probably a rant?

First – check out the Golf day – tell everyone you know would you? Thanks!

Interesting week – non stop work, and non stop ‘trying to get organised’. I really HAVE to get my act together. The FH has been going mad with me, as he [correctly] assumes that I am just working like a crazy person and not logging my time. SO. This morning I spent 4 hours [yes, I am an imbecile when it comes to Excel] sorting out a time sheet. And I am rather proud of it I must say – it adds up all the hours I work, turns them into the amount I should earn, adds VAT [at a disgraceful 20%!] and totals my earnings. Amazing! I am a bloody genius. Pity it took so  long, but now I am organised, I can log my hours properly every day. Yay me.

In the meantime, one of my dearest friends is going through hell. She has a cyst on her ovary – it’s been causing her agonies since December. First it was a ‘twisted cyst’ [hence the pain]. Then it was a ‘we’re not sure’ type of cyst. Then they did a CT scan. No luck, as they cyst is behind the ovary. So then [exhausting isn’t it??] there were plans to do an MRI. Err – but they didn’t. Why? Who knows? This is Portugal. Then [it gets worse] the plan was to use suction to remove the cyst via the vagina. WHAT?? ‘We can’t see it, we don’t know what it is but let’s just ‘suck it and see’? F**k! Luckily, that plan was mooted. Now the plan is to do a laparoscopy to investigate – if there is anything they see that they don’t like, they will do open surgery and remove the cyst, and/or the ovary. In MARCH!!! 4 months will have passed – I am at my wits end, as I am so worried. My poor friend is completely exhausted and doesn’t know if she is coming or going and is finding it hard to make informed decisions. I can so identify with that. And again, I am SO grateful for the NHS. I wish I could bring her here for treatment!

Roll on the surgery – but please all spare a thought or prayer for her. We are hoping for the best but obviously considering the worst scenario. Personally, I KNOW she cannot have the same BS as I did. That would just be too weird. She is like my sister – so it can’t happen.

On another subject [I think?] – today I saw a post on Facebook, by the Breast Cancer Awareness troupe. They get on my nerves usually, as they are always trying to make everything pink ;) We want everything TEAL! Nah – just kidding – BUT, the post today made me think. Here it is [oh – by the way, they are trying to sell a really gross ring with this text – see above – ugh! Just $16.95…woohoo]:

“When the diagnosis comes, it's easy to focus on what cancer can do...to our bodies, our families, our lives. But here are the things cancer will never be able to do: It cannot cripple love, it cannot shatter hope, it cannot corrode faith, it cannot kill friendship, and it cannot destroy peace. Our pretty band is a promise to yourself to remember where your strength lies.”

I disagree. Utterly. This is fantastical nonsense - ‘it cannot shatter hope’? Oh give me a break! Hope disappears up ones own derrière with a cancer diagnosis. ‘it cannot kill friendship’? Oh yes it can – I speak from personal experience. ‘Friends’ one has known and loved for years can, and do, abandon one in the face of  a cancer diagnosis. Not that I blame them – I don’t. But it’s still a fact. Too much pinkness obviously clouds ones view of reality! ‘it cannot destroy peace’ – oh WHAT!?? That’s too much – one never again has peace – peace of mind, peace in the heart…ffft! That’s a cracker! Whoever wrote this tripe needs to get their butt down to a cancer ward, and ask a few cancery types what they think. Hopefully they’ll come out alive? Anyway – rant over…for now…

In the meantime, back at the shouty ranch, I am getting my brain ready for cycle training. Uff – not looking forward to it and wondering where I’ll fit it in? At least now the days are getting longer it might be reasonable to cycle in the evenings without getting frostbite in the face. Spinning is all very well, but nothing touches cycling on the road – you don’t get a wind factor in the spinning class! We have the Tarka Trail and we have Haldon Hill – gotta be good. I think…

400km UP hills? Oh woe is me…

biopsy results

GOOD NEWS FOR ME!! Gail called me today with the biopsy results; apparently Renninson was trying to get hold of me all day yesterday but I was at an exhibition with the FH. Pretty cool that he wanted to speak to me himself [that would be because I am his Favourite Patient heh heh – love that].

