Radium: what is it, and does it hurt?The biggest issue for myself from the Radiotherapy was juggling the treatment with a Job and the commute itself being a daily 5 hour round trip from my house. At this point in the treatment, it felt a lot of people had gotten ‘bored’ of my condition (myself included) and apart from one or two people, the offers to help dried up quite quickly. However, I really did have myself to blame. I played my illness off to a point that my own mother and Nick thought I was ok, It was only when I had to cycle to the train station, catch a train, then a bus, have treatment and then back every day, did my condition start to get me down. Radium is easy compared to chemo, but it does make you tired, so I would not recommend doing daily 5 hour round trips if you can help it. Medication can be more subjective than art, so I do appreciate the time I have had, may not be repeated by those reading which have to go through this. However, I would have killed for someone to have been so thorough with me and give me the exact ugly way this poison works, but please bear in mind I did have the TAX after FEC had already ran through me, so although the symptoms are different, feeling sicker may have just been through long term use. Lets get stuck in!
LOOSING YOURSELF: The Mastectomy and axillary lymph node removalSo, haven’t updated in a while as I have been living my life…
If I knew then, what I know now!So FEC and Tax are different forms of chemotherapy, you guys probably know this by now and if you don't, then where have you been all summer?
Now to be blunt, Tax felt worse for myself... It is known as 'FECs big ugly sister' and with bloody good reason. However, I believe a big part of this, is being hit with the vampire drug after you have been bombarded with FEC 100, so the accumulation of poison in your system is not going to help. If you know someone going through the side effects of chemo, or are tackling them for yourself... (sorry to hear that chick, good luck :), ) I have tried and tested the best symptom hacks and am here to share the with you things that actually work and help you on the road to recovery quicker and so you don't make the same mistakes I did! Round 4 and getting weakerOk, so it has taken me a long time to recover from my fourth round in this sick prolonged cage fight with myself. I had picked up a small virus at the time my white blood cell count was low and got sent into a nearby hospital, for what I can only describe as one of the most horrific shambles I have experienced, leading to a temporary relatively 'minor' breakdown.
Being 'normal' on chemo (Fec)1. Make up routine
I am gearing up to my fourth chemo now and its my first Taxotere, so I have a feeling a lot of what I have gotten used to may be shaken up. However, so far I still have my eyebrows and eyelashes and I couldn't be happier with this little fact. And yet, every day that I decide to wear makeup I find myself carefully manoeuvring around my eyes with a mascara brush, trying to fight the inevitable gentle falling out of my eyelashes. It is more annoying than anything. You get your eyes on point, and then an eyelash decides to drop right into the middle of your pupil, thus making your eyes stream uncontrollably, resulting in you looking like an upset panda. So, the time I have gained from not having to do my hair in the mornings has been swallowed up by the make up routine... 2. Flushes in public My mother has no sympathy for me here, she just exclaims "Welcome to the menopause!", we have a dark sense of humour in my family. On FEC, at the most random times my body decides to burn up to almost near suffocating levels. Now, I can just about cope with this when it happens at night, as I can strip off starkers, in all my bald glory, with all the windows open and the bed to myself with a cold cloth draped pathetically over my face. For anyone out there who has tried a wig on... Imagine trying to carry a sense of decorum in public, whilst out for a meal etc, when an onset, relentless flush becomes determined to sabotage any chance of dignity you have left. Every cell in your body feels like it has hit 100 degrees, and is screaming at you to peel that hot, itchy wig off, along with all your clothes. This happens far too often for my liking, I have to politely excuse myself and go into the cubicle, peel my wig and top half of clothes off and thoroughly wet wipe myself down. Then I always get funny looks for being in there for so long, so then I usually think to myself "What the hell are you looking at? I am going bald in the cubical just to save you from feeling awkward" If it was up to me, I would definitely have my head in the sink. Finding a symptom worth getting checked"How did you know?"
Is probably the most frequent question I am asked the most, in relation to the big C. Even though, I feel we are fully briefed and nagged by mainstream media to carry out monthly checks on our Breasts, I know I am not being deluded when I am assuming most women, especially around my age, do not check. Hell, I was one of them. What took me by surprise, was the fact I could NEVER feel my primary tumour just behind my left nipple, which given its size in relation to my breast is quite ridiculous, really. You would think if you have a B-cup chest, you would certainly feel a large cherry tomato knocking about in there... well no. Apologies for the cynicism here, but I honestly feel we are not warned about just how un-obvious and discreet these changes can be, even if you have 2 tumours, grade 3, stage 2, aggressive cancer... FEC Chemotherapy: what is it?I am one of the lucky buggers that gets to experience FEC chemo and all its horrific ugly charm. Fortunately, I only have to endure FEC for 3 cycles then, I am graduating to its big ugly sister, Docetaxel (Taxotere) for a further 3 cycles.
