2011 is going to be a better year

My body is detoxing and trying to readjust to a life without the chemo drugs. I wonder how long it will take to get back to normal, a month, six months, a year? My digestive tract is still a bit of a mess, my nails are very sore and yellow (I wonder if they are going to fall off or not and if yes, does it hurt? How will it look like? How long does it take to grow back?), my skin is so dry it seems it is going to crack at any moment, I have lost all my hair, except for 10 eyebrows and about 5 eyelashes (yes, I counted them!), which I am sure will abandon me in the coming days, making me look even more weird and sickish. I am so aware of the way I look now, I wish mirrors didn’t exist. Between chemo sessions some baby hair always grows on my head, weak, colourless and very scarce hair which looks nothing like my old hair. Now I look in the mirror every day hoping to see my dark strong hair growing back. I want to go back to work in January or February and I would prefer to go back without a scarf covering my head. I am tired beyond believe and so out of shape that yesterday I could hardly walk up the mountain to enjoy the view over Moledo. My muscles ache and my joints like to complain as well. I feel like an old lady.

During these days in Portugal I have been eating a lot more and haven’t been following my diet. I feel guilty and I must get back on the right track. But it is irresistible, there’re so many nice things, so many temptations, I just can’t resist. Of course I then suffer the consequences, like having indigestions, tummy pain, feeling tired and without energy, and sleeping badly.

I desperately need to start exercising regularly, but I just learned that I can’t swim during radiotherapy because the chloride may irritate the skin. I can’t practice any sport that makes me sweat too much either for the same reason. I can’t play badminton because my arm still hurts (the cording comes back from time to time) so I will try yoga, pilates or any other quiet sport.

Emotionally I feel good. I am a bit apprehensive about starting radiotherapy, fear of the unknown I guess, and anxious about reconstruction, with another surgery, another stay in the hospital. I can’t wait for all this to be over.

As soon as I get home I will hang the 2011 calendar in the kitchen and remove the 2010 one. The good thing about having a bad year is knowing that the following year can only be better.

What I had hoped for 2010 didn’t happen. I wanted to have a baby but instead I got cancer. Unfortunately the opposite doesn’t work, if I wish for cancer I will still not get a baby. So all I am going to wish for is that I have a calm year, actually I wouldn’t mind having a boring year, an eventless year.

I hope 2011 will be a good year not just for me, but for all of you as well. HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Winter in London vs. Winter in Espinho

 When we left London our street looked like this:  

And on Christmas day Espinho looked like this, clear blue sky:

Radiotherapy

Last Thursday I had my first appointment with the oncologist to discuss the radiotherapy treatment. I really liked this doctor, she was very communicative and gave me all the information I needed, even before I had the chance to ask anything.

I will be having 25 fractions, every day from Monday to Friday. No start date has been set yet but it should be somewhere during the second week of January.

The radiotherapy planning will start in the first week of January. I’ll be having a CT scan and three little dots tattooed on my chest which will help position the machine and make sure the same area is treated every time. With the help of a simulator the radiographer will collect data which will allow him find the correct position for the treatment and ensure the right area is treated every time. The machine has to be positioned as accurately as possible to avoid treating healthy tissue. This doesn’t sound like something that can be done in 5 minutes so I guess I will have to lie very still for quite some time. I hope I can listen to some music or take a nap.

Radiotherapy is in itself painless, but there are some side effects such as lethargy and skin burns. All I know is that it is much lighter than chemotherapy and that is what I wanted to hear.

In the meantime I have a couple of weeks off to enjoy and relax. No more hospitals, clinics, nurses, doctors, serious conversations and decisions to make until next year.

I had enough

Lately I’ve been feeling a bit like a human needle cushion. I never really had any problems with needles, I don’t get impressed, dizzy or feel much pain, but I got to a point now where I cannot stand them anymore. This year I’ve had more needles inserted in my body than in my whole life.

It all began with the blood tests, biopsies and MRI’s (yes, there’s a needle involved here too, an injection of a contrast agent into the bloodstream). Then there were the surgeries and anaesthesias, five this year alone. And let’s not forget the daily injections of fertility drugs, actually twice a day, I had to administer for two weeks. Chemo, of course, was the last drop, with countless blood tests, injections and intravenous treatments. During chemo my poor veins refused to cooperate any longer, my left arm felt like a junky’s arm, and I am so glad I have a port now, it makes things so much easier, faster and painless. In fact, the port looks a bit like an actual needle cushion and it can be used for drawing blood and administering drugs. Although it is very practical, it means some extra needle pricks as it requires some maintenance. It has to be flushed regularly to prevent clotting and occlusion.

Now on top of having blood drawn almost every week, I started having acupuncture to try to relieve some of the side effects of chemotherapy. Great, more needles! I don't know what crossed my mind, I should instead stay quietly at home healing and resting.

I don’t have a needle phobia yet but I don’t wish to see a needle, syringe, blood, infusion bag or catheter in the next couple of weeks (I would like to say months but I know it is unrealistic!).

Mastectomy fashion

If shopping for a wig made me feel depressed, imagine how I felt after trying to buy a bikini!

Last week I gained courage and went to a shop specialized in mastectomy wear to buy a bikini. I was in a good mood and feeling confident, but once I left the shop my self esteem was pretty much destroyed.

I was very disappointed by the choice available, most swimwear seem to be designed for 50 plus ladies with big breasts and no taste. Young and small-breasted women also get cancer, it's not fair! Only one of the swimsuits was the right size for me, which meant choosing the style and pattern was out of the question. And finding a bikini was even worse, they all looked like out of fashion tankinis. Feeling frustrated but trying to keep a positive attitude, I decided to get the not so pretty swimsuit, at least I can go swimming now.

Then it came the second disappointment: the swim prosthesis. I knew already from previous experience that finding the right prosthesis is complicated. After my surgery, the hospital nurses had to run around town to find one the right size and shape for me and I can't thank them enough for that, because since then I haven't been able to find any other prosthesis that fits me so well. In fact, in one of my attempts to buy a new prosthesis I realized that most women have huge boobs (or that I have tinny boobs!). All the prosthesis were too big for me and the only one I could actually wear had been originally made for lumpectomies, not mastectomies. Again, not fair!

So, for the swimsuit I needed a swim prosthesis and once again I had to hear: "you're petit, not sure if we have anything your size". I could eat the sales woman alive! I am sure I am not the only cup A breast cancer patient in London!

I left the shop with the not so pretty swimsuit, not so perfect prosthesis and an incredible desire to eat chocolate.

But I won't give up, when the spring collection arrives I will go shopping again. I am sure I will be able to find something I like and feel confident wearing.

