Saturday, 26 January 2013

A smack of realism - and a dose of tears.

The last week or so has been up and down in so many ways. The weekend was full of friends and laughter but I was so tired I could hardly keep my eyes open. However I muddled through and cooked dinner for 7 of us on Sunday. On Sunday night I ached so much and my PICC line was giving me problems, I kept taking my temperature - as instructed, and hoped it wouldn't go over 37.5. (Apparently that's when I have to go straight to AAU)  In the end after Hubby nagging I phoned the Primrose unit and was told to go in. If you remember the snow outside was thick and continuous. I weighed up the odds, and against better judgement decided that I would go to bed, take some pain killers and take my temperature every 4 hours. Next morning the hospital rang and told me I had to go in. I made light of it to Hubby who whizzed me in straight to the Primrose unit. My lovely Chemo nurse Helen, took one look at my arm cleaned me up, flushed it through and took some blood - just in case. She then told us we would have to wait an hour for the results - and if positive which she very much doubted I would have to have a scan for Deep Vein Thrombosis this was at 10.30. After a hour the result wasn't in so we waited another 20 minutes before deciding that we would go home as we were sure the result would be fine. Thirty minutes later we were on our way back to the hospital where Andrew dropped me off as the result was positive. I was asked to make my way to the day ward as a scan had been arranged to check where the clot was in my line.  At 5.40 after being told that a scan could not been arranged for that day I was given some Tinzaparin ( blood clotting injections that had to be self administered into my stomach) and discharged.  Andrew picked me back up and on the way home I began to cry and this continued for a couple of hours. I cried on the kids, I cried on the cat, I cried whilst cooking dinner and I cried through eating it. In fact I cried so much I had forgotten what I started crying about in the first place. I couldn't pull myself together, I felt rubbish and if anyone else pulled me about, stabbed me with a needle, or put me through any more pain. I was going to tell them - rather unpleasantly - to leave me alone.  I ached all over, my throat was sore and I was angry, and I couldn't pull myself together. Then on Tuesday I couldn't even be bothered to get out of the bed or answer the phone. Friends text me to see if I was okay, I couldn't be bothered to get off the sofa and reply. In the end after a morning of feeling sorry for myself I managed to get myself in the bath - obviously with my arm wrapped in cling film. Get dressed and do a few things around the house. Kicking myself up the backside was such a major issue, as I just had no energy, ached all over and couldn't even be bothered to eat. Then that afternoon a call came through to say that my CT scan for my chest and abdominal, and my bone and vital organ scan results had come back. They were all normal,  the cancer hadn't spread, in fact as I write this - Drum roll please -  I am cancer free. This time I didn't cry alone hubby cried with me, with relief, with happiness and with the belief that we had a future together and that future was beautiful and bright.

Yet that night when hubby lined all my tablets up and told me I had to inject myself again with the Tinzaparin, I began to cry again. I had bruises on my stomach from the one I had administered the night before and it really hurt. I'd turned into a small child and begged Andrew to do it quick and not hurt me. My God what had become of me!
That night in bed I had to change my pyjamas twice as I woke up soaking wet from sweat. However, the next morning, I got up and felt more normal. I took myself back to the hospital and had a ultrasound scan for the DVT. Now not wanting to sound like a miserable old cow, even the prod of the scanner hurt as the radiologist scanned the PICC line, my armpit, and above my heart. He then proceeded to do my right ride, as you know this is the side that I had the mastectomy on. So prodding and poking under my arm made me cry - again. The nurse that was cleaning the gel off my body, helped me off the bed and gave me a cuddle.   She sent me to the day ward again, where I spoke to a very nice Doctor, who cheered me up immensely - I was okay, there was no DVT the results were good.  I just needed to get my dressing changed again and more importantly I didn't need to administer any more of the Tinzaparin.
Back at the Primrose ward one of the nurses changed my dressing and another nurse came up and asked me how I was getting on, I told her about the tears and  how pants I felt in general, how I had tried to stay strong and couldn't. They both laughed and told me it was perfectly normal and not to be so hard on myself  as I had been through a long process.
The nurse that was changing my dressing, knelt down and congratulated me on coping so well!!! I then learnt that she had been diagnosed as terminal with some little known condition. I asked her to tell me all about it. She confessed that she  had not spoken to anyone regardless of the fact that she was diagnosed two weeks previous. She was 36 years old, had two children aged 6 and 8 and was a single parent. We talked for a while and I was quite frank. I told her about Andrew's Dad and how he had come through 2 lots of different cancer in one year, I then told her about Andrew's uncle who was given 12 months to live 6 months ago, yet in the middle of his chemo his doctor was telling him that he could now book his holiday for next year. Most of all I told her about hope. How so much was being done these days to prolong peoples lives. How she needed to talk to people become armed with all the facts and results then decide what she wanted to do. Lastly I told her how she needed to give herself a pat on the back for coping so well.
 Later that morning I left the Primrose unit with fresh lipstick applied and a different mind set - with not a tear in sight and I haven't cried since. That afternoon I kept an appointment at a venue ( that I nearly cancelled) to be told I had won a contract to head up all their Wedding Fayres . Even though I still didn't feel 100% the next day I went back to work.