I suppose it must be a treat for Renninson to have good news to share, as I would imagine he has to make a LOT of really difficult phone calls, telling people bad news. Like the call I had from him in December – which, happily, is now the past. Although I still remember exactly how I felt at that moment. A horrible cold empty feeling. Then a mad rush of emotion; mainly fright and worry. Which we lived with until I had the laparoscopy last Monday. Pretty exhausting to be that worried all that time.

But that doesn't matter now, as the result is: ALL CLEAR, NO CANCER! As Renninson said initially; and I believed him, but this additional reassurance is fantastic.

Apparently he did a peritoneal biopsy, and the suspicious thing was 'pieces of fibroadipose tissue'. Well. Bloody fibroadipose [fibroadipose: fi·bro·ad·i·pose (fī'brō-ād'ə-pōs') adj.Relating to or containing both fibrous and fatty structures.] tissue should just stop with it's BS of looking weird! In fact, it could fuck right off would be good!! Anyway [calm calm] - the biopsy report states: 'pieces of fibroadipose tissue without malignancy'. WITHOUT MALIGNANCY – blessed words for any cancery type.

This is some of that fibroadipose tissue. Looks like a party animal for sure. I am seeing far too much of my innards recently.

I feel so lucky – it COULD have been a recurrence [and my life would have been completely different]; the odd thing is that because I was diagnosed almost exactly 2 years ago in February, and because everything happened again in February [the surgery, results etc], I feel almost 'undiagnosed'. Hard to explain, [and silly superstition] but as ovarian cancer is most likely to recur within the first 2 years, I was almost resigned to a recurrence. And hated February. How stupid am I?

We are just so pleased - we have gone WILD and we're having pizza and wine to celebrate - the FH trundled off to get it :o) And we have a big fire and life is good! Now just to heal properly [still have a belly full of stitches] and get a job!

wahahaha!!

Oh yes – I had to cancel the mammogram last Friday – driving to the RD&E for a procedure TWICE in one week would have just been too much for my teeny brain – but I already have another appointment for April 30th. Efficient eh? But I'll have to change that too, as I have the Target Ovarian Cancer Roadshow! Such a busy little bee…

Ow! This is getting old fast – the bruising on my tummy is coming OUT with a vengeance.

Yesterday I removed the itchy dressings; that made me feel a bit ill. Ugh. The dressings caused some kind of allergic reaction which is normal for me. My skin doesn't like hospital sticky things, no matter where they put them.

The stitches are poking out of the wounds! The one in my navel is the worst one – looks as if it has one vertical cut, then two horizontal ones. Or maybe the horizontal ones are the stitches? Who knows - all I know is it hurts like a bugger! I've stopped taking painkillers, as it's not that bad, but a bruise is a bruise, and I feel like I was kicked by a buffalo. Plus I am a wimp. I keep wondering what it must look like inside? Ugh.

The middle one is where they stabbed in the air thing – it's rather unnerving to read that they can't see ANYTHING until they have actually put these great big metal things IN. Hence the risk of perforated organs. Hmm…what fun.

As you can no doubt see, my tummy looks worse now than it did when I came home. And actually it feels worse too. But no doubt this time next week it'll be back to normal. Hooray. Can't wait, as I can't do circuit training or anything else much for that matter. And I've already cleaned, dusted and washed just about everything. Such excitement…I say! And actually, I am really looking forward to having no pain – hard to imagine, after having the adhesions for two years.

Today's colourful belly

still thinking

today's been a bit better –it's odd, before the laparoscopy I didn't really think about the after effects other than the obvious ones; did I have a recurrence, didn't I have a recurrence, and the little Brain Rats were going: 'you do, you do!! snigger snigger'. So I was waking up every day and night for weeks and weeks, thinking I probably had a recurrence. But going through the days absolutely positive that I didn't have one. This is the difference between my conscious and my sub-conscious minds. The conscious mind seems to have a far better grasp on How To Stay Sane. Whereas the sub-conscious seems to have no bloody idea and just tries to drive you mad as a hatter.

So I hadn't considered how long I would take to get back to normal [that seems so be a repeating refrain with all cancery types – when am I going to Get Back to Normal??]. Hmm – seems those days are long gone and I now have a new normality. But never mind that – what I mean is, I didn't think about this as being surgery. So I didn't consider the 'getting better' bit much.