Having a mastectomy is traumatic and not being able to feel normal only makes it worse.

6 down.. and done with chemo. Hurray!

The day yesterday went by so quickly I hardly had time to enjoy the fact that it was my last chemotherapy treatment. S. and I arrived at the clinic early, I sat on my favourite chair and the nurses started the treatment right after. My friend J., with her always cheerful smile, came to keep us company and she brought me a box of Green & Blacks chocolates that I so desperately needed and really enjoyed (there goes my diet!). By noon I was done. S. and I had lunch and went to meet the oncologist at 1pm. We discussed the next steps: hormone therapy (tamoxifen) and radiotherapy, she went through the side effects and how to manage them. If all goes according to plan, next week I will meet the radiologist and start taking the tamoxifen.

As it was my last chemo and the nurses and all other staff have been so amazing, I wanted to give them something. One of the nurses had mentioned before that they always get bonbons and cakes, so I wanted to bring something different. I thought of an organic fruit basket, at least it would be healthy, but healthy is not fun. Instead I decided to make the Dutch Christmas cookies (speculaas and boterkoekjes) my mother has always made at home for Christmas. I spent two afternoons in the kitchen but it was worth it, they looked and tasted good. I hope they all enjoyed it too.

I brought a "souvenir" with me, the arm band I wore at the clinic.

From the clinic I also brought the usual goodie bag. Can't wait to stop filling my poor body with all these medicines.

On my first chemo day, before treatment started my mother took me a picture. Yesterday, before my last chemo treatment started S. also took me a picture (already with the needle and the catheter sticking out of my blouse!).

26 August 2010
The old me: still with thick brown hair, full eyebrows and eyelashes, healthy colour and energetic.



10 December 2010
The chemo me: no hair, barely any eyebrows and eyelashes
and in need of some sun and rest.

I will only consider chemotherapy as finished once the side effects disappear, at least the most unpleasant and debilitating ones. Today, apart from not being able to sleep and feeling slightly nauseous, I am ok. Experience tells me that the worse will hit me on the 3rd day of the cycle.

Chemotherapy is horrible but I guess it is better than having cancer. Chemotherapy made me feel weak, exhausted beyond believe, nauseous, dizzy, emotionally drained, made me lose my hair, ruined my nails, gave me an itchy sore scalp, my skin got dry, gave me mouth ulcers and dry mouth, gave me watery eyes and a bleeding nose, gave me an annoying noise and a throbbing vein in my ear, gave me unpleasant headaches, gave me brown spots on my skin, gave me phlebitis, gave me terrible bone pain, muscle pain and joint pain, made me lose my concentration, gave me insomnias, made me lose my appetite, gave me heartburn, colic and indigestion, made me have severe constipation and severe diarrhoea, weakened my immune system and most probably damaged my ovaries leaving me infertile. Did I forget anything? However, even though the list is long, it is better than cancer!

My blood counts have been falling with each cycle. My white blood cell count and neutrophil count are quite low at the moment. I just hope they don't get any lower and that I don't get any infections or other complications. On the 19th of Dec. we are supposed to fly to Portugal to spend Christmas and New Year's there. And I really want to go, I've been looking forward to getting away and being with my family and friends for months.

I can't wait to go back to a more normal life, to my old life if possible. My head is full of plans for 2011, starting with a relaxed holiday somewhere, going to the gym more regularly, meeting people without being afraid of feeling sick just hours before leaving home, going back to work, being able to concentrate on anything for more than one minute and enjoying life in general.

I will be staring into the mirror every day checking for any signs of hair growth. Once I get enough hair to cover my scalp, I will stop wearing scarves and hats. I am curious if it will grow weak, curly and grey or just like my old dark brown, straight, strong hair. Can't wait to have my first haircut.

Today is exactly six months since my diagnosis. Not sure yet how I feel about it. Tired, I guess.

When you’re living with cancer, what makes a good day? *

Exactly what I needed to cheer me up before getting nauseous (nauseous from the chemo not the chocolates!).

* Phrase stolen from Macmillan's Good Day campaign: "When you're living with cancer, the difference between a good day and a bad day can often come down to really small things." http://www.macmillan.org.uk/GetInvolved/Brand/TakeAction.aspx

My last chemo eve

Tomorrow I have my last chemotherapy treatment. Where did the last few months go?

I know I should be happy but no, I am scared. It took me a while to understand why I am feeling scared instead of relieved, I realized I am afraid cancer is not gone and knowing that if it comes back it will not be curable freaks me out (secondary/metastatic breast cancer is not curable). I know I have great chances of being already cancer free and that is how I see things most of the time, but my subconscious is worried about suffering and dying.  Yep, I am only human and I don't want to suffer more and die young.
There's more battles in this war, radiotherapy will start soon and maybe that will make me feel safe again. And there's hormone therapy too and other things that can be done to prevent cancer from coming back like maintaining a healthy lifestyle.

In this post I also want to thank everyone who has been there for me and who go out of their way to encourage me and show their support. A special mention to my sweet husband, to my fantastic sisters and their lovely men, to the best mother in the world, mine, to my friends J., S. and J., to my cousin J., to my aunt A., to the family friend L. and to all my Banif ex-colleagues. I feel touched and emotional. And I am amazed how good people around me are. People with a good heart. If I forgot anyone important, please remember that chemo brain exists!.

My rule number one on how to cope with cancer is: ensure you have a good support network around you.

Ah, I knew I would forget someone: all hospital and clinic staff also deserve a mention.

When you’re living with cancer, what makes a good day? *

Little treats can make life so much sweeter.

A nice way to relax before going to bed.

* Phrase stolen from Macmillan's Good Day campaign: "When you're living with cancer, the difference between a good day and a bad day can often come down to really small things." http://www.macmillan.org.uk/GetInvolved/Brand/TakeAction.aspx 

Help, my glass is almost empty!

I haven’t been much in the mood to write lately, mainly because I haven’t been feeling too well but also because there’s not much to report. In short, my sister C. was here for two weeks which was great and despite the bone pain and the snow we managed to do some nice things together, my internet connexion was down for almost a week and made me realise how much I need it, I had high temperature and got very worried (it ended up being nothing to worry about), I went to see the surgeon and all seems to be well, I fell down the stairs (I hate snow!) and got the biggest bruise I have ever seen in my life, it is the most painful bruise I have ever had too (not to mention the embarrassment of falling in front of strangers) and considering my platelet count, I wonder how long it will take to heal.

