Diagnosed with IDC Breast Cancer

What a year it has been ... but hello 2017, here I come!

2016-12-30T09:09:40Z

- Most women were just walking along, living their lives, when they were blindsided by breast cancer. Unless you had a strong family history of the disease, you' probably said, "I never thought it would happen to me" at least once.

- After treatment, now that you've learned in a very painful and immediate way that it can happen to you, you may find yourself overwhelmed by fears that it will happen again. Fears of recurrence are particularly persistent as you're first leaving active treatment, when you go from seeing an oncologist of some kind every week or every other week to checkups every three months, and then every six months. You may expect that you'll want to throw yourself a party on your last day of chemo or radiation, only to find that you're a little melancholy or fearful, thinking, 'Maybe I should be getting more treatments just to be sure?'

- It's hard to shift back to a life where treatment is less in your face than it was before," she says."Treatments keep you busy and occupied and they take a long time, when you finish treatment you're at loose ends, wondering if it will come back. You want to think that someone's still watching.

- Give yourself -- and your treatment plan -- credit. "You worked so hard to identify a plan of action and worked so hard to make it happen. At the end, you have to stop and give yourself credit for what you've just achieved, then pause and shift to a different phase in your life.

- Maybe you heard a news story about someone and found yourself thinking, "Why didn't my doctor recommend that to me?" Remember, you don't know everything about someone else's breast cancer. The woman next to you in the waiting room may seem like she has a very similar type of disease, but there could be factors you don't know about that make you very different. - - Will there ever be a day that you don't think about breast cancer, or worry about it coming back? Yes, it does recede. Eventually there were whole days when I didn't think about it. Time is a healer in that sense." The above extracts were taken from an article about Breast Cancer Survivors written by Marissa Weiss, Jami Bernard and Gina Shaw from the WebMD website.

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I think the above article is a very accurate reflection on how I feel right now. 2016 has certainly been a year that I will ever forget. I never intended to start a blog that other people would read, I just need somewhere to vent my fears in the early days. I've just been writing down exactly what I feel (hence the typos and lack of grammatical correctness!). It's been really nice to receive comments about what I have written, from my friends and from people I don't even know. I didn't think people would be interested, let alone read/follow my journey. As the extracts above mention, no two cancer survivors have the same journey, maybe similar but never identical. I'm certainly no medical expert and my own experience has only touched upon the surface of the world of cancer but I hope that I can show that, yes, sometimes it can be possible to be diagnosed with cancer and to come out smiling at the other end. Only a few months ago, my whole world came crashing down on me and it was very dark. Now I about to start a new year feeling positive and ready to live my life again and have a lot to smile about. I am not going to 'try and forget' 2016 but I am going to see it as the year I got lucky and was given a second chance to live. Cancer diagnosis /fear of recurrence will always be part of me but I certainly agree that time is a great healer and it no longer dominates my thoughts for the long periods of the day in the way that it did, not so long ago. It may come back, it may not, I can't sit around all day worrying myself senseless about the 'what if' and focus on the 'now'. It may come back and if it did, at least I have a little more of an idea of what to expect and less of the 'fear of the unknown'. Hopefully the positive things that has come out of this journey is that it has made me stronger and re-evaluate my priorities and know who/what is important to me in my life. I have learnt a lot about myself and my body and that it's ok to allow for 'me' time. I can't control the future but I can do my best to try and keep fit healthy and to spend happy times with my loved ones and try to say 'yes' more rather than 'I don't have time'.

I'm returning back to work soon in a couple of weeks, I have a marathon to walk (and to start preparing for) and lots more to plan ahead with my family and friends in the new year ahead. Hello 2017, here I come! A happy and healthy New Year to everyone!

Dates for the diary

2016-12-12T23:19:51Z

I had my appointment with the consultant last week. She carried out a full check up using the ultrasound and everything seemed fine so far.

Lots of dates to enter into my diary:

Mid January - return to work.

February - bone scan and check up with oncologist.

May - mammogram and ultrasound 1 year post diagnosis.

I am looking forward to returning to work in the new year. Emotionally, I feel more in control than I did a few weeks ago. I realise there is no point even worrying about the medical appointments (well at least not until nearer the time). Physically I also feel improvement and I have continued with light excercise every day. Of course, I am still anxious and have many moments when the fear sets in again but I know I can't foresee into the future. I feel positive as I feel I have regained a degree of control back in my like and I feel a little stronger both physically and emotionally. I cannot ever predict what the future mammograms will show but I can certainly put my effort into keeping myself healthy and doing whatever I can to try and reduce risks.