So, these are some of the questions I have been up against since starting treatment: What is FEC? How is it administered? What the hell does it to to you? FEC comes from the initials of the drugs used:
1. You will get good days, bad days and ugly days
I was always confused by what people ment to say, when they said they had a 'good day' after chemo. Whilst in the slow process of recovering from my third FEC I can tell you, for me, this means getting through the night with more than 3+ hours sleep, accomplishing the day without the severe nausea to the point where I can eat dry pasta and managing to go for a 30 minute walk within 5 days after my 'hit'. An ugly day is basically when you are so whacked you have to take four tries just to finish brushing your teeth in-between 30 minute breaks! 6) MRI Results and Breast centre, round 2So, just about around a week after discussing my treatment plan, I found myself back in the pastel purgatory awaiting my MRI results. Turns out, if it clashes with your monthly friend or if you are as young as myself with oestrogen fuelled C, it can bring back some very questionable results, leading to a lot of short term worry... until they retest you that is. I'm sure I had been exposed to more radiation than Superman within those two weeks.
That being the case, before I was retested with another ultrasound and mammogram I was left in limbo deliberating as to why they were testing me further. I went from being a fairly switched on cancer patient to traumatised mess within 3 hours, as I became convinced I had some super ridiculous, fast spreading cancer and I was going to die. That morning escalated fairly quickly. The 4 stages of HAIR-LOSS
The Indiscriminate big C1. Family History
There was/is nobody in my immediate or distant family with ovarian or breast cancer. 2. Diet I have been a vegetarian on and off for the last 8 years. The last 2 leaning towards vegan when I can. 3. Age I was 23 when discovering the lump, 24 at diagnosis. 4. Crazy Family, Heavy Genes and a Sealed Fate Given my immediate family history of suicides and unusual family tradition. I always thought it was statistically likely my major health worries in life would involve a severe mental breakdown at an older age. 5) Living in Limbo...The prize for the biggest mind rape of your life would have to go to the week you are first diagnosed with cancer.
4) D day (Diagnosis)After spending my last seven days in the sweep of normal life, I felt oddly relieved to be back in between the calm pastel walls of the Breast Centre. I could see Nick's mind was elsewhere as he was uncharacteristically fixated on the the screen above, spouting out the usual breakfast television rubbish. I could feel his hand brushing on the top of my knee as my legs bounced up and down anxiously, as I glanced at each individual slowly disappearing down the coral corridor, wondering what their fate would be and if we would meet again in the 'square' apprehensive waiting room.
3) Pre-diagnosis: The Biopsy"Tassia Haines?", the shrill yet friendly voice startled me so much I nearly let go on the front of my robe, revealing all. I hurriedly grabbed my things and pulled myself toward the small smiling nurse standing in the darkened doorway. Upon entering the Biopsy room, I left behind the friendly pastel of the waiting room and found myself submerged by a very dark grey room, looking up from the floor I was greeted with five nervous pairs of eyes all looking directly at me. They introduced themselves as the Radiographer, the Specialist, my soon to be Consultant, the student and the nurse. All eagerly awaiting for me to strip off and see my ultrasound scan, clipboard in hand. Now was not the time to be shy!
2) Pre-diagnosis: The Breast Centre
It took nearly two months from an urgent referral from my GP, phone calls and letters left and right, until a specialist at the Breast centre finally agreed to give me a once over. It turns out, the chances of getting breast cancer at 24 is extremely rare, but such stats offer little consolation and can actually serve as a hindrance at the pre-diagnosis stage, due to the feeling of doctors sweeping you aside because of the low probability. Regret is an awful thing... the lump under my arm had grown considerably between the discovery in October and diagnosis in March. In hindsight, the breast centre is like how you imagine the child catcher. You are lured into a false sense of security by the cheery colours, friendly staff, easy chit chat and endless cups of tea. Its normality at its best. But behind the facade lies the potential of having to deal with the most negative life changing news, complete with intense insecurity, uncertainty, dull shock and extreme sadness. 1) Pre-diagnosis: Finding the LumpWhy do some women seem to want to ignore the obvious warning signs that their breasts are trying to silently murder them?
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A ' no holds' page about my life with incurable advanced Breast Cancer, in the hope it will give a realistic, detailed account to other young women going through the unfortunate illness.
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September 2023
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