Since Wednesday, I have felt good, as a bonus I haven't had to shave my legs or my armpits, as no more hair is growing and even though my eyebrows and eyelashes are beginning to thin already, I remain positive. Next week when it is my sister's 50th birthday party I will probably have to wear one of my wigs - but that' s next week. This week I survived. There is nothing like a great big dose of realism smacking you in the face to make you put your lipstick on, put your shoulders back and get right back on with living.

Friday, 18 January 2013

Feeling Hot Hot Hot!!

Hot flushes - bloody hot flushes, all very well and good when you are out in the cold and the snow, but normally they only happen when your in the warm or tucked up in bed. However,  today I felt one coming on and as luck would have it we went out for a walk all dressed up for battle with the snow, I grabbed hubby's hand and tugged him out the door with a " Quick quick I'm having a hot flush" which was great as it lasted me in the cold for ages, but believe me that doesn't normally happen.  Since November I have been having them and unfortunately whilst having treatment I am unable to take anything for them. I try to ensure I have a cold drink close by, but this just means constant trips to the loo. Oh well....

Anyway, after a nearly uneventful PICC line being popped in at Addenbrooks on Wednesday. Well I say uneventful, I was quite nervous about having this done but like every procedure I've had this is the conversation me and hubby have in the car on route. Him to me " Nervous?" Me " No I have just blocked it out, what do you fancy for tea tonight?" Then we discuss what we fancy to eat and generally have a laugh.   When we got there after a short wait we were booked in and I was given a wrist  tag - a day procedure? I immediately had my stubborn  head on and whispered to hubby that there was no way was I hanging about here all day.  I was shown through to a ward called Recovery and disappointment slumped like a rock in my stomach. I whispered to Andrew " I was expecting to be in and out, why are all these people asleep in beds?"
All pretty soon the lovely Administer Radiographer came along and explained everything to us - again I signed my life away and after donning another gorgeous gown. Which looked rather fetching with my new high heeled boots. We got down to business, off we went to theatre where as always, I did as I was told. I laid down stretched out my arm and cleared my mind. It was all very clinical and apart from the local aesthetic going in a vein where I said " Erm sorry but I'm in a lot of pain, I'm having bad hot cramp like pins and needles going up and down my arm" " Is it going numb?" she enquired " Err no its bloody killing me" I calmly said. So she looked on the ultra scan and immediately took it out- relief - telling me that she had hit a nerve bed. I laughed.  She then tried again elsewhere, again jab with the local, but this time I felt fine. I didn't look as she threaded the line into the needle. Incidentally she measured me up beforehand across the arm and round to just above my heart - where the line would sit,  so she knew how long it was and where she should push it to. There was a little bit of tugging and then she was away. I suppose the whole procedure took around half and hour, in the meantime we chatted like I do to everyone who gives me a procedure -  about our families.Then there was lots of mopping of  blood and it was all finished. She asked me if I wanted to lie down in Recovery, I looked at her and she said " I guess not" Then she sent me down for X Ray to see if the line had been threaded into place correctly. After a bit of a wait, in a crowded waiting area where I looked fantastic in my gown and coat and high heels. I had the X Ray and went back upstairs. After around 10 minutes I was told everything was fine. Given a discharge letter, and one for Bedford Primrose unit. Then I was out of there and off to lunch with the in laws- lovely.

So now I have a perfect working PICC line which apart from the fact that I have to have it flushed through every week at the hospital.  I can't take a shower and have to wash my hair over the bath before I gingerly sit in it, with my arm wrapped in cling film. However, it's great because any other injections, blood tests or fluids that I need to have they just have to unscrew the top and away they go. I'll have this in until May, and obviously it comes with a strict set of instructions regarding infection etc. but apart from a few twinges and a tiny bit of discomfort its all good so far.