Toenails ...

2016-11-20T20:40:45Z

I always wear nail polish on my toes, whatever the season so I may not have realised any change in appearance to the toe nails over the last few weeks. Recently, I have been experiencing pain in both my big toenails. It appears now that the toenail is lifting slightly from the nailbed. Although I did finish chemo quite a few weeks ago, apparently it is still in your system for a while and the effect on the nails at a later stage is not unusual.

I am not too sure whether the nail will actually come off like it has for many people. Wearing sandals during winter is not ideal but it might become too painful to wear shoes. Hopefully it won't start on my fingernails, otherwise it will be like a scene from The Fly! I guess it has come as a little shock as I was hoping things will start growing back weeks several post treatment rather than still losing bits here and there.

Finding 'me' again ...

2016-11-10T22:30:27Z

Extract from 'The Cancer Survivor's Companion' (Dr F. Goodhart)

For most of the time you sail along weathering both the expected and unanticipated storms that occur in every life. Then, all of a sudden and without warning, the most horrendous storm blows up - much worse than any you have experienced before and completely unexpectedly. Your boat is tossed all over the place, you are lashed by rain and wind, the waves crash about you, their size obliterating the horizon and restricting your vision to the immediate surroundings. You fear for your life and hang on to whatever is to hand to stop yourself from being washed overboard. But, like treatment, the turmoil subsides and there is the beginning of the calm after the storm. You look around at your boat, battered and damaged though it is, and it is still afloat.There is a need to repair and mend those bits that have been broken or damaged. Some items may be lost, washed overboard and you will have to find ways of proceeding in spite of these losses. Once you have looked over the boat, you gingerly look out to sea. But instead of a clear blue ocean and cloudless sky you see little but mist and fog. Your sea charts have been lost in the storm. You are not really sure of your position, whether you are in the same place as before, pointing in the same direction. You may also wonder whether you want to go on along the same path as before.The sea, though calmer, is still unsettled and your world feels unstable under your feet. Thoughts of where to go, what next, how to get help assault you and add to your worry and uncertainty.

The above extract is such a heartfelt description of the rollercoaster of emotions since that evening of Wednesday 27th April this year. Over the last few weeks, I have had a chance to speak to and hear from different people about how I'm feeling. I think I realise that I'm punishing myself unnecessarily for feeling so sad and that it is not unusual at this stage to have this massive anxiety cloud hovering over me. Regardless of what type of diagnosis and prognosis and how 'common' it is, having cancer is not normal. The treatment process does not end on the last session of chemo/radiotherapy. The time now is equally as difficult as you are now left on your own to come to terms with what has actually happened over the last 6 months with the lingering side effects as a gentle reminder: the tingling of my fingers if they are in one position for too long, the tightness as I stretch out the left arm, the nausea I from starting the Tamoxifen recently, the unsightly toenails which have come away as a result of chemo. Moving on is almost as tough as living through diagnosis and treatment because whether you like it or not, cancer changes your life, forever. The mental trauma is delayed until right at the end when the whole gruelling treatment process has ended. I know that the physical symptoms will expire in time but I have to be more patient with the emotional side. I have to learn to accept that the sad feelings are ok to have right now and allow myself time for these anxieties to subside and slowly rebuild myself again, physically and more important, emotionally. My fears will never go away but I have to learn to manage them. I have started light exercise and doing a lot of walking. I figured that once my body gets stronger, I'm sure my mind will too. I've never been a fan of exercise but at least it's one thing I feel I can have control of right now and can action. Over the last few months, the treatment plan has been set out black and white and followed vigourously. Now I just need some time to catch up with myself, to digest/accept what has actually happened and slowly rebuild to find 'me' again and to spend my time enjoying the present and embracing the future with less fear.

Moving on ....

2016-10-06T14:42:02Z

On some days, I find it tiring just walking up the stairs in my own house. I am getting plenty of sleep so I am not tired in that way but my legs ache heavily as I drag myself up the steps. These are the same stairs I am use to constantly running up and down without even thinking.

Makes me think I would probably need a bungalow when I get older a stair lift!

I know this tiredness will not last forever and I was told it could be weeks or months after treatment before I get back to normal, that and also the funny cord thing running along my left arm too and the numbness in my fingers.

