from the sofa. Currently hosting baby sparrows and goldfinches with accompanying adults. Ditto Starlings. A harassed looking Robin. A very fat Wood Pigeon hoovering up the scraps.
10. The library from which, two weeks out of the three, I am avidly reading lots of lovely books.

Soundtracks...

All my life, I have realised that most years have a soundtrack. The ones of my youth were without fail the songs I heard on the radio and at the disco. Yes, once, I was a disco chick.

In later years, with tiny babies and small children, there were the chart songs we sang to them, alongside their favourite videos. One of the songs I remember was James with Sit Down. The videos included Thomas the Tank Engine, The Care Bears, Postman Pat and The Snowman. More recently my sound tracks have included The Waterboys (I found them late), and assorted tunes which meant something to me. The year I learnt to belly dance had lots of fusion music to which I shook and wiggled with joy.
This year, I have found it difficult to listen to much music. While I was recovering from surgery, lots of music simply reminded me of the past I could not live again, or it made me want to dance which I could not do. During my chemo weeks I suffer from tinnitus and music is too loud or too muffled, and occasionally plain irritating.

pic by 0silver0

Some blogs I have read recently have talked about choosing tracks that make you feel, think and dance. I did choose some but they are not my soundtrack for now. However, I have found a soundtrack for now. The seed was planted during an episode of Homes Under the Hammer. They featured a cottage called Pippin, and underpinned the piece with part of the soundtrack to The Lord of the Rings trilogy. I was smitten, not by the cottage but by the music. I promptly bought an album of the soundtrack to the films. Achingly it took nearly a week to arrive. When it eventually plopped through the letterbox, I rushed to open it, stuck it in my laptop, and bunged it on iTunes. There was my soundtrack, reflecting, pain, melancholy, strife, struggle. The counterpoints are joy, peace, triumph, steadfastness, fellowship, winning through and ultimately fulfilling a quest. This music is perfect for me, now, at this point in my life. I can listen to this music all the time. This soundtrack soothes my soul. Have you got a soundtrack for now? Think about it...

Never have bad hair day!

Since I lost my hair I have not been missing:

1. The daily wash and condition routine.
2. Driving to work with damp hair.
3. Trying to glue down the sticking up tuft with hair wax.
4. Trying to successfully colour my hair - I ALWAYS miss a bit.
5. Worrying about getting caught in the rain, quick wipe with a tissue
and my head is ready to go.
6. Fitting haircuts in on Saturday mornings.
7. Despairing at the ever increasing greyness.
8. Mislaying my favourite comb - I can always find it grinning at me
reproachfully, showing its teeth.
9. Wishing my hair was curly or swishy.
10.Picking the grey hairs off my black work cardigan.

I have celebrated having no hair today by having this done:

It will come off with surgical spirit, but I'm going to try to keep it until I go for chemo on Thursday.

The worst of times and the best of times.

Although I've tried to be upbeat and cheery in my blog, I think it is only fair on others fighting the same fight as me, to acknowledge that there are bad times. For me, my worst times have been when the chemo has made me feel really poorly. Sickness and nausea are very debilitating. When it occurs at night, the hours drag by, and I can say I've never felt so lonely as during those times.

Another low spot was when I wanted to do my share of chores, and I tried to make the evening meal. I managed to get the meat out of the fridge and into the oven, I managed to peel potatoes and carrots. However when I tried to cut up an onion and the other vegetables for the dish of roast veggies I planned, I could not press hard enough (or safely) with the knife. I was too weak from the chemo to do a simple household task. I wept buckets, it was so disheartening. I do now have a more realistic view of what I can do and when.
This week, I have had one of the best of times. A very large, very old tree in a park near my house was being felled. The 'elephant tree' was between 150 and 200 years old and as an easily climbed tree was very popular and was part of many happy memories. I went to watch along with quite a few others. I sat next to a blonde lady and we started chatting. She used to live in my close, but had moved away. With no hair, it is obvious that I am not 100%, and she asked what cancer I had. I told her, and she said she had lost her Mum to the same thing 18 months previously. We chatted, had a cup of tea, chatted some more, and quickly became friends. We found that there were all sorts of coincidental or synchronous things in our lives from names to dates of birth. Last night, we found out via social media, that one of my chemo sisters was my new friend's Mum's best friend! It is a small, small world.

My disease is awful, the chemo is awful, but I have found wonderful, wonderful new friends and that makes this the best of times.