The 1st Chemo yesterday was a strange experience to begin with. When we got there we waited nearly two hours before my cocktail of drugs turned up, but I was fed and watered and generally looked after. I did comment to hubby that it looked like God's waiting room.However, my nurse Helen was lovely and we had a great laugh, she spent a great deal of time with me explaining everything in detail. Hubby and I listened in awe and confusion. So much information to take in. As she told me everything she kept popping in drug after drug after drug. Half was through I was busting for a wee, so after a movement of furniture and me dragging the machine I was hooked up to I managed to get there in time - " Oh by the way" she cried out to me, " Your wee will be red. It was, thank god she had told me beforehand!
Suddenly the room started filling up and I recognised the lady next to me, she came from the same town as I, she was there along with her sister.  Double mastectomy and her first lot of chemo as well. She had been up to the wig fitting room and ordered three different wigs, " so her husband could have a different woman every night" we laughed, and things settled down. I felt very comfy - especially when a lovely heat cushion and a blanket was wrapped round me.
 My Breast nurse Rachel popped in and then went in search of my scan results. I told her that as I had received a letter I would be going to the "Keeping Abreast" meetings that were starting next Tuesday night. She sent Alison another Breast nurse who was organising these meetings,  around to have a chat to me. Was I prepared to be a flasher? Damn right I was. If  flashing my breast and talking to other woman who've been or, are about to go through a mastectomy  and have decided to go for a reconstruction. I would happily  flash all day every day if it gave some one back their confidence like it has me. While we were chatting  I also told her what I did as a stylist, and how I could provide free master classes in dressing to boost all these incredibly brave women. She was over the moon to have me on board, and we talked about fashion shows etc. So exciting stuff.
Rachel came back and told me my bone scan results were not in but the CT scan seemed to be clear. I was to call on Tuesday where I could find out for sure.
Helen came back over with two large bags of drugs and a yellow needle bucket. She explained to me about the eight boxes of drugs I had to take every day and gave me a sheet of paper with the instructions on them. Along with some injections for my palettes that have to go into my stomach - which I decided to do myself and not bother the district nurse.
So there I was armed with all this medication and knowledge. Thank god hubby was there. On the way out I was asked to speak to another lady about reconstruction. She showed me her fantastic wig that she was wearing, and she told me that she had not had a reconstruction and she had had both breasts taken away 6 years ago. I asked the nurse to draw the curtains and I flashed her my boob. I talked about the "Keeping Abreast" meeting and asked her to come. I told her quite a few of us would be flashing our breasts and she could see what all the reconstructions look like. She was very interested. So I hope she will come as I think it will give her some much needed confidence.
On the way out I cuddled and kissed everyone and told them I will see them all again for my line flush each week and my chemo in three weeks. I almost felt sorry to leave this lovely warm place, where the nurses were constantly laughing and joking and it was all hustle and bustle with all the comings and goings. For the first time I didn't feel that I was alone in my battle.

As I sit here typing now I am waiting for bad stuff to happen to my body - which no doubt it will, I have been out and stocked up on good food, fruit and vegetables, bought a new toothbrush and moisturised myself to within a inch of my life. I've got a fantastic new wig turned up, I got some nice false eye lashes that are very similar to my own, and templates for new eyebrows. So I am going to make sure I really look after myself as much as I can. At the moment I am having a sick feeling - not all the time. More hot flushes then usual and a headache. So when I do get worst I think I am more than prepared.

I think I am becoming Stronger........and I am becoming proud of myself. Even so roll on May.