I am having a hard time with chemo. I try to ignore the side effects and have a life as normal as possible but the truth is I feel sick all the time and I am exhausted. I put all my energy into not having a meltdown, staying strong and focussing on simple daily activities. All I want is to feel good for at least one day. Since the last chemo session I have been feeling pretty bad, both physically and emotionally. The bone pain didn’t really go away this time, I have trouble sleeping, my whole digestive system is torturing me, my skin is full of brown spots, my eyes are red and tired (I barely have any eyelashes now, my eyes are irritated and tears fall down my face non-stop), my nails look miserable and are sore (are they going to fall?) and the noise in my ear is not getting any better. I hate the way I look and even though people keep telling me I don’t look that bad, I have difficulties recognizing my face in the mirror, it makes me very sad. I am exhausted and can’t sleep at night. I am worried all the time and there’s nothing that can help me relax. My body changed so much in the past six months and I am in such bad shape it makes me realise how healthy I was before.

This Friday I have my last chemo session but somehow I don’t feel happy about it. It’s hard to explain but having chemotherapy gives me the feeling I am fighting cancer. Once chemo is over I am afraid that if one stupid cancer cell managed to survive this horrible treatment, it will start multiplying and form a tumour somewhere else. Without chemotherapy it is like if I am not fighting anymore. I make an effort not to think about it but the fear of recurrence is always there. It will always be there. Every time I have an appointment with the surgeon or the oncologist I get extremely anxious. I am always afraid they will find something and have bad news to give me. When the surgeon checks my chest, tummy, glands and back I can’t stop thinking he might find something that shouldn’t be there. It is scary. What I find scary as well is starting a new treatment and changing my daily routine. Soon I will start radiotherapy and hormone therapy which is supposed to be a lot easier than chemotherapy. Looking on the bright side, my hair will start growing back, I will feel less sick, I might be able to go back to work, my short-term memory and ability to concentrate will return, my taste buds will go back to normal and most important of all I will stop poisoning my poor tired body. I dream with a detox holiday after all this is over. I want to clean my body from all these drugs and get back in shape. Maybe who knows even run a marathon! Hummm, now that I think of it, running a marathon is probably as traumatic as chemotherapy, I never liked running.

I look forward to the end of all this. I can’t wait to hear the words “you are cancer free”. Unfortunately for the next five years I will be in remission, not cancer free. A long wait still...

As I said, chemo is hard and I am glad it will soon be over. But it is very demoralising to know that until Friday morning I will be feeling relatively ok and then 12 hours later I will be feeling miserable, sick and in pain again. Until recently I thought I had a high pain threshold but since I experienced bone pain I think differently. For the first time I had to use the term unbearable pain and ask for stronger painkillers. Long live Tramadol!

All I can do lately is whine. I cry more and I smile less. Being a cancer patient is not easy but being around one is not a piece of cake either. I feel sorry for my husband, family and close friends, but I really appreciate all the support they have been giving me. Without them all this would be a lot harder.

My first acupuncture treatment

I have always wanted to try acupuncture and was really pleased when my health insurance confirmed I was covered in full.

With each chemotherapy session I have been feeling worse and worse and I am running out of energy and patience to deal with the side effects. I love massages, it really relaxes me and makes me feel good but unfortunately a good massage in a decent place is quite expensive and it is not covered by the insurance. It is a shame massages are not considered complementary therapy. I was looking for something that could help improve my general wellbeing and after some recommendations and some consideration, I’ve decided to make my first appointment with an acupuncturist. The first appointment was last Thursday and I will be going there once a week.

I don’t expect miracles but I am hoping it will help lessen the annoying noise in my ear caused by the throbbing vein and relieve the nausea, headaches, pain, insomnia and fatigue. As I don’t have high expectations, any benefit will be a very positive outcome. In fact, right after the first session, the throbbing vein was no longer there. It was back the next day but even a short-term benefit is welcome.

The session started with a questionnaire about my medical condition, diet, emotional state and sleeping pattern. She checked my pulse and the colour and coating of my tongue and explained me how the treatment was going to be like. The atmosphere was very relaxing and friendly. I then laid down and she inserted needles on my feet, ankles and lower legs, hands, wrists and lower arms and head. It didn’t hurt at all, I just felt a light tingling. She left the room for about five to ten minutes, leaving me to relax. And it really was very relaxing to lay there in silence. When she returned she gave me a pressure point massage on my neck and shoulders, which was simply amazing. I loved it and I believe it helped me feeling relaxed.

I don’t know much about acupuncture and I think I am going to buy a book about it to understand better how it works.

During the acupuncture session I had fun imagining a voodoo doll not of myself but of cancer, almost like if it was possible to personify cancer, turning it into a doll and sticking some needles into it, not to treat but to kill.

I know acupuncture will not end the pain, nausea, fatigue, etc but I liked the way I felt afterwards: relaxed. Feeling relaxed is a luxury for me. Since this cancer era started, only in very few occasions I felt relaxed and good. If stress in a risk factor for cancer, I think we can say that cancer itself is cancerigenous and since I have never had so much stress in my life like now, I am exposing myself to an undesired risk. If I can learn how to deal with stress and start relaxing more, I am sure it will only do me good.

Going through chemotherapy is anything but glamorous

Using my oncologist’s words, going through chemotherapy is anything but glamorous. After five rounds of chemotherapy, I feel like there’s very little of the old me left. I have no hair and only about 10 eyelashes and 20 eyebrows left. I have deep rings and new wrinkles around my eyes, pale and dry skin, no cheeks and grey lips. Currently there’s no make-up, hat or scarf that can hide that I am a cancer patient. I have a constant and incontrollable running nose and occasional nose bleeds, usually in the most inconvenient moments. My eyes are always wet with tears running down my face. I am always tired and complaining about something: excruciating bone pain, belly pain, headaches or of being unwell or indisposed. I can’t eat this, I can’t eat that. I am forgetful and repetitive.

Yesterday while washing my hands in the bathroom, I looked up and saw a reflection in the mirror, I looked down again but had to look up once more to confirm that the thin pale tired face I saw was actually me. Chemotherapy is a cruel treatment. It can so easily destroy one’s self-esteem. It’s not just the length of the treatment and the unpleasant, painful and debilitating side effects that are emotionally draining, it’s also having to accept that the image you have of yourself is not the image you see reflected in the mirror anymore.

5 down, 1 more to go

In general it was a chemo session like all the others. The highlight was my friend J.’s visit, which I loved and really appreciated, although my state of stress and anxiety probably didn’t make me the best company in the world yesterday. I wasn’t very chatty. I don’t know why I let myself get so down every time I have chemo. I should be stronger than that. It must be knowing what comes with it: pain, nausea, discomfort, fatigue, fear, worries, hair loss, nose bleeds, headaches, etc.

