To sum up...

It's finished. At least the hard slog, daily time consuming, life consuming part is over. Now we can finally try to feel our way toward whatever the new normal is. There will be some tablets for the next five years, some regular check ups with doctors and weighing up the pros and cons of reconstruction or further preventative surgery. There will also be the unknown. Am I cured? Did it work? We'll just assume yes. What else can you do?

 Best of all I can concentrate on healing for the first time without the onslaught of the treatment to deal with. How did treatment for illness become so horrific? Hopefully one of our children will deviate from the generation that wants to be models and celebrities and find a kinder cure for this ghastly disease.

My sister went to a good bye party for the mother of a friend who was diagnosed six years ago and chose not to have treatment. I never understood how you could do that before I had the treatment myself. Now I feel differently and can see her point of view too. It may depend on what or who you want to live for. In my case it's mainly who.

I am off for my final radiation zap today. It has become less tolerable over the last two weeks and I am feeling very scorched. It will be a relief to stop doing it. There is the strangest feeling of walking the green mile when you passively walk into these rooms to have bits chopped or irradiated or poisoned. It is a bit like jumping off a cliff to bungy jump. Your brain tells you it's okay and you have to do it but every defensive instinct in your body is screaming," Nooo!"

Yet you smile and make small talk with the lovely technicians and doze off to the music while the machine goes about its merry way decapitating the DNA of any straggler cancer cells. Because in all of this, I am still a mother and lying down still for a few minutes inevitably warrants a nanna nap. (I have been known to nod off during a leg wax!) Ha! Hair removal! Remember that!

I remember somebody telling me it's like using a bomb to kill a  flea. I just hope they have bombed the right spot!

It has been quite the experience, a lot of which I haven't shared with you, but for the record, I am going to put some of it down here now for me and mine, should they ever be curious, to be able to refer to.

Mammogram
Ultrasound 1
Four core biopsies
Four fine needle biopsies (unanaesthetised and failed to get material)
Four more fine needle biopsies from another doctor (anaesthetised, thank you very much, and successful!)
MRI of breasts
Ultrasound 2
Radial mastectomy of the left breast and axillary nodes. (22)
Full body scan
CT scan
MRI of liver
needle aspiration of seroma  under healed wound site (the first of seventeen- so far)
Chemotherapy protocol, three weekly, six times on T.A.C. treatment.
Readmitted once with dehydration for IV fluids and IV maxalon
Ongoing physiotherapy for lymphodoema treatment and lymphatic drainage of seroma
Mapping for radiotherapy
Daily radiotherapy for six weeks for twenty five sessions. Fourteen beams per session to four areas.
Listening to instrumental Andrew Lloyd Webber musak whilst remaining immobile.

Who is this person? I NEVER listen to Andrew Lloyd Webber.

It feels like the end of a long, arduous path. Now there is a wide open place in front of me and the opportunity to step through and find the rest of what life has to offer.

I still had to go see the honkologist again yesterday. It's a bit later than I should have because it took me eight weeks to summon the resolve to walk back into that bloody chemo unit again and make the appointment. It still gives me a very bad feeling passing those doors, even that floor on the elevator.

Then there is the bone density test, a bit more drainage, five years of Tamoxifen tablets, instant menopause, burn healing, visits every few months, annual scans, check ups,  yada, yada... It will hopefully wind down into a new easier life with a different viewpoint and priorities. I just want to get back to being the same person I used to be but don't know if that will ever happen.

There are so many ways to describe all this- journey, experience, battle, ordeal, passage, illness, enlightenment. For now I will just call it 2012, my annus horribilis, and try to move on to resume life beyond the 'C' word.

Thank you all so much for your support and ongoing kindness throughout.
See you in the great beyond.

Bits about Bobs

We had an elderly neighbour called Bob. I may have mentioned him before. We always knew when it was winter because Bob would begin to wear a beanie on his slow, daily pilgrimage from the back stable door to his wife's camellia bush, tea pot in hand. He informed me that as tea was a type of camellia, tea leaves would nurture its roots. It was the only thing in his yard he continued to nurture after his beloved Peg died. He swore he put salt on the grass to stop it growing.

Bob came to mind again when the beanies appeared this week.
I also thought of him at my friend's house last week. She pulled out an ancient wooden game she had found under her own mother's house recently as they packed up decades of belongings.

Her mother was an extraordinary hoarder of the highest quality. They had found a history of hats from aunties and sisters and grandmothers that had been sported at all the big family events in the last eighty years. Well preserved in faded tissue paper and worn hat boxes, they were handed around the wake for the ladies to wear in celebration and remembrance and maybe some fun. She believed her Mum would have loved it.

 Her mother may have also loved watching these little tuppences playing with this old Bobs game that she had saved.

Table bowls if you will! The balls and sticks were all found in different hidey holes so it is now intact again. Circle of life and all that...

        

Round 2- Ding!

Guess where we were again this week? The happy clown feet were back out to cheer me as that is pretty much all you see from the big recliner rocker. Mercifully the wall telly was far away and the treatment only took three and a half hours instead of six and a half. I had wi-fi this time too so there was some Pinterest to peruse.

Chemo heralded the debut of my latest and probably final hairstyle for some time. The day before,  ever cheerful Natalie counted me down slowly through the number four, three, two and one blades. It was too patchy. I had performed too many party tricks for the boys. Do it again Mum! Show them how you can just pull it out! It is good that they are so comfortable about it, no? Fishy had seen an elderly lady reluctant to part with her last strands at the doctor a few weeks back and asked me if I would look like Golem when it fell out. I responded heartily that there would be no Golem hair in this hoose.