Saturday, 12 January 2013

Cars, scans and making plans

This week has been a bit of a mix. First of all - we got a new car, yes it's exciting but I ending up crying as my lovely bright red coupe was part exchanged for the new one. It felt like I was saying goodbye to the old me. Unfortunately I now need a car for comfort and not for speed. The coupe was low down, very sporty and very fast. So unfortunately it had to go. Which brings me on to my hair, I know that in the next fortnight or so it will be gone. Yes I will have a lovely wig, and people won't know. It still doesn't take away the fact that I will be bald. I've tried to keep my spirits up, I've taken photos of myself in different colour wigs and shown the kids, I've tried on different scarves and hats. I just think that when I get through the initial shock of my hair falling out, I'll be fine. In the meantime - I'm sorry but I'm going to have a little rant here. I don't need people telling me to shave it off so I can get used to it. I've had quite a few people suggest this to me - none of them I may add have ever been bald before or had cancer, so they couldn't possibly know how I feel. Quite frankly if I suggested to them to shave their hair off, they would be mortified at the thought. So please, please lovely well meaning people, leave me to know what to do when the time comes. I have spoken in great length about having no hair and going bald to my husband. I asked him if when the time comes could he shave it off. Up until yesterday he told me he couldn't do it. Then when we were up at the hospital we saw a lovely lady around my age who came up and spoke to us as we came out of the Macmillian Primrose unit. She asked if I was going to start chemo soon, we had a long chat, her wig was superb and she looked fantastic.  She told us that she was at the end of her treatment and that she worked all through it - which I was pleased to hear. Incidentally her treatment was the same as mine. She told us, amongst other things that her hair started falling out around 10 days after treatment - but it was not instant as Dr Smith my oncologist had suggested it would be - Yes I know everyone is different. Anyway, she got fed up with it coming out in clumps so she shaved it off. This lady lifted mine and Andrew's spirit's considerably so much so that last night Andrew told me that he couldn't bear to see me like that and he would shave it off for me. We had a cry as even though he cannot understand how much my hair means to me, he hates to see me so upset over it. I'm sure when the time comes, I will grieve for a while and then make the most of all the new wigs I plan on buying.

Now that I'm up and driving again I did suggest to hubby that I could take myself to all my hospital appointments. However, yesterday and Wednesday he drove me to the scans that I had. Wednesday's scan was the polo mint scanner or a CT scan, I've had one of these before so I knew what to expect. Dye is injected into my arm and I am sent in and out of the polo mint with my arms in the air. In this case it was one arm, as I am still not able to lift my right arm up that far for that length of time. The dye goes in to your arm when the scan starts and you feel really hot in certain areas, basically it feels   like you've wet yourself - not attractive but quite painless and it is over before you know it. The scan that I had yesterday was the one I felt a bit wary of as its called a Nuclear Medicine Whole Body and Bone Scan. Basically it scans from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. Again I was given an injection this time it was a radioactivity injection, which was administered a few hours before the scan took place. The injection itself wasn't enough to launch me at a small country, but enough to go around the whole of my body and highlight anything that looks mysterious. This scanner came with its own armrests, and leg rests. Millions of pounds worth, It has two large square like scanners either side of the main scanner both of these fit above and below your body and slowly glide up and down. I had to laugh when I was told that an elastic band had to be placed around my feet to keep them together, however after 20 minutes trying to keep absolutely still, the elastic band did its job. The radiographer stayed with me most of the time rubbing my arm and chatting about everything and anything including our kids. I asked him if he would as I felt quite claustrophobic. As the time ticked by and the scanner did its job he explained everything that was going to happen step by step, thank God he did because at one point I thought I was going to be decapitated. This scan like the one on Wednesday was soon over and I was told Dr Smith would let me know my results of both scans shortly.  I won't pretend that I have not thought about these results a million and one times, I try not to,  but I will admit that since I have been diagnosed this is just something else to worry about and which I've had nightmares and sleepless nights over,  thinking " What if  its spread".....I know that what will be will be, and no amount of worrying will change the end result. However, all I can do is hope and pray that it is contained.

After visiting Rachel my breast care nurse and having a cuddle, we spent a couple of hours walking round shops trying to kill a few hours, before heading back and seeing Mr Javaid my plastic surgeon. This man has done such a fantastic job on my breast, that I nearly cried when we first into his office, he told me how lovely I looked and then he asked me ( and Andrew) if we were happy with my new breast. I told him how over the moon I was. this was after he has shown Andrew how he should give me a breast massage! Surreal! He also suggested that I should have a slight lift on my other breast so that they matched, along with a new nipple. This man is a miracle worker. I suggested he must love his job - he and Andrew smiled in that - silly school boy way. As I further explained - I didn't mean playing with breasts all day, but making women happy by giving them back their breasts? How wonderfully fulfilling it must be. As we left his office smiling and happy, Helen the nurse told me that the work he had done on my breast was the best she had ever seen.