I normally have chemo on Thursdays, which is a quiet day at the Chemotherapy Day Unit, but this week I had it on Friday, apparently the busiest day there. It was noisy with all the machines beeping at the same time and people constantly walking around and chatting. It made me really tired. I was glad when it was over. As I was feeling relieved to be out of there and still feeling strong, S. and I decided to go for a scone at Le Pain Quotidien and to a furniture shop where we bought a lamp before heading home.

Today I feel ok, just very tired.

One thing is bothering me though, the blood tests show that I am slightly anaemic and I was advised to eat more red meat and other food rich in iron. I hope the levels don’t get any lower otherwise I will be one step closer to getting a blood transfusion. Not really what I need right now.

Have to go, there’s a delicious iron-rich dinner prepared by my beloved husband waiting for me.

Chemo day

Here I am, feeling miserable and sorry for myself. I hardly slept and feel very anxious.

The only thing I can think of is swear words and expressions, in Portuguese which is still my favourite language to swear. I am actually quite amazed at the length of the list of swear words I could put together, but to avoid having to affix a warning such as “Parental Advisory, Explicit Content” I will instead post this: @#*~~ÄßhNDML~Ú!$*@”.

One thing I have to mention is that I had a lovely day yesterday. It was so nice I even forgot about the fact that yesterday the nurse could not find a cooperative vein for the pre-chemo tests and only after four attempts and fiddling around with the needdle for a couple of minutes, which by the way didn't hurt but made me turn pale almost green, she decided to draw the blood sample from the portacath. Wise decision. My veins collapsed completely. As I was stressing a little bit too much these last few days, S. took the day off yesterday and we spent the day together doing only nice stuff: we had a delicious lunch, went to a nice exhibition, had a very tasty dinner and then went to a nice modern dance performance at Sadler's Wells with J., who had the great idea of inviting us to join her. Merci à tous les deux.

Il était une fois... la vie

Do you remember this cartoon? I used to watch it when I was little and I loved it.
I hope Professor Globo and the Police Force are ready for the hard work that is coming... chemo is already this Friday :(

Quantitative Easing Explained by Furry Animals

This is quite a good lesson in the American economic crisis.
A bit monotone but some good humour in here... worth watching until the end.

Fela!

Fela Kuti was an interesting and controversial man. He was a multi-instrumentalist musician, composer, dancer, founder of Afro-beat, protest singer, revolutionary, political activist, polygamist and dope smoker. He founded a commune called the Kalakuta Republic and declared independence from the repressive Nigerian state, and began his own political party: MOP - Movement of the People. For his outspoken criticism of the government and military he was harassed, beaten, tortured and jailed. But above all he was a great musician.

It was with this in mind that I went to see the show Fela!, a Broadway musical. I don’t normally like musicals and this one was no exception. The story was lost and hard to follow and the music was not as powerful as it should have been. The choreography and dancers were great and I liked the fact that the stage was made to look like his Shrine, with the actors dancing on stage and through the aisles, as the stage extended throughout the seats. The actor playing Fela tried to give a dance lesson but honestly, the majority of the audience was white and white men’s hips cannot move like the African booties. I was disappointed because I thought I was going to enjoy an amazing musical event and it ended up being a boring very American show.

Hopefully next week’s concert of Fela Kuti’s son, Femi Kuti, will be a lot better.

Buddha Collapsed Out of Shame

A film by Hana Makhmalbaf who was only 19 years old when she wrote and directed it (Iran 2007). It is an unsentimental film with some disturbing scenes about a little girl determined to go to school. She is heartbreaking. When the film ended I was not sure if I was full of hope or desperate. Worth seeing.

Do I really need chemo?

Several people have asked me why I need chemotherapy and radiotherapy if there are no signs that the cancer has spread. The main reason is because breast cancer can recur at any time, it can come back as a local recurrence (in the treated breast or near the mastectomy scar) or as a distant recurrence somewhere else in the body. The most common sites of recurrence are the lymph nodes, bones, liver or lungs. There are several indicators that can predict recurrence and it is based on these indicators that the type of treatment after surgery is determined. In my case, although my lymph nodes appear to be clear and the tumour was oestrogen receptor positive (which tend to respond well to hormone therapy), the tumour was big and it was a grade 3 tumour (abnormal and faster growing cells) which indicates a greater the chance of recurrence. So, considering all this, the potential benefits of chemotherapy and radiotherapy outweighs its horrible side effects.

I like to believe that all cancer cells have been removed with surgery, but I want to make sure I live healthy for as long possible and that is why I agreed to have chemotherapy, radiotherapy and hormone therapy.

Same same but different




May this year, before diagnosis

  

Yesteday, halfway through chemo











The Way Home

Written and directed by Jeong-hyang Lee (South Korea, 2002), it is a touching story about a spoiled city boy who is sent off to the rural mountains where his grandmother lives. The story, although predictable, is sweet, as well as funny and sad at the same time.

Did you go to the gym today?

Yes, I finally beat my laziness, and went to the gym! Last time I had been to the gym was in August, before chemo started. I know it is important to exercise at least a little, even when I am unwell but apart from my daily walks I haven’t been doing much. Even most of the housework has been delegated to the cleaning lady and to my husband. And it was thanks to S. that I went to the gym yesterday. He has been reminding me daily that exercising would do me good, I know he is right so I stopped using tiredness and sickness as an excuse and went. The oncologist also mentioned that some light exercise could reduce fatigue and so do all brochures about cancer and chemotherapy. I have to admit it made me feel good and I am definitely going on a regular basis now. I promise. I am not going to lift weights or cycle like crazy, but some 15 minutes on the cross trainer, 15 minutes on the bicycle, some arm and leg exercises, stretching and that’s it.

I am so out of shape, I feel like if all my muscles are gone. And I get breathless so quickly. After chemo and radiotherapy are finished I am going to get a personal trainer to help me get back in shape. I always exercised and it always made me feel good. I want to feel good again.

Distant Dreams - Nitin Sawhney featuring Roxanne Tataei

Medical choices

Choosing a specialist in a foreign country is difficult. Before being diagnosed with cancer I knew very little about the UK health system but wanted to make sure I made the right choices for me. I wanted to choose a good specialist and a good hospital. I did some research online and when I came across the profile of my current breast surgeon/surgical oncologist I knew I wanted to be his patient. Going to the doctor has always been something I disliked, very often I don’t feel comfortable so having someone I trusted was essential.