In a moment of madness, I decide to sign up for next summer's London Moon Walk for the charity Walk for Walk and will be walking a marathon around London at midnight in a bra! I needed something to focus on, something to make me think that I won't feel like this forever as it will get better. I've donated to many charities over the years but now I have a chance to take part as a participant rather than just a donor, raise awareness about breast cancer and to get myself fit at the same time. At least I've got until next May to get fit and I'm determined that by that time, I won't be feeling how I am now.

I've just come back from the first session of the Moving On Course. I was quite nervous about attending, worrying about I would break down if I had to introduce myself. It was quite a big group and the speakers and cancer patients were very nice. Everyone was very positive. You didn't need to speak if you didn't want to. I found myself become tearful and emotional as they touch upon certain subjects like your children and how to talk to them. Some of the speakers had been through cancer more than once. It was a mixed but very large group of censer patients.. some had undergone treatment a while ago, some were still undergoing treatment like myself. It was strange to have the conversation opener as 'when was your last treatment, what cancer did you have?'

They hit the nail on the head when they mentioned how after treatment, you feel lost and abandoned, the same feelings that I'm experiencing now. It was mentioned that the most distressing time after diagnosis is when treatment has been completed and you get discharged. The experience was compared to a boat which you sail with your maps and safety gear which gets you through life's storms and then all of a sudden, a hurricane comes along and attacks the boat. The rescue boats come out to help And guide you back onto the right road and then suddenly you're on your own again. It is reality that things will never go back to normal but over the next few weeks, they will help guide you to find your 'new normal'.

To be honest, I've always been sceptical about any course that had any remote references to 'mindful' but I like to think myself as open minded. One of the speakers said that after what he had gone through, he had learnt to say 'yes' more. He said cancer will always be a part of you but don't let it define you. It does make sense but I guess I'm just at the start of this journey and it will be a while before I discover my new normal.

Tamoxifen

2016-10-04T20:15:19Z

I had a follow up appointment with the consultant today. He wasn't surprised with the side effects of chemo catching up on me and also the fatigue from the radiotherapy too, making it worse. My throat is seriously sore and feeling run down but he tells me my immune system is low so I will feel extra rotten. But nonetheless, he congratulated me on completing chemo.

We discussed the next stage which would be a bone density scan and also tamoxifen, which I would need to take for a number of years. He pointed out that tamoxifen had been known to increase the risk of endometrial cancer but the risk was 1 in 4000 and 1 in 2000 after I have been taking the tamoxifen for a few years but he said the benefit to prevent the breast cancer returning outweighed the risk of endometrial cancer which he said is curable if I get it!! Already a risk of heart problems and second cancers caused by chemo and radiotherapy...

He also pointed out that Tamoxifen would likely increase my weight too. No better time than now to get fit I guess.

Radiotherapy - Deep Inspiration Breathe Hold (DIBH)

2016-09-29T19:06:58Z

Radiotherapy is a lot harder than I had anticipated. Practising the Deep Inspiration Breathe Hold (DIBH) does not come naturally.

This Involves holding your breathe for about 20 -30 seconds for each beam you receive. Inflating your lungs, the chest wall expands and pushes the heart away from the area being treated. It is apparently a technique that aims to significantly lower the amount of radiation dose to your lung and heart. I read somewhere that for every 1 Gy of radiation, there is a 7.4% increased risk of eventually developing a major cardiac event (such as a heart attack). I am receiving 40 Gy! The risk is highest among women who get radiation to the left breast since that’s where the heart is located.

Each day I have to hold my breathe 5 times as I get 3 beams from the right and 2 beams from the left. It sounds easy but it takes the radiologists quite a while to make sure you are aligned correctly, while you are lying there arms stretched up and topless. Then they rush out the room while you wait for the instructor to breathe in and hold. Sounds easy enough but the breathe has to be held at the right level, either breathe in a little more or breathe out a little more, get it wrong and you start again. For me, this needs to be done successfully five times over, every day.

Today is my 9th out of 15 sessions. I feel a stitch like pain on my right side (just beneath the rib cage) when I breathe in. Focusing so much on the breathing, I forget to mention this. The sharp pain continues as I make my way home. Pain is only slight, but sharp. When I get home, an hour later, the same pain is also occurring on my left side. A little worried but I'll mention to them tomorrow. I've already got aches and pains, the cording all along my arm, my breast area feeling like it has been punched but the 'stitch' pain is definitely a new one I've not felt before.