So here we are - next week I should get my results then on Wednesday I am at Addenbrooks having my PICC line put in - which incidentally Andrew and I watched a video of on You Tube. Looks harmless enough............Then the next day on the Thursday it is my first chemo session...... So all in all another hectic week. Still it keeps me busy and out of trouble.

Saturday, 5 January 2013

Who do you think you are?

It seems to me that every day, a letter lands on the mat from the hospital. Appointments for this appointments for that, don't get me wrong the hospitals are very efficient and I know that I am in the safest possible hands. Trouble is when I do see friends and family I feel like I did when I had my children......... What I mean is, I've got nothing else to talk about. Its all about cancer and appointments, and pain and hospitals - I am sooo boring. When I had my kids it was all nappies, and birth details, albeit this was swapped with other new mums - and there is always that competition unwittingly going on of who wins the " most traumatic birth award" all the mums out there will know what I mean. We've all been there - there is always someone who had the worst time giving birth then anyone else on earth - and years later they are still going on about it.
Take for instance my mum - now bear in mind I am 46, not only has she endured the worst birth in the world having my sister, but apparently I nearly finished her off. Don't even mention the word hysterectomy in front of her because 20 odd years ago when she had " the big one" and the doctors messed it up and she nearly died blah blah. I sometime wonder if she every rings me up to ask how I am or to compare notes. Don't get me wrong I am happy for people to tell me their stories - after all some people survive terrible illnesses and I for one take my hat off to them. I'm amazed at people's courage and their complete and utter single mindedness of getting their life back together after months or even years of agony. Look at the summer when we had the Para-Olympics we, along with friends and family sat around in complete and utter amazement -  at the courage and determination of the competitor's,  how they won medal after medal.  No doubt some of them were told they would never walk, see, etc. or even lead a normal life.  I am proud to know people that have told me their stories of illnesses and how their life changed and all the wonderful things they do for good causes. Me well, I ran a marathon nearly 30 years ago - and swore I would never do another. I'm not keen on sport of any kind if I'm honest, although I have done quite a bit of it in my time. The thought of climbing a mountain - drives me to the wine bottle, and those who have parachuted - I am petrified of edges.
However, I want to give something back. Don't get me wrong I don't want to be seen as someone who is going to swing her wig in the air after completing a triathlon, or pose naked for a calender, nipple less on one side. No what I would like to do is what I am good at. Let me explain:

Now for those of you that don't know what I do for a living in 2011 I took my redundancy and set up my company after writing down all the skills I had. Some of them I realised would never make me any money like funny noises I can make with my ear, or making the best - barr none - roast potatoes, rest of my cooking is pretty average to be fair. Or the great way I can dance and throw shapes around the floor in bloody great big high heels - no the skills I had were planning, weddings and events, and weeding wardrobes, along with personal shopping. So I became a Wedding, event and image consultant and Woocandoo was born. I have over the last couple of years, planned great weddings, strange events, and I have come across the most fantastic outfits in women's wardrobes, that they couldn't see. I have saved money - one couple £5000 - on their big day, one lady made £400 from ebaying and dress agencies. All  due to my determination, passion and bloody hard work. I am very proud to say that I am brilliant at my job and I love it. However, at the moment I have become " the lady with breast cancer" no one wants to hire me, as it may be too much for me, or it might be in the middle of treatment, etc etc. Before I went and had my mastectomy, I attended a few appointments with a view to creating a few events, one wedding and a couple of wardrobe weeds. Now I know its probably my own fault as I have written this blog and I have been very honest about the fact that I have breast cancer - but -  I'm not dead, I still answer and look at my work emails, and I'm not going to be ill from chemo for ever. So if you are reading this and you have an outstanding job you think I may be interested in, or you have not replied to my emails or called me back after I have sent you a proposal, then as you can probably imagine I am a tad angry. The cancer does not control me. I am still the same person, I may have lost a breast,  I may be bald next month and I may spend a couple of days feeling a bit pants after chemo, but I am still me. If I can't do the job, I will tell you. If it is inconvenient for me. We can always reschedule as I am not planning on dying anytime soon.

Anyway, I have decided that I am going to write to cancer charities and offer my services for free, as in masterclasses for woman who have been in the same situation as me, I have dealt with ladies that have had mastectomies in the past. So I am damn sure that I can do it now. That utter devastation when you don't feel feminine any more and you haven't a clue what to wear, how to feel sexy in front of your husband ( in your clothes ) and how to look good where people will admire you and your figure, and won't even talk to you about breast cancer. That is what I want to do. So for all you wonderful people out there that have raised money doing some energetic sport, or bared all for charity - I salute you. I may not make any money for cancer research, but I can certainly concentrate on helping woman pick up the pieces when they are at an all time low.

