A pair of hands and my future.

Today was I suppose a little milestone in a way. Today marked one year to the day that I finished chemo. Time has gone so fast I cannot believe it. As my sister Elaine said ” in the blink of an eye”.

But before the chemo started I had six weeks post surgery to recover. In that time I would be in and out of the Breast Care Clinic to have “the wound” checked, drains removed and sweatin buckets again because let me tell you myself and wounds don’t go too well. 🤮 Now, if it is somebody else’s wound not a bother, I could look at it, clean it, feel it and even hold it together if I had to, being the florance nightingale that I am. BUT! if it is my own personal wound then O No, its then a very different story.

Its not about pain, it’s not about the appearance it’s not because of the reason it is there, it is just because ! The thoughts of a dressing being changed would put me into a state of not knowing whether I wanted to be sick or faint. But it had to be done.

Going into the Breast Care room, hopping up onto the bed and putting on the little blue Cape that us Breast Care patients wear for a little bit of dignity. Open at the front and of course easy for the breast care nurse or surgeon to examine the “wound”.

Lying there hands behind your head your one poor “Lonely Boob” kind of just sitting there minding it’s own business and the wound being felt ( very gently) I may add, me going green and getting dizzy just because 😩. I am normally a very good patient but it got me every time.

And then the day the drains were removed. My fabulous nurse happy that the levels of fluid had reduced enough to take out the drains, put on a dressing and let me on my way. Once again no more pain, no unpleasantness, just the thought of it, and there I am breaking out in a cold sweat. Seems I have a wound phobia, like really? not a flying, closed spaces, heights, spiders, phobia, no in my case ” wounds” 🙈. Sure I would have to be different.

That day with the drains gone brought a new freedom, a huge lift, quite simply delighted and excited to be able to go out and about minus a little cloth pouch attached to the inside of my tops by a safety pin. I wouldn’t have to sit at the side of the bed again, measuring the contents of the container with my husband sitting down, pen in hand writing down the exact mls. What a pleasant task for him!

My husband naturally went to the important appointments with me but my sisters Elaine and Clare would escort me for the routine stuff. So that day both accompanied me and to celebrate this great occasion we went for coffee ( picture included of myself and Clare giving the old thumbs up), and clothes shopping – to buy me a few new tops. Nothing like a new top to put a spring in your step.

And in the weeks that followed getting stronger, but also fairly weak at times. Being able to have a proper shower. As wonderful as they were my showers normally ended up with me calling for help, feeling nauseous, hot and cold sweats and once again lying on my bed in a towel, someone getting me water and me looking at my family knowing how much pain this was causing.

And then the post surgery review. My boob and Lymph Nodes after being dissected and analysed, a stranger looking down a microscope to see how many Lymph Nodes involved in the situation and if the cancer had spread to the ” margins”. Not something I had thought about previously but once again sitting in front of my surgeon I had to hear the results.

Quite a sizeable tumour, in quite a number of Lymph Nodes, tumour close to the chest wall but had not spread to the margins. I didn’t know what the margins were so I had to ask my consultant to explain. And so he did, giving me absolute clarity. Despite everything he was still positive of the outcome, though nothing is guaranteed. Again I asked him if he really thought I had a chance – it’s black or white with me. No grey areas. No fluffing it up. Again he said he was positive ” I am very positive about the future Sinead but you will have to go through the really tough stuff – we need to do our best to reduce the chances of your cancer reaccuring”. I told my surgeon if it was good enough for him then it was good enough for me. I shook his hand and thanked him for what he had done for me. I left the room so happy, focusing on the positives, my Breast Care nurse hugging me. She wished me well. I would see my surgeon again in six months for review but for now I would be put into the hands of the next person in my Team.

It would now be the turn of my Oncologist to do what she thought best, to give me the best type of chemo for my case, for my cancer. I would see her soon, we would discuss my treatment in full, the drugs, their purpose, the schedule, the side effects, the commencement date and finish date – all going well. There was a hell of a lot to come.

This time last year I sat at home, well really lay on the sofa, chemo done and dusted. I never thought that a year later I would be sitting here writing a little blog. I never thought far ahead at all really. I just thought about the day I was in being just grateful that I was alive and well each day, being grateful for the amazing family and friends I had and being eternally grateful for the group of people, my Team, the people who were once strangers but were now of such huge importance in my life, the people who I had to put my faith and trust in, the people who had my future in their hands.