He is one of the pioneers in sentinel lymph node biopsy and the first surgeon in the UK to perform endoscopic mastectomies. I like innovative and skilled people. An endoscopic mastectomy is performed by making a small opening around the axilla through which surgery on the armpit can also be performed (sentinel lymph node biopsy). A small camera is then placed through this opening and the operation is performed under direct vision. The breast tissue is removed via a scar around the areola of the breast. The advantage of this procedure is that there is minimal scarring on the breast with a potentially better cosmetic outcome. However, this procedure is only suitable for patients who have early breast cancer and who have small size breasts (cup A or B), like me. This type of surgery not only leaves minimal scarring but also spares the breast tissue and the nipple.

It took me some time to decide on the type of surgery, but once I did, I had no doubts it was what I wanted. I was very happy with the results and I wish more women could have access to the same type of surgery. Unfortunately in my case I needed a second surgery to clear the margins which meant removing the nipple. After the first surgery, the lab tests done to the tissue removed raised doubts whether the margins were clear. Almost without hesitating I agreed with the doctor to have a second surgery to clear the margins. The original tumour was too close to the nipple and because I have small breasts and not much fat, it was a safer option to remove it.

I chose not to have immediate reconstruction because I knew I was going to have radiotherapy, which may affect the skin and the implant. Sometimes I consider not having reconstruction at all. I feel good about the way I look now and I am afraid that the reconstruction will not meet my expectations. There is a chance I will need to remove the other breast because of the type of cancer I have and the increased chances of having recurrent cancer, and in that case I will definitely have reconstruction. I have finally the chance to upgrade my mosquito bites into Bombay mangoes and even so I am pretty sure I will go for the same model, to make me feel like the old me. But that is something to consider next year: first chemotherapy, then radiotherapy, then eventually another mastectomy and reconstruction. One thing at the time.

Before I was diagnosed, I hardly knew anything about cancer. To start with I had no idea that it could affect my fertility and that I would be under treatments for at least 5 years. Another important medical decision we had to make was whether to have fertility treatment to allow us to freeze some embryos or not. Following my surgeon suggestion and after doing some research, I chose an oncologist who is very active in clinical trials and has a particular interest in young women with breast cancer and fertility related issues. She had no objection to having one round of fertility treatment, so after long consideration and a lot of tears, we decided to go ahead. I am aware that my chances of ever becoming a biological mother are extremely slim, I will most likely never have children, but I want to feel like I am doing all I can to leave as many doors open as possible. It is hard to explain why I want to have a family, but I think it would make me happy and that is enough for me.

With chemotherapy I wasn’t given much of a choice. I could have refused treatment but that only crossed my mind after I realised how hard the treatment is. And even when I am at my lowest wishing I didn’t have to have chemo ever again, I know it is for my own good.

Making choices in difficult situations is not always easy, specially when you don’t feel you are in control of the situation.

Unluckily lucky

In this cancer odyssey, I have been very lucky. I know it sounds strange to say this, but after the big bad news “you have cancer” all other news have been good. I recovered very well from both surgeries. The sentinel lymph node biopsy was negative which indicates a chance of 95% that the remaining lymph nodes in the axilla are also cancer free. Although I suffer a bit with the side effects of the chemotherapy, so far nothing serious has affected me and I always recover well between sessions. I know the journey has not ended yet, but I feel lucky.

Undesired, by Walter Astrada

In India, all women must confront the cultural pressure to bear a son. The consequences of this preference is a disregard for the lives of women and girls. From birth until death they face a constant threat of violence. See the project at http://mediastorm.com/publication/undesired

Ailments

Day eight of this cycle and I am still spending most of the day in bed. I feel so weak I can’t perform any of the normal daily activities without getting breathless and exhausted. Now I understand what fatigue really is. The worst thing is that the tiredness doesn’t go away even if I rest the whole day. Luckily the bone and joint pain is almost gone and I am left only with some muscle pain. It is interesting how pain can influence my emotional state, from Sunday to Tuesday, when the pain was almost unbearable, I thought it was never going to end and I was convinced I was getting worse. I felt very down and pessimistic. But, thanks to my selective memory, a great quality in this business, I can’t remember anymore how it felt like to be in pain.

It isn’t just the fatigue that is bothering me. Chemotherapy is destroying my whole digestive system: from a sore mouth (I have huge mouth ulcers that make eating quite a challenge) to nausea, constipation followed by diarrhoea, heartburn, indigestion, loss of appetite, colic and sensitivity to smells and tastes, everything is contributing to my general feeling of being unwell.

On top of this, I lost my nostrils’ hair which is very annoying. I never really appreciated how useful they were. Now I have a constant runny nose and a sore throat.

I didn’t want to mention it because it makes me really sad, but my eyebrows and eyelashes are getting thinner and thinner. Panic level: really really high!

And, to put a cherry on top of my cake, I have a verruca on my right foot which is taking advantage of my weakened immune system to grow. Just great!

Afro Celt Sound System - Persistence of Memory

Dia de Todos-os-Santos

The 1st of November in Portugal is a public holiday, it is a day when people go to the cemetery with candles and flowers to put on the graves of dead relatives or friends. Some people say prayers for the dead.

This year I am going to light a candle at home in memory of my father. Not for him, but for me. I don’t talk much about it, but I feel I haven’t had time to grieve properly.

In pain

Yesterday I was happy because although I felt exhausted and weak I managed to go for a walk in Hampstead Heath in the morning. It was a beautiful sunny autumn morning.

Today the story is different, I woke up in the middle of the night with the most intense and unpleasant pain I ever felt before. My whole body was in pain. Or shall I say, is in pain. It is a constant pain, it hasn’t stopped since.
The doctor warned me that one of the side effects could be severe muscle, bone and joint pain and she even prescribed some pretty strong pain killers, but I didn’t think it was going to be like this. I can hardly move. I am so aware of every single part of my body and every single part of it is in pain.
I took a long warm bath which helped a bit, I feel calmer and more relaxed, but standing and sitting is proving to be very painful. I hate being in pain, it just makes me feel so down. If I could I would cry the whole day.

Happy Deepavali!

The festival celebrates the victory of good over evil, light over darkness and knowledge over ignorance.

Ramayana: The story of Rama and Sita

Set in India, Rama (incarnation of the God Vishnu) and his wife Sita have been banished from their kingdom of Kosala for fourteen years, due to a plot by the mother of one of Rama's four brothers to keep Rama from the throne. Rama's brother, Laksmana, accompanies the couple. King Rawana of Ceylon spies the beautiful Sita and creates a plan to abduct her. He sends one of his minions, magically disguised as a golden deer to entice Rama and Laksmana away from Sita. Rama goes after the deer, instructing Laksmana not to leave Sita. Rama brings down the golden deer with his bow and arrow. The golden deer reverts to its original shape and with its dying breath calls out "Help, help, help" in Rama's voice. Sita, hearing Rama's voice, entreats Laksmana to go and help Rama. When he refuses, she goads him into leaving. Laksmana draws a magic circle around Sita and tells her that she must stay inside it until he and Rama return. When Sita is alone, Rawana appears, disguised as an ailing old man, who begs Sita for help. When Sita steps out of the magic circle to aid the old man, the old man changes into Rawana and abducts Sita, telling her that Rama is dead. He rises in the air with her and flies to his Kingdom.