Taking a breather...

2016-09-28T12:45:43Z

I have learnt a lot about myself recently. I realised that I thrive on being organised and efficient, I like to plan ahead and tick the box as I go along, always maintaining a degree of control. I like certainty and even when there is uncertainty, I like to know what all my options are. I guess you can think that as being organised or an annoying control freak. Since my diagnosis in April, I was still able to do that to a certain extent, I steamed ahead with booking the lumpectomy, within days of diagnosis. Soon after recovery of the second surgery (having the port inserted), I wanted chemo to start immediately. I wanted the next day but there was no availability! I didn't want a break and to hang around thinking too much. Entering all the dates in the diary gave me control and kept me going.

I am now in the last stage of the treatment process. I thought I had dealt with all the emotions during the first few weeks post diagnosis (i.e. ticked that box) and was ready to dive straight into treatment and resume back to my normal life by Autumn.

I have been made to realised that I have perhaps set my expectations too high for myself. Yes, on the physical side, I could definitely tick the 'complete' boxes as I advanced through the summer, at full speed but the 'emotions' box is definitely not one that can be ticked.

My fears about recurrence, anxiety returning back to my normal routine seem to have come back. Or perhaps they never went away but I was distracted over the summer.

I have been offered a chance to 'see someone' about my personal concerns. This was not something I had considered and I saw it as taken a step back. In everyone's eyes, I was doing 'so well' and I have had so much support from those who love me and care for me that I didn't want to let everyone down. For me personally, I almost saw it as a sign of weakness/failure. Everyone who knows me, knows that I am a relaxed and calm person and the glass is always half full for me, never half empty. It would be me helping to reassure everyone else and resolving their issues. Looks like now I am having difficulty taking my own advice. I know what all the answers are, the lump was discovered early, the aggressive treatment regime is to prevent a recurrence but more recently, this does not seem to be sinking in. My fears:

- What about the spread to the lymph node, it is obviously the type that will spread but what if it spreads further next time?

- mammograms will obviously be only once a year, how will I know if it has come back? I was not able to physical feel the 16mm this time.

- all the internet articles measure life expectancy in 5 year blocks.. My children are only at primary school

- how am I going to manage my former 5.30am - 9.00pm day when I get tired so easily now?

I was advised that speaking to someone who is an expert in this field, will help me address my fears, which will never really go away but at least I can learn to live with them and reduce the level of anxiety. Even speaking to someone about the emotions make me anxious as I have a fear that opening up will put me a couple of steps back whereas I am eager to get on with my life.

I guess that it definitely one I should remove from my 'tick box' list. Emotions are an uncertainty that I will have to learn to live with and asking for help to start acknowledging that, is not a sign of weakness but determination to move on. Talking of moving on, I have also enrolled myself on a 6 session group course called Moving On. I am anxious about appearing very cowardly, being in a room with other people who are probably much more stronger and have had to face a much tougher journey but I will give it a go.

I've never been a 'look at me' person, I always like to focus on making sure everyone else around me is ok and if everyone else is ok then I'm happy but maybe I need to give myself that time now.

Eyelashes and eyebrows...

2016-09-21T20:13:43Z

It's funny how you take eyelashes and eyebrows for granted and you do not miss them until they're actually gone. It is only the last week or so that I started losing my lashes and today I noticed that I have literally one or two lashes left. My eye feels bare and the upper lid is sticking to the lower eyelid since there is no hair. It is the most strangest feeling. I am not getting on too well with false eyelashes ... The eyebrows are non existent but they are fairly easy to pencil in.

Today I picked up more leaflets from the Radiotherapy Centre. I've plucked up the courage and decided to enrol on a course called 'Moving On'. Hopefully it will help ease my current anxieties about trying to get back to normality and to control my fears about recurrence.

There are so many things on my mind, I am wondering if the painful cording on my arm will ever ease, I cringe every time I see it popping out like a massive vein, my port site is healing well externally but inside, where the port was taken out, is still quite sore. I feel like I have put on so much weight since starting chemo in June, hopefully it will not take me 12 weeks to lose it. Also, not forgetting the bald patch at the top of my head. I know looks is not priority, it is not about being vain but for me, it is an important part of trying to find me again and rebuilding the routing/life I had 5 months ago.

Good days, bad days ...