Wednesday, 2 January 2013

Scarves and Wigs and Sausage rolls

After all the fun and jollity's over the Christmas and New Year - in between traipsing up and down to the hospital. I now know the following. My Heart is fine, but my liver is not. So today I have decided to start a detox. That was until the hubby came home with chocolate biscuit cake! To be fair I've only had a mouthful and I have eaten loads of fruit and drank green tea. I figure that my body needs a bit of a rest from gin, wine and everything else I have drank and eaten over the Christmas period.
When I went along to see the oncologist the end of last month I was measured and weighed. Apparently I have lost 1/2 an inch in height and I've put on 2 pounds, since the last time I was weighted. Now I am clueless about the loss of 1/2 an inch, but I certainly know where the 2 pounds came from - and we still have tons of Christmas food left. My only hope is that my son - who eats us out of house and home most of the time and has size 11 boots to fill at the age of 15 - will hoover up everything else that's left including the 10 ton of sausage rolls. When I was in hospital I lost weight, and got a tad thin. Now in less then a month, that's not something I need to worry about.

On New Years Eve I had my heart checked and thankfully its fine. It had to be checked to see if it can handle all the treatment that's going to be thrown at it.  So a Sister Anne called me up today and gave me my next couple of appointments.  Next week I have my bone scan to see if the cancer has spread, then the following week I'm  having my PICC line inserted ( to you and me that's a  long, thin, flexible tube known as a catheter. It is inserted into one of the large veins of the arm near the bend of the elbow. It is then threaded into the vein until the tip sits in a large vein just above the heart.) This will sit in my arm covered in a bandage for the whole of my treatment - so until May time when the Chemo finishes.  However it'll have to be checked on a weekly basis as it is prone to all sorts of problems. Anyway the following day my chemo starts ( 17th January )  I'm going to be receiving - 3 sessions of FEC and 3 Sessions of Docetaxel. Okay,  for those of you that are lost FEC is made up of a combination of 3 difference drugs that along with an anti sickness drug and a saline solution is put into the PICC line at the same sitting - this will last around a hour of so. This is the one that makes me lose my hair. Then after that 3 sessions of Docetaxel a single drug that I have to have steroids with ( the day beforehand) this is the one that'll make me put on weight. So basically come May, I'm going to look bloody gorgeous. 

I did get up this morning and think - I might go back to work next week, but as I've now got my next lot of treatment lined up, I don't think that' s going to happen in the foreseeable future. However, yesterday I drove the car albeit only about a mile or so. It was very strange as I don't have any muscle in my back to support my turning of the wheel etc, so I looked a bit like a learner and reversing was a bit of a nightmare let alone putting my seat belt on, but I did it and I was quite safe. Having said that I don't think I'll be driving too far in the near future but I do feel safe enough to drive up to the supermarket and the local shops. Lets just hope there's a big parking space when I get there -  husband would say nothing new there then, but I wouldn't feel very confident getting into a smaller one at the minute. 

Anyway, I am really pleased with my breast and how it is settling down, its still a bit swollen and sore, but at least I can get myself in and out of the shower without problems now. Although having a bath is a bit of a pain, I have to turn myself into a synchronised swimmer in order to not place too much support on my right hand and arm, but even that's getting better each day. My back is still very sore but at least I can now touch it. Still can't feel any thing in certain parts of the breast and armpit but I am getting a tingling sensation when I do touch it. I am sure that at some point I will discuss with my plastic surgeon about having a new nipple tattooed on, but I am not worried about one at the moment. 

In general today is a good day. I had a little bit of a cry earlier after the Sister phoned me up, but I'm getting used to the hospital calling me, or letters from them landing on the mat. I've got 9 days before I have my next hospital appointment although my wig fitting should be in the next week or so. I've also sorted out a few hats and scarves to wear.
In the meantime, I've worked out if everything goes to plan and I remain strong throughout the sessions. I can still go to our friend's Andrew and Karen's wedding in June in Ibiza. Its a tight time line but I remain positive. Also I've worked out that family and friends birthday's and other events I've got coming up in the next couple of months fall in between chemo so hopefully I should be well enough for these. All I need is my pink wig and some elasticated trousers and I'll be all set!