Garuda spies Rawana carrying off Sita and they battle in the air. Rawana delivers a fatal wound to Garuda who falls to the ground, where he is discovered by Rama and Laksmana. Garuda is near death and manages to tell Rama of his failure to rescue Sita.

Rama and Laksmana travel onward and enlist the aid of the army of wanaras, a race of huge monkeys. Sugriwa, King of the wanaras, agrees to help Rama rescue Sita in return for Rama's support of Sugriwa's attempt to regain his rightful throne in the land of Guakiskenda. When Sugriwa meets his nemesis, Subali, Rama saves Sugriwa's life with a magic arrow which kills Subali. After Sugriwa is crowned King of Guakiskenda, the white monkey general, Hanuman, is sent to Alengka (Ceylon) to scout the defences and to deliver Rama's ring to Sita, so that she would know that Rama was alive.

After a narrow escape from the stomach of Wikateksi, the enormous sea monster which guarded the approaches to Alengka, Hanuman kills Wikateksi and flies to the capital of Alengka, the kingdom of the giants. Fortunately, there are many monkeys living among the giants, which provide cover for Hanuman, who reduces his size. He looks everywhere in the city for Sita. Eventually Hanuman finds Rawana's palace and the women's quarters. Hanuman meets Sita in the garden and gives her Rama's ring, which she recognizes at once, and tells her that Rama is on his way to rescue her.

Hanuman, in order to test the strength of the city, resumes his normal size, climbs to the top of a tall building and hurls a challenge to the awestruck crowd below. He begins to destroy the buildings around him by using an uprooted palm tree as a club. He is felled by an arrow shot by the crown prince of Alengka, Hindrajit. Hanuman is shackled in chains and sentenced to die by slow fire. Hanuman appeals to Agni, the god of fire, to save him. A wall of flame springs up between Hanuman and the watching crowd. With a burst of strength, Hanuman breaks his bonds, and swinging a glowing torch picked up from the fire, goes on a rampage which ends in the burning of a large part of the city. Assuring himself that Sita's pavilion is safe, Hanuman leaps into the air and flies back to Guakiskenda.

After hearing of Hanuman's exploits, Rama adopts him as his own son. The army then heads for Alengka, which they find surrounded by a boiling sea. By hurling huge boulders into the sea, the monkey soldiers build a causeway to the island. Rawana learns of the invasion and assembles his generals. Some of the generals resent Rawana's evil rule, but heretofore have lacked the courage to oppose him. Wibisana, Rawana's brother, as spokesman, points out that it was because Rawana abducted Sita that Alengka is now beset by enemy armies. He suggests that Rawana release Sita and avoid bloodshed and loss of life and property. Angered, Rawana strikes Wibisana, who then deserts to Rama's army. Rawana is tempted to murder Sita, but is thwarted by Trijata, Wibisana's beautiful daughter, who has grown to love Sita as a sister. Rawana turns to another brother, the giant Kumbakarna, who although disapproving of Rawana's crimes and baseness, decides to help because they are of the same blood.

After many guerrilla attacks by the monkey soldiers, the two armies finally face each other. Two opposing generals, Kumbakarna and Laksmana challenge each other. Kumbakarna is killed by Laksmana's magic arrow. Other duels take place on the battlefield. Rama spots Rawana and pursues him, shooting showers of arrows, which seem to have no effect on Rawana other than to make him back off. Rawana backs in between two unusually formed rocks which snap together and hold him in an inescapable grip. These rocks are inhabited by the souls of two of his daughters, who Rawana had murdered, and who are at last able to avenge themselves on their father.

Rawana's army surrenders and Rama gives the throne of Alengka to Wibisana. Rama and Sita are joyfully united. The fourteen years of exile being over, Rama, Sita and Laksmana return to Kosala, where they are welcomed by all. However, rumours circulate about Sita's virtue. She offers to test her virtue by fire. She enters the ring of fire and emerges unscathed, her faithfulness confirmed. When the rumours persist, she leaves the palace for the spiritual life.

4 down, 2 more to go

Chemotherapy: take 4

It feels a bit like groundhog day by now. I wake up after a bad night sleep, feeling anxious and slightly scared, get ready, take a cab and arrive at The Harley Street Clinic for one more consultation with my oncologist. She goes through all side effects and medication, talks to me about how to best manage the side effects and about the new drug I am taking now, Taxotere. She answers my questions, always in a very positive way, making me feel confident and calm. I then go to the chemotherapy day unit, where I choose my chair, the one on the corner, by the window. S. sits next to me, like always, keeping me company while reading and listening to the radio that is playing softly in the room. The nurses greet us in a very nice way as usual and once again they go through the side effects of the Taxotere and explain how my treatment is going to be that day.

The results of the blood tests done the previous day show that my blood counts are within acceptable limits, meaning that the treatment can go ahead as planned. The nurse gives me the anti-sickness pill one hour before treatment starts. He checks my temperature, blood pressure and weight. By the way I’ve put on 1,5 kilos since last treatment which is great because I wasn’t supposed to lose more than 5 kilos and I had already lost 6. The nurses were a bit concerned about my weight loss. With Taxotere I may put on weight because of the steroids I have to take, but hopefully I will manage to stay the same, I will for sure make an effort not to turn into a fat whale. My self-esteem is already at its worse, soon I will have to hide all the mirrors in the house.

The drug is administered via the port-a-cath that I have now on my chest. It is so much better this way, it is faster and less painful. The only pain I felt was when the needle was inserted, and then when it was removed. I wish I had the port since the first day. It is a bit weird though to have something underneath your skin, with a tube in your vein, but I try not to think about it much.

While the infusion is given, I read, chat a bit, and enjoy the reflexology. It is in general a very relaxing day, despite all the stress that comes with it.

In the meantime, the pharmacist comes along with the list of medication I have to take at home, and the usual big bag full of medicines plus the Neulasta injection that I dislike but learned to give to myself to avoid one more trip to the clinic. Once again, she explains what to take and when and answers my questions.

Before removing the needle, the nurse flushes the port-a-cath to ensure it is open and unobstructed.

By 1pm I was already at home, feeling tired and slightly sickish, but nothing too bad. I had a proper dinner and went early to bed.