Yesterday I finally had a chat with Gail. She said I can take off the dressings as of now, if I want to. Tomorrow they are coming off, as they are starting to ITCH. And she said I need to take it easy for three weeks. THREE WEEKS??  One week is gone almost, so just two left. Not so bad. She pointed out that even though I seem to have 'just' three little holes in me, which will soon heal up, Renninson had a field day rummaging about in there, cutting and prodding things. So there will be bleeding and bruising. Inside. Ugh. So I refuse to carry the Hoover up the  stairs. :o)

Early last night was horrendous – the post surgery wind kicked in and I felt like I was merely two arms, two legs and a head hanging off a torso with a mind of it's own. Shoulder pain, neck pain and a very sore tummy. And feeling quite delirious. So I went to bed full of painkillers for MORE sleep!

Today I only took the painkillers in the morning and I've been ok so far – the bruising is coming out and  still have a bloated painful tummy, but it's a lot less painful that's for sure. Did some housework and pottered about. Another early night for me!

Oh, and I DO wish  could get used to / believe this fabulous news!! It's so surreal – it seems easy to accept bad news, so why can't I accept the good news the same way?  I think the biopsy report will do it. Black and white and all that. But I don't understand why it still hasn't sunk in. Think I'm a bit thick??

today is Rockwell's birthday

Like yesterday, today I mostly slept all day. I still have lots of pain in my tummy, so I am just doing stuff around the house at a steady pace, doing a bit of stretching and scribbling on here. Oh, and did I mention sleeping?

Called Gail at the RD&E today to find out when I can remove the dressings from the wounds, as Grumpy Nurse didn't say. I don't like the thought of them mouldering away under there and I am not sure what the story is with the glue. One of the wounds has no dressing at all, and is just a bloody hole on my existing scar? Yuck. It seems to have been glued...but who knows? I'll find out tomorrow.

Useless factoid of the day: today was Norman Rockwell's birthday. Rockwell was a 20th century American painter and illustrator. I love his illustrations.

In the United States, Rockwell is most famous for the cover illustrations of everyday life scenarios he created for The Saturday Evening Post magazine.

Norman thought of himself first and foremost a commercial illustrator. Hesitant to consider it art, he harboured deep insecurities about his work. What is unmistakable, however, is that Rockwell tapped into the nostalgia of a people for a time that was kinder and simpler. Norman Rockwell's now nostalgic paintings and illustrations continue to live on in American history, depicting decades of pleasantry and pain.

Couldn't resist!

update part 02

So you'll remember me nattering on about the constant pain in my left side. Which we thought was a 'backed up' bowel. Well, as Renninson was going in there anyway, he said he'd have a look to see if he could sort that out. The main worry was that due to existing scar tissue, he wouldn't be able to see anything and we might have to resort to open surgery again. Noooo!

But luckily, he [report wording] "had a good view of the pelvis". Yay – I am so glad. Being filled up with air for no good reason would have been a tad peevish. It turned out to be an adhesion causing a 'loaded left colon, adherent across the anterior pelvis and to the right pelvic side wall'.

Here's a picture of the bowel being pushed against the wall of my pelvis by a revolting looking adhesion. Looks rather throttled – Renninson said it was causing what amounts to a kink in my bowel, plus it was stuck to the pelvic wall.

Here it is after the adhesion has been cut away. No wonder it hurt so much.

The rest of the report went so: "Normal peritoneum across rest of abdomen" [this is a GOOD thing!]. And this is the interesting bit: "Small bowel loop adherent to RIGHT pelvic side wall at the site of the Abnormality on the Scan. No peritoneal abnormality below adhesions." So the Abnormality was also caused by an adhesion! Ha!! And double ha!

This is that bit. The Suspicious Object.

So he divided all the adhesions, mobilised the bowel and freed the small loop from the right wall of my pelvis. Then he took a peritoneal biopsy from the site of the Abnormality. Which we shall hear about in a few weeks when I have my oncologists appointment.

Apparently I have dissolvable stitches and GLUE holding me together at the moment. Hmm. No-one actually told me when I can take the dressings off.

Interestingly, as I was leaving I was told by the ward nurse that I could have a shower as the dressings are waterproof. They don't look very waterproof to me, and as that same nurse told me I would bleed heavily for two weeks due to the blue dye they inserted into my uterus…well, I don't actually have much faith in her at all. I don't HAVE a uterus!

