December 2005
After some time for reflection, I agreed to the mastectomy but asked for a delayed re-construction of my left breast. It's great to be given a choice about the timing of this second procedure and I am so lucky to be living in the 21st century with access to 21st century medicine. So why delay? The Surgeon explained he would need to remove all the lymph nodes under my left arm aswell as the tumours and my breast plus I had an extensive course of treatment during the coming months. The thought of having to cope with reconstructive surgery as well as recuperating from the removal of the lymph nodes and my breast was too much for me. This is a personal choice. I know of other women who have opted for immediate reconstruction; I think everyone makes the decision that is best for their own circumstances.
How do others cope with the news?
It is not easy having to explain this to parents, siblings or friends, and I was acutely aware people would hear the word cancer and that it would sound deadly. And, let's face it, it can kill. However survival rates are now higher than they have ever been and improving with time. I am convinced I am going to get well and this state of mind informed my choice of words as I broke the news to my family and friends. This is easy enough for me to write however it could not have been easy to find out that your daughter/sister/wife/daughter-in law/friend has cancer. I have been very open with the children however explained things in their terms i.e that Mummy has a lump in her chest, is going to have an operation and of course tell them what I have been telling myself, and everyone else: I am going to get better. In fact, better than better. Fighting fit!
People around me seem to be coping despite the worrying news. My sister Rosemary gave me the Dr Gillian McKeith books "You are what you eat" and the "You are what you eat cookbook". These have helped enormously and we have started to make dietary changes at home to make us all healthier. My husbannd Bryan bought me Susannah Olivier's book "The breast cancer prevention and recovery diet" There is a qoute on the front of the book from Mike Hudson, consultant surgeon breast care unit, Queen Elizabeth hospital ' A book for all women to read' and, having got half way through it, I can see why.
Macmillan nurses www.macmillan.org.uk
I contacted the Macmillan nurse based at the hospital: she was inspiring and reassuring from the start. We discussed the purchasing of post surgical bras and a soft prosthesis that would sit inside the left cup so that I could for all intents and purposes look and feel normal as I was out and about. Marks and Spencer have a good range of post surgical bras; thank goodness for that. We also discussed how I would look and feel; how I would lose mobility in my left arm; the risk of lymphoedema and of course my recovery plan. This began to make it all very real and the scale of what was about to happen to me began to hit home. I looked at my left breast when I got home that day in the mirror; it looked fine and matched my healthy breast and yet the lump (s) were there and would eventually kill me unless the breast was removed. Not a great situation to be in but at the same time I wanted to maximise the chances of a long term survival. I sort of said 'Good-bye' and began to focus on the information provided to me by my Macmillan nurse which included a couple of mastectomy fashion catalogues. Maybe things would not be as bad after all?
What happened after the surgery
I was admitted into hospital on 10th December at 2005 at 10 am, met my surgeon again and I signed the consent form for the mastectomy, we discussed post operative care. Before going into theatre, I was paid a visit by one of the hospital's physiotherapists. She showed me some exercises to do as soon as I was wheeled back to the ward and then a day or so after the surgery. The first included opening and closing the fist of my left hand. I was then taken to the operating theatre and felt amazingly calm. As I was speaking to the anaesthetist to check if she and the Surgeon had had lunch, ( I couldn't bear the thought that these people might be working on an empty stomach) she laughed and assured me they had. I felt a sharp needle go into my right hand and the anaesthetist said the anaesthetic would go in at any moment. I started to get ready by opening and closing my left hand and then fell into a deep sleep.
I woke up at around 4.30 pm, looked at the clock in the recovery room and breathed a sigh of relief. Round 1 had started and I was in there, fighting it out.
As I was travelling up in the lift from the recovery room to the ward, I became aware of tubes leading to various drips and bottles; they all seem to be attached to me. I raised my left hand and felt the area on my chest where my left breast used to be: it was completely flat and completely numb. I then passed my hand over to the right and felt a familiar shape, a shape I knew I had to look after a little more carefully in the future. Bryan was waiting for me when I was wheeled into the ward; we spoke for a while. Prior to my admission we had both planned a timetable, with almost military precision, that allowed Bryan to fulfill all his obligations at his school while at the same time enabling him to attend Joshua and Benjamin's nativity concerts at their schools. Not only that, but he would also get a flavour of life as a single a parent for a week. That said, he's a good egg and I knew would just 'get on with it'.