Today I had a reasonably good day. I just feel extremely tired and slightly nauseous, nothing I am not used to by now. S. stayed at home to keep me company. Having someone around makes me feel calmer. And it is nice to have someone to re-fill my glass of water and give me little kisses.

With the Taxotere I may experience the following side effects:
•Low white blood cell count (increases risk of infections)
•Low red blood cell count (anaemia)
•Fluid retention with weight gain, swelling of the ankles or abdominal area (great, just what I needed, I will turn into a bald big fat whale!)
•Peripheral neuropathy (numbness in fingers and toes)
•Nausea
•Diarrhoea
•Mouth sores
•Hair loss (too late, almost all is gone by now!)
•Fatigue and weakness
•Nail changes (nails may fall off)
•Vomiting
•Muscle, bone and joint pain
•Low platelet count (increases risk of bleeding)
•Allergic reactions (rash, flushing, fever, lowered blood pressure)
•Infusion site reactions

Coping with chemotherapy

Each chemotherapy drug causes its own specific side effects and each patient reacts differently to chemotherapy, both emotionally and physically. Other people might have different ways of surviving chemotherapy, but here is a small list of what is helping me to go through chemotherapy:

1. A caring and dedicated support network: husband, family, friends, neighbours, colleagues, acquaintances, nurses, doctors and all healthcare staff.  Having emotional support is more important than I ever imagined. This had to be the first one on my list because it is by far the most important.
2. Trying not to compare myself to other patients, side effects vary and tolerance to pain and discomfort varies greatly from person to person.
3. Drinking plenty of water, and I mean really a lot of water.
4. Drinking ginger tea and eating ginger cookies to help with the nausea.
5. Eating only what appeals to me and in small amounts, making sure it is a balanced diet.
6. Resting, taking naps, sleeping.
7. Going for walks every day, avoiding lying down of the sofa all the time.
8. Keeping myself informed and planning ahead.
9. Keeping a positive attitude and never giving up.
10. Accepting the changes, after all, it is only temporary and chemo will help me to live longer.

Pink explosion

After the C-bomb (cancer) dropped on my life, we have now the P-explosion (pink).

I had enough of Pink October. Breast Cancer Awareness Month should in my opinion be called Cure Breast Cancer Month.

Sometimes I just want to feel normal and not be reminded every minute that I have breast cancer. But it is hard to forget when everywhere you go and everywhere you look there’s something pink. Advertisements in the newspapers and magazines, posters in the tube, little pink ribbons for sale by the till at any shop, pink mugs, pink wigs, pink chocolates, pink perfumes, pink lipsticks, pink socks, pink umbrellas, pink mobile phones, pink coca-cola.., and so on and so on.... It’s an over kill. Even I had a pink moment a while back. Sometimes I have an impression companies are using the Pink October campaign to promote their products more than anything else. Although I am also aware that a lot o companies are genuinely trying to support cancer campaigns and without their support a lot of funds would be lost.

Wouldn’t all this money be better spent on research? I wonder how much funds are raised and how much is actually spent on research. Please find the cause of cancer, a cure for it and patient friendly treatments. I know I am asking a lot, but I do hope we can get it soon.

More than awareness, we need a cure. We need also to learn how to prevent it. Aren’t we all aware of it already? It doesn’t only happen to others (as I naively believed in before) and early detection can save your live (as I hope it will save mine). But even knowing I have a good prognosis I still fear the M-word (metastasis) and the R-word (recurrence) and I wish everyday for someone to find the cure for cancer.

Today I saw a completely pink cab saying “Wear it pink”. I needed a cab but I took the bus instead.

About feeling normal, I have to add that more and more I have the need to feel normal and although I have no problem talking about my cancer and answering any question people might have, I really enjoy the moments when I can talk about other things. The other day I went out with two friends and apart from a comment about my head scarf because they hadn’t seen me without hair yet and I understand my look has changed, we did not talk about cancer. It was so nice not to think about it for a couple of hours.

Ruining my good mood

I hate chemo! I’ve said this before and it stays true. I simply hate it and I have to admit that it crossed my mind to refuse any further treatments. But I won’t because I am too wise (and no one around me would allow me to that anyway). So, tomorrow I will go to another session very much against my will.

I’ve been feeling so good lately, it is a shame we have to ruin that. I even have small episodes of some kind of anxiety or panic attacks when I think of what is coming. Exaggerating? Me? Nãaaaa...

Plus, the phlebitis remains the same, painful, annoying and uncomfortable and, even worse, my eyebrows are fading away. I give it one, maybe two, more weeks of life, after that I will definitely look like an egg. I really really wish they didn’t fall out. Funny enough, completely unnecessary hair like the hair on my arms hasn’t fallen out yet and there’s no sign of weakness. How come?

Need to go now, I have to go to the clinic for the pre-chemo tests.

St Margaret's at Cliffe, Kent

I had the nicest days in a long time.

We were extremely lucky with the weather, it was very cold but very sunny, with clear blue sky.
I need more breaks like this.





Head Insulation

In these last few days, temperatures dropped a lot, one cannot leave the house without a winter coat and a scarf anymore. Since I have lost my natural head insulation, going out is a bit of a drama because the thin scarves I wear do not protect my head from the cold wind. Yesterday I went to Snow & Rock and bought fleece lined beanies and an icebreaker to wear underneath the scarves. I am saved! At night I also started wearing a cap or a hat otherwise I feel so cold I cannot fall asleep. I never thought that not having hair would make me feel so cold.

Tomorrow we are going to the South East, to the seaside, to get some fresh air and relax a bit for a few days. We both desperately need it. The new hats I bought will be very useful to protect my little head from the cold strong coastal wind. I can’t wait to go there and enjoy a long walk on the White Cliffs.

Nonya Kaya

Yesterday, on our way to ICA (Institute of Contemporary Arts) to see a Singaporean movie, Sandcastle by director Boo Junfeng, we passed by China Town, where I couldn’t resist going in one of the Chinese supermarkets. In there I found Nonya Kaya, made in Singapore. I love kaya. Most people think it is too sweet, but I just love it. It is a coconut and egg jam, with a hint of pandan, that Singaporeans eat on toast with a thick layer of butter. Even though I know my tummy will not be able to take it for now, I bought two jars.

The film, that was part of the London Film Festival, was different than I expected. I thought it would be a critique to the current political situation in Singapore but, although it touched some sensitive social and historical aspects, it was more focused on family values. I enjoyed it but it will probably not win any prizes.

London Film Festival

I really liked this movie, "I am Kalam", directed by Nila Madhab Panda.
It is set in Bikaner in Rajasthan, where I have already been (including to the Karni Mata Temple, also known as the rat temple, where rats are believed to be an incarnation of the goddess Durga and wander around freely in the temple).
The characters seem real, the landscapes are beautiful, it is full of colour, has fantastic music and great acting. It is a moving story with a feel good factor. I hope it reaches the commercial distribution soon.