2016-09-18T20:32:30Z

Tomorrow I start the last leg of the treatment plan and commence radiotherapy. After this, I will just need to go for regular checks and pop a pill each day for the next 10 years. Sounds easy.

I've been very open with my two daughters and answer all their questions. I know radiotherapy is non invasive so I show them a clip on YouTube. My little 5 year old says 'ooh mum, are you going to be ok, I'm a little worried about you'.

Earlier we watched a film where a robot was 'dying' (Bicentennial Man). My little one turns round and says, what age people die and how old I was and when I would die. We have watched this together before but I guess this time it hit me hard. I just said, oh people live until about 90 as I wasn't sure what to say. At the back of my mind, I knew my oncologist was probably measuring my survival in blocks of 5 years. Right this moment, I am consumed with fear. It is not the fear of dying but the fear of leaving my little girls, it breaks my heart thinking about it and what I have put them through.

I think today I am feeling tired of trying to be brave. The last 12 weeks of chemo has been so overwhelming and focused on the side effects, I almost forgotten what it was all about. In a few weeks time I will no longer have the daily/weekly contact with the medical team, I will be anxiously waiting for the next check up and meanwhile trying to go back to life as it was before and easing back into work.

I haven't had panic attacks since the weeks following diagnosis. However lately I've been feeling anxious and anxiety sets in as I have all sorts of fears racing through my mind.. My girls, recurrence, settling back to work, facing everyone who thinks I've been brave.

I think trying to be too brave has got the better of me. I am not as brave as I think I am and I feel quite tired. I think I might have to reach out to one of those numbers given to me very early on and talk through my anxieties with someone. I feel so so guilty for feeling this way. After going through a summer of hell, I should be thankful/grateful. There are many out there in a much worse position and I feel so selfish for feeling sorry for myself but I cannot help it today. I'm so grateful, I am surrounded by so much love and support so I can't let everyone down and need to snap out of it. I need to and will pull myself together...

Portacath removed

2016-09-14T17:57:25Z

This is the 4th surgery (lumpectomy, lymph nodes, portacath insertion) and this was the first one done under local anaesthetic and for me, the worst out of all of them I would say.

On admission, I was asked to change into a gown and also put on the surgical stockings. I thought it would be a simple procedure in a doctors room but I was told it would be in theatre. I walked down to the theatre. I was told to fast just incase a general was required. I usually stop at the anaesthetic room where I get knocked out before being wheeled into theatre. This time I actually walked into the theatre room myself. Wobbly legs started kicking in again.

I thought I would be OK and I tried taking deep breaths but I couldn't control my emotions and started to panic. The needle for the local did hurt a lot.. The nurses could see my fear now since I was visibly shaking. The surgeon (same one) said I looked so terrified as if she was going to execute me. I felt sick at the thought of the sharp looking objects to the table on my right, about to enter my port area and how much blood I would see. Fortunately a 'tent' was put up. I didn't feel the pain but a very uncomfortable pulling and tugging. My surgeon was very good and it was almost like a tutorial as she talked through every step. The worst part was hearing the stitches being done. She explained that as they were dissolvable stitches, the texture was more like thick rope rather than cotton, which explains the noise I was hearing as it thread through my skin urgh! I didn't feel the pain but felt the pull and I just wanted to be sick. It was over pretty quickly. I was wheeled out into the recovery room where pressure had to be applied to the area where the tube had been detached from the jugular vein so it would clot. I did have visions of myself bleeding to death as soon as she detached the tube! She also showed me the 'bloodstained' port and tube and I couldn't believe I had such an intrusive object inside me all these months! The port looked like a rubber door stop and the tube seemed to go on forever, no wonder it protruded out my neck.

The pain hits before I'm even back in the room, downside of having local I guess. With the other operations, I had general which I assumed suppressed the pain for the rest of that day.

At least it's out and I will look forward to being able to turn my head towards the right without feeling the tube and not having the seatbelt rub on the port.

The nurses talk about the next appointments and surprised how close everything has been i.e. I only had my last chemo less than a week ago, now port removal and 1st radiotherapy session on Monday. I explained that it was me that was booking everything in so quickly and driving down the fast lane, I just want to get back to being me, back to the routine before April 27th though in reality, I am not sure after all this, how easy that would be. I can only try. Walking out of the hospital, I hope I will never have to return here again for surgery (I go to a different one for check ups and treatment). As nice as this hospital is, I will always associate it with breast cancer related surgery.

Flashback to April

2016-09-12T10:50:37Z

I had my CT scan today before commencing radiotherapy next week.