And good job I knew about the blue dye BEFORE I went in [thanks www] or I would have had a heart attack when I went to the toilet after the surgery. So today I managed a bath without getting my dressings wet, as I was covered in iodine and blood. Yuck! Too delirious to risk it last night, and it took ages as I was worried about falling unconscious in the water - but I feel much better now.

This same nurse was a right grump, and as I had been there longer than her, was more tired than her, had just had surgery and wanted some sensible answers, she's quite lucky I didn't batter her with a bedpan.

But at the end of the day, what a brilliant result. Once the biopsy confirms that it isn't cancer at all, then we will seriously celebrate.

I don't think I've ever been so stressed as the last few weeks. So glad THAT'S over. Now just to heal up and oh, Friday I have a mammogram! Hahaha – never ends…

update part 01

First thing is, it's GOOD news! Second; this will probably be a bit fragmented. I am still full of anaesthetic and pain killers. So I will write between sleeping. I have to walk about a bit, as much as I'd like to stay in bed all day so trundling up and downstairs to my office seems good exercise. Just have to go slowly. So many people have asked for an update, and here is the easiest place to tell everyone all in one go. Between nodding off!

Yesterday. We arrived at the hospital at 8.00. My surgery was scheduled for 3.00. No eating after 7.30, no drinking after 11.00. The Ward Nurses were not happy; I could have gone in at 11.00, as it was I sat in the waiting room for 4 hours before they could put me in the Day Ward. Then another 3 hours in there. Happily I met a lovely woman and we chatted all morning, so the time went quite quickly. She was on the same schedule as me, except her surgery was at 1.30.

Yawn. Time for a kip.

In the Day Ward we got into our hospital gowns [a new, sort of oriental design that covers your butt – thoughtful!] and the snazzy white DVT knee socks. There were 10 of us all sitting next to our beds. It seemed confusing as there were two women supposedly first on the list. Hmm – then a major frenzy occurred at about 12.30. Anaesthetists and surgeons descended upon us like locusts! TWO surgeons. Good. Two lists. I was third on Mr Renninson's, and my time moved from 3.00 to 3.30.

I saw the Anaesthetist, Dr John Saddler, first. As usual, a wit. Seems to me Anaesthetists are always pretty chuckalicious chaps. Then I saw Mr Renninson, my surgeon. He ran through the procedure, we discussed the book I am reading as he is reading it too, he got me to sign the release forms and told me he would come and tell me what he saw as soon as I was coming round. He said if he didn't see anything cancerous, he wouldn't bother with a biopsy. Aaargh! What? So I asked him to PLEASE just do it anyway, as he would be in there rooting about, so why not have that extra assurance? He said he'd see, and he also said I am his favourite patient!! That was nice of him. He is for SURE my favourite surgeon!

Sorry, I am not getting far fast with this – I started at 8.30 and it's now 12.00. I keep wandering off. I have managed to sleep a bit and do some washing in between. And eat more painkillers. And I am now going for more sleep!

Right – where was I? Oh yes. So, off I went to surgery, actually at 3.15 – managed to see the FH, who popped back, but only for a minute. I came round about 40 minutes later, and I am sure it was 2 minutes after that that Renninson shot into the room, beaming his little head off and informed me he couldn't see ANY CANCER!!! Then he rushed off again with the promise he would see me later. Whoosh!

He had a Noddy hat on?! A red and blue striped beany. I will never forget it.

I couldn't believe it. I burst into tears which promptly threatened to drown me, as I still had the oxygen mask on. And that is the best news we have had for what seems like forever. I just wanted to rip the mask off, find the FH and tell him. I did manage to give him the thumbs up as they wheeled me past him on the way to recuperate in the Day Ward. His little face was a picture – I'll never forget that either.

More details later. He had to do a bit of chopping and slicing. I have pictures!! And stitches. Ugh.

I will still be a LITTLE worried until I get the biopsy results in a few weeks, but Mr R is pretty reassuring. If he says no cancer, well…I am 98% there. More sleep now, as everything is rather hurting. But I am The Bomb!! No cancer??…woo hoo!

preparing for the Great Chopstick Attack

Well, I just went through the rigmarole of Getting Ready To Go In. Nice long soak in the bath – in lovely birthday bath stuff from Neal's Yard. Wash my demented hair. Remove all make-up, all jewellery, which I hate doing, as I never ever remove my wedding ring or the necklace FH gave me for our first wedding anniversary. But they taped my rings last time, so I am hoping they will do the same this time.