It started to come out the day after the last short cut and I held on a week because there was a lot of it to lose but what a pain to tidy up the bathroom each morning. I was moulting like a mangy cat. Fortunately after I left Natalie I had a couple of spare beanies in my bag having just been to the Choices clinic. Big glasses and a beanie....check you have locked up your valuables!
 Shorty announced "My not like your haircut!" I replied, "My not like it either. Shall I grow it back?" She shrugged and went to consult the Noahs. Fishy slapped me on the back and said, "Hey Baldy!" with a big grin, B2 told me I looked like a cool, rock chick and that he really loved it, bless his cotton sox! B1 and Big Fella smiled warmly and reserved the right to silence. Lala asked if she could borrow my beanies.

It felt a bit Velcro-esque with the stubble so Lairy godmother came over with shaving foam and razor and gave me a close shave in the warm Wednesday sunshine. Now it's all smooth and lovely albeit a bit white. Needs a bit of tanning on the deck, methinks.

Liberation from the stubble!

 Yesterday I went back for reflexology at the clinic because they just offer it to you and it is fabulously nurturing even two days after the keeno connection. The rainbow toes are looking a little battered- how metaphorically apt. She said our toenails are the protectors in the reflexology chart so mine are protecting my body with a rainbow. Did Shorty know about that when she asked for rainbow toenails?  Did she do a course when I was out the back?

beanie buddies

Shorty is my first beanie buddy. I made this free form sculptural thing for me then her as I had no pattern and it had a mind of its own size wise. It has morphed into an elfin thing that keeps her ears warm and she wore it all day at kindy. I may need to add embellishments methinks.

I'm a little teapot.

After reflexology I was so whacked I needed a tea and a lie down before driving home so I killed some time in the wig room getting wiggy with it you know. There was the newsreader wig, the goth wig, the sensible mum wig and the Miss piggy long flicky one that I seem to have brought home. The girls can play with my long hair still and I'll keep it for parties and frippery. It seems I am more of a beanie girl, anyhoo. B2 came to City Beach another day to help me choose some headwear as he and his posse will now receive their inheritance in beanies not useless shares!
 There was a variety of headwear at the clinic too. The wrap things are groovy but tight. My skull is not yet used to being swaddled like a colicky infant. Too pink?

 Too Nimbin (although thematically linked to the toes)?

Too Ahsoka Tano? This one has long stripey pigtails that wrap
around. If I could get the Star Wars  warrior woman stride down as well it could work. Or perhaps a pirate earring.

Ahsoka rocks the wig room

Mrs Jack Sparrow

Too Dr Zjivago meets Dr Zeuss? Why then you are poiffect and you shall be mine! It is fluffy and loose and deliciously warm and is so NOT a cancer hat that I liked it at once. It may need a huge crocheted flower pinned on one side. Suggestions?

 Last week when I had coffee for four hours with Girl Wednesday, I saw a yellow bangle in a boutique which I liked but decided I really didn't need. Driving home from the wig out yesterday, feeling nauseous and wrung out, I decided I really DID need a bright yellow bangle. It was for medicinal use only.

Chid bribe included

Ms Lairy and her daughter were there about to indulge in some French patisserie goodness. I could only watch on and consider that that chocolate torte thing had spiral eyes that were not unlike my own by the time I finished a chai latte and oozed home to bed. Two months ago this was not my idea of a girly day out but today I felt sick and still had fun. 'S not so bad!

Is it just me or is this not a spooky- eyed torte?

Head Room

I want this on a T-shirt.... one with flattering gathers over the breastage area. My kids are hugging me a lot and I love it but they need a warning sign sometimes! All my other friends and family are giving me the gentlest hugs like I'm all precious and it's kind of nice!I'm not the only one who's fragile. There have been other casualties. There should be more nanna naps for everyone! I decree it!
At such times the troops have rallied and truly miraculous scenes have unfolded. The Big Fella observed a similarity between the 13 year olds and boa constrictors. I enquired if it was because they were cuddly and he answered that it was more about how they spend their whole day sleeping and eating. He says they appear, dishevelled and yawning to stare blankly into the fridge, until he throws some chicken legs toward them. Then they retreat back down to Boysworld to doze and digest further. This one looks quite repulsed by the tactile quality of wet washing but he warmed up....
and they got a system going. I RAN for the camera to record this most rare event. It's like that flower that blooms in the Amazon for five minutes every fifty years! They emerged, they hung laundry, they retreated.
Yesterday the Big Fella and I enjoyed a 'date' to the very well lit HOCA unit which is not as much fun as the hooka unit we attended together in Marrakesh. We got all the drum on chemo and hair falling out and took a stroll through the chemo 'boutique'. It was a bit like a hairdresser's (ironically) with people chatting and drinking tea. I can do that. He prefers going to Southbank I think.
Afterward we had a post- date tea at the Kim Walters Unit where I was introduced to the wig room. I seem to have ended up with a pixie crop of blonder dimensions than I might usually sport. I don't want to buy a wig for just 18 weeks so this one will do. I feel I may be more of a hat person. The generous and lovely wig librarian let me take some hats to try for bald, wintry months.
This little crochet number might be copy-able into rainbow stripes or some black and white or red and white- Dr Seuss meets Olivia!
Lala looks fabulous as a head model without red eyes and black circles. Yes I need more nanna naps too. She says I can wear any of these and she's okay with it...
but, under no circumstances am I to turn up at school pick up in the jester hat!