The radiotherapy centre is opposite the hospital where I first got diagnosed. I did not realise how walking past the hospital would affect me so much. I haven't been past since 27th April. I got annoyed with myself for being so emotionally dramatic and tried to pull myself together.

The pre CT scan assessment was quite emotionally challenging too. The nurse said, so tell me how you got diagnosed, did you find a lump? I found myself getting a little tearful as I explained, even though I talked about it many times over the last few months. Then I watch the usual reaction of surprise followed by reassurance when I tell them that it was a routine health check and they say how lucky I am.

Some days I feel lucky, some days I don't. Today not so much.

They also told me that I would need to hold my breathe in for 25 secs during radiotherapy so that the radiation will avoid my heart (I read up about risk of heart disease etc) so I panic little incase I will do it wrong and don't 'move my heart out the way' properly. Today was just the CT scan, to practise breathing and to place tattoo (I was told this would be permanent) dots on my body so they know where to direct the 'beam' each time. More permanent scars as a reminder. I have the scar from the biopsy, main surgery, lymph node removal, port insertion, port removal (after Wednesday) and now tattooed beam locators. All for a good purpose, I remind myself, a story behind each scar.

Finel chemo session / port removal / radiotherapy

2016-09-08T14:37:32Z

Today I had my last chemo session. I've been looking forward to this day yet on the way there this morning, I started to feel quite emotional. I had got into a routine with the weekly appointment and dare I say, almost use to the side effects.

When I got to the treatment suite, I had the dreaded insertion of the needle into my port. That would (hopefully) be the final time I would use it. I then started to get emotional and sobbed uncontrollably. Reality had struck me again. Since chemo had started, I got so wrapped up with attending the appointment and managing the side efforts, it was all I knew for the last 3 months. I was able to openly talk about the diagnosis, the treatment as if it was just part of my 'norm' . Reality of being struck with cancer only 4 months ago hit me hard again. It was such an emotional and tearful morning.

I am having my port taken out next week. A small procedure and I will be glad to have the foreign body out as its still uncomfortable but I don't particular like the thought of the same wound being opened again and the port to be cut away from the tissue it has been attached to for the last 12 weeks. The thought of having stitches again makes me feel quite nauseous (or maybe that's just the chemo). You'd think I would be used to all this my no but nope, needles, stitches, wounds still make me squirm!

I was told that radiotherapy may make me even more tired and that I could still feel sick. My current side effects i.e the hairloss, numbness in my hands, the fatigue from the chemo will continue for weeks or more and it was suggested I take a little break before starting radiotherapy.

I decided to steam ahead with things in the usual 'Yin' way of doing things. I like certainty, dates to focus on, a timeline. I decided to set things up as quick as I was able to. Last chemo today, port removal surgery next week and start radiotherapy the following week. Tomorrow I will have a CT scan to start the ball rolling.

I need to start thinking about slowly getting my normal life together. I know the way my body feels now, I could not even contemplate the work/home routine I had before but I am determined, I will get there eventually, step by step. I owe it to my dear family and to all my lovely and kind friends who have given me the most amazing support over the last 4 months. I know I cannot control if the cancer will come back or not but hopefully I have done everything I can to reduce the risk. The worst part of this journey has been the fear, fear of the unknown. If it did ever happen again, hopefully that's part of the battle already fought.

Portacath removal

2016-09-04T21:03:39Z

I've now set a date for the removal of my portacath. This will be the following Wednesday after my 12th chemo session and the week before radiotherapy starts. It has never been comfortable but yet it has made my weekly chemo sessions much easier. As much as I don't like having the portacath, I am getting very anxious about having it removed since this time it will he done under local anaesthetic so I will be awake:

'The same area incised for the original insertion is cut for removal of the device. The portacath is then freed from surrounding tissue by dissection and the catheter is removed from the vein.'

This weekend I have been feeling nauseous already from Thursday's chemo session but even more so when I read the above procedure. Not sure how I will cope seeing an incision being made in front of my very own eyes!

Humpty Dumpty

2016-09-01T09:14:42Z

That's the name I've given to myself do we I keep falling. I fell down the stairs again yesterday morning, the third time! This time it was only 2-3 steps towards the bottom so the impact was much less. I landed in on my arm (the bad one) so that was a little uncomfortable. Perhaps I an experiencing numbness in my feet so I'm not feeling the steps well.