Remove nail varnish; quite gross as my nails are so long, but only for one day, so not too bad. Tidy up everywhere. Set my alarm – have to be there at 8.00, and can have my breakfast as long it's before 7.30. Then nothing but water or black coffee until after the Great Chopstick Attack. I am going to STARVE!! Program the Ward phone number into both our mobile phones. Put them on charge. Find the letter I have to take with me.

Dig out the long, loose Monsoon dress and the big fur coat for coming home in. Don't fancy wearing anything home that'll squash me. And I will be freezing…

Pack a bag;

• big fat fluffy dressing gown – check
• frumpy pink nightdress – check
• hospital 'specials' [frumpy black knickers from M&S!] - check
• Havaianas [no slippers!] – check
• iPhone charger [it eats battery on the internet] – check
• book – check
• wash bag [in case I have to stay there - eek] - check

Specs to read, ciggies in case I get a chance to sneak out [doubtful!], money – not much, but in case.

Now to remain calm and get a good nights sleep. Doubtful too. But I will get plenty of sleep the day after as anaesthetic knocks me for six. The FH has done rather well in not killing me this last few weeks – I am sure he'll be grateful for the Unconscious Wife for a while, as averse to the 'Gibbering Nervous Wreck' or the 'Vacant Eyed Zombie'  ;o)

tally ho

Hoorah! D-Day approacheth! Tomorrow, the surgery. I eventually went into manic mode, cleaned the house and got the grocery shopping in, which is far more a norm for me than this constant drooping about like a wet rag.

The week DID improve rather dramatically, as I had a load of lovely girls round for dinner on Friday night – originally it was just for we Cancery Types, but it turned into a free for all, and was good fun. And good therapy. Everyone brought some food, some wine and I got more beautiful birthday flowers. Spoilt. So, no cooking! Yippee! We had enough food for the 40 000! When the chaps came to pick up their other halves we were begging them to eat some of it. The FH was chuffed to find some sustenance waiting after his cold walk home from the pub.

Partay! I really need a haircut!

My worry about catching a cold came true; Friday and Saturday I was sneezing like a mad thing, but I am now down to just an itchy nose and a sniff. I am hoping that doesn't affect tomorrow's surgery. If it does, I shall be having a minor MAJOR nervous breakdown.

The amount of e-cards, cards, prayers, wishes and good luck are [as always] so touching. Thanks everyone. Sometimes when I am just about at my wits end, someone does or says just the right thing, and I am back with the program. It has been a weird few weeks, up, down, cross, sad – but now I am going in, I am sorted. Action is always a good thing in my book.

Here's hoping that:

A: Renninson can blow me up properly with the Carbon Dioxide [if he can't it'll be open surgery again – ugh]. It may be that there are too many adhesions in there from the last Laff Riot, glueing everything together.

B: He can see what it is straight away – now wouldn't that be fun?

C: that I get my biopsy results at speed.

And last, but certainly not least, that it's just scar tissue. Positive thinking, all will be well…and all manner of things will be well.

the long week

Image copyright Kisaru

I am sure I've never endured such a long week. When I am on holiday they definitely don't last this long! Why's that then?

Then after Monday's laparoscopy, it'll be the next WAIT for the biopsy results. The uncertainty is doing my head in. I am incapable of rational thought. I can't DO anything. And the things I do get done are very slipshod; it's as if all I am actually capable of is waiting. That's ridiculous. But all the same, it's true. I feel like my head is full of mayhem. I have taken to reading a lot. Trying to accomplish something, even if it's just finishing a book. And not thinking too much. But thinking a LOT.

My feet are always freezing because I still can't wear shoes. I need to clean the house and go grocery shopping. But I am worried about catching a cold from some germy tyke whilst I am about it. Perhaps I should wear one of those white mask things? That would go down well at the supermarket heh heh. Or an oxygen tank. A diving suit!

Perhaps I'll just sit in front of the washing machine and watch the clothes going around – at least THEY will be doing something! Maybe whilst wearing the diving suit.  What am I even doing up? I should have stayed in bed.

Bah.