Between the lines

When I was first diagnosed with cancer, in a conversation with the breast surgeon he made a funny mistake. He said: “you will go through a holocaust of emotions”. He immediately corrected it to what he actually meant to say: “a rollercoaster of emotions”. What I thought was just a language mishap seems to me now to have been a warning, letting me know it would be a catastrophic period in my life.

I am probably disappointing a lot of people but the fact is, I am so tired of being unwell that I start to wonder if I can cope with this at all.

“How are you doing?” became a very difficult question to answer for me. I am not ok, but I am not too bad either, I am aware it could be a lot worse. And I never know if you want to hear how I am actually doing or just a brief polite answer. If I told you about every little thing that I am going through, I would either bore you to death or make you cry. Even if I want to project a positive attitude, there’s so much bad stuff going on, I can’t always feel positive.

There’s the pain, the permanent discomfort, the fatigue, the nausea, the bone and joint pain, the horrible headaches, the dozens of pills and injections, the loss of control of my own life, the hair loss and the pity looks, the loss of appetite, the sore mouth, the chest port, the scars, the constant trips to the clinic, the loss of self-esteem, the fear, anxiety, helplessness, uncertainty, sadness, guilt, vulnerability, anger and grief.

I’ve come across statements such as: “Being diagnosed with cancer was one of the best things that happened to me.” I honestly can’t understand how people can feel like this. There is nothing good about cancer. My life was good as it was before, I was happy. I didn’t need cancer to suddenly realise that birds sing and the trees are green, that I have a great family and wonderful friends, that life is worth living. I enjoyed life pre-cancer, no need for cancer or any other serious illness to improve anything in my life.

I’ve only lost things since diagnosis, the biggest loss is time. I am losing a year of my life.

How am I? I am looking forward to 2011.

The SCAR Project by David Jay

http://www.thescarproject.org/home.html

Oh no, I’ve lost my appetite!

Terrible, unexpected, serious! Me, not hungry? Not enjoying food? Something must be wrong! Oh, yes, I almost forgot, chemo, of course.

It is so weird not to feel hungry and not enjoying what I eat.

In the morning it takes me more than half an hour to finish my porridge, one small spoon at the time, slowly, slowly. Then comes lunch, oh no, time for food again. And then tea time and then dinner. It is amazing how much we eat in a day.

My mouth is sore, my taste buds are kind of dormant, my tummy is funny and I don’t feel hungry. In fact, I feel sick.

The idea of going to a nice restaurant for a good meal doesn’t appeal to me anymore. I can even say no to ice-cream and chocolate. This is so unusual.

The normal me loves food, cooking (eating more than cooking, I admit!), recipe books, kitchen gadgets, big kitchens, cookware shops, watching cookery programmes, talking about food, trying new things and going out for dinner. I want the normal me back!

At the end of this “cancer era” there will be a big banquet which will not include beetroot.

Dreamer

Faye Wong's Cantonese version of Dreams by Cranberries

I liked the movie, Chungking Express, and I like this song, reminds me of Asia :)

Only child for a while

When we were little girls and my father was away travelling, we used to climb into my mother’s bed, early in the morning. We always had to fight to see who would lie down next to her, we are three sisters and my mother only has two sides, so we knew one of us would always lose. We would also prepare her breakfast, poor mamã, burnt toasts with too much butter and watery coffee! It was probably not a very relaxing awakening for her. But a lot of fun for us.



Enjoying the sun in the garden, yesterday.



I thought of these moments yesterday, when my mother left to go back to Portugal. She came before chemo started to keep me company, help me and make sure I am ok. It was so nice to have her just for myself, no need divide her attention or fight to see who sits next to her. Nowadays I have to compete with my nephews more than with my sisters for her attention, eh eh! I don’t mind loosing against them, they are so irresistibly cute.

The moment she left, I immediately missed her.

3 down, 3 more to go

Said like this it sounds like I am half way, but considering the time it takes me to recover from each session, I feel I still have a long way to go.

This session was the last of the FEC regimen. Next I will have 3 sessions of T (Taxotere).

Thursday’s session was in many ways different from the previous ones. To start with I had to be at The Harley Street Clinic at 7am to have the port implanted in my chest. It is a simple procedure, but added to the stress of having a chemo session on that same day, it made me very stressed and anxious.

I had the choice of having general or local anaesthesia. The idea of being able to hear and see part of what is going on in the operating room, made me go for the local anaesthesia. Also because the recovery is much faster. I think I fell asleep for a while during the procedure, but I still remember quite a lot. The most exciting moment was when the fire alarm rang, no one even moved and just continued with their work. I asked what the normal procedure in these cases was. Before evacuating, they first wait to be informed where the fire is located and to be instructed to leave the operating room and when possible they do so, carrying the patient with them obviously. Luckily it was just someone’s toast that got a bit burnt in the kitchen. As the lifts were not working for a while, one of the nurses kept me company until he could take me back to my room, on the 4th floor. Once again, I only have good things to say about all medical staff I have encountered so far: excellent dedicated people.

Back in the room I found two sleepy heads, S. and my mother, poor creatures, going through all this with me. The room was great, spacious and new. I had the chemo in the room and not at the day unit as before. It was more quiet and I had more privacy which after even a small procedure is very pleasant.

About one hour after the surgery I got dressed with my own clothes, covered my naked head and waited for the chemo nurse. Having a port is actually very practical, there was no need to look for a cooperative vein, and the drugs can be administered a lot faster. Half way the treatment I was already starting to feel a bit funny. But it all went well.

The port is hardly visible, just a discrete bump on my chest. I have two small scars, one on the chest (though which the port was put in, under the skin) and one on the neck (through which the catheter was inserted in the vein). I hope they will disappear with time, I feel I am collecting scars!

Around 3.30pm I was discharged and went home feeling reasonably ok. At the end of the afternoon I felt horribly nauseous and didn’t manage to eat anything of the delicious meal S. had prepared. Before 9pm I was already in bed.

Friday was a good day, I woke up early and feeling pretty good.

J.’s visits are always pleasant but this last one made my taste buds happy. She brought bouchons form the Cup Cake Company. Very nice! Even with a funny tummy I enjoyed it. Afterwards, to get some sun and make my legs move a bit, we went for a long walk. Friday was a good day.

Today I feel as bad as I normally do after each chemo: headache, nausea, throbbing ear vein, no appetite, some pain and discomfort and excessively tired.

This time I got a lot more anti-sickness pills than the previous times and I just hope they work, because I really hate feeling like this.