After he left one of the nurses explained I was wired up to a morphine drip for pain relief. At first I didn't think I would need it, then as the evening progressed, I found my self pressing the button that sent a shot through my veins quite a few times. Apparently the amounts were too small to allow me to be become addicted and were carefully controlled so that I could not give myself too much. The other liquid I found I needed was water; I drank endless bottles.
My stay in hospital lasted a week and I cannot fault the nursing care or any of the staff that came into contact with me. The Macmillan nurse however was in a class of her own; she instinctively knew when to come and see me and, when my morale dipped; she knew what to do. Few have the gift of making everyting seem alright in these circumstances however the Macmillan nurse came close. My main anxiety related to my appearence. The Macmillan nurse ran through with me practicalities of how to fit the prosthesis and this made me feel a lot more confident about leaving my ward area for a little walk.
Within a few days I was off the morphine and given oral pain relief in tablet form. Pain relief medicine can have some unpleasant side effects and I suffered two of them:nausea and constipation. The former began to fade with the new pain relief and several glasses of Prune juice took care of the latter.
'When you're smiling'
Before going to hospital, I received a lovely bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates from my colleagues in the office at Voca, this was followed by another stunning bouquet of flowers from staff at Band and Brown (www.bbpr.com) , a communcations consultancy in London I have been working with the last couple of years and a pair of boxing gloves. The boxing gloves arrived in a cardboard box and were sent by Jackie Elliot who I had worked with in the past and who now works at College Hill (www.collegehill.com) A note inside simply read 'these will help knock this damn thing right out!' The boxing gloves came with me to hospital and, when I became a bit uncomfortable, I put them on. Goodness knows what I must have looked like laid out on that bed with all those tubes wearing a pair of boxing gloves. However they helped and are never too far away. During the days that followed I received cards, phone calls, more flowers, chocolates and more cards. Virtually all the cards featured the same words and every time I read the messages on the cards, I became more determined to do that one thing: to get well.
I also found a number of reasons to smile in the hospital. Firstly those tumours were gone and every time I thought about that, I beamed with joy. Secondly my family and friends were great company and I have to take my hat off to our youngest son, who is just four years old, for making me laugh when he came to visit. He scrambled up onto my bed and spotted buttons, which when pressed, would make the bed would go 'up' and 'down', then 'up' and then 'down' again. We gently persuaded him this was not allowed however it was fun while it lasted.
The last day of my stay in hospital coincided with my Birthday and began with a wonderful surprise. One of my many weaknesses relates to chocolate and, until I went into hospital I ate some virtually every day. So when it came to organising the staff party at work, I was the one that said we had to have a 'Chocolate Fountain' and we finished up with two. (See below). That was my main contribution towards the party which took place on 3rd December at Madame Tussauds. We had a lovely evening and had pictures taken with the rich and famous well, their effigies really. My dress was streaked with chocolate when I looked at it the next morning. But it was worth it.
After some time for reflection, I agreed to the mastectomy but asked for a delayed re-construction of my left breast. It's great to be given a choice about the timing of this second procedure and I am so lucky to be living in the 21st century with access to 21st century medicine. So why delay? The Surgeon explained he would need to remove all the lymph nodes under my left arm aswell as the tumours and my breast plus I had an extensive course of treatment during the coming months. The thought of having to cope with reconstructive surgery as well as recuperating from the removal of the lymph nodes and my breast was too much for me. This is a personal choice. I know of other women who have opted for immediate reconstruction; I think everyone makes the decision that is best for their own circumstances.
How do others cope with the news?
It is not easy having to explain this to parents, siblings or friends, and I was acutely aware people would hear the word cancer and that it would sound deadly. And, let's face it, it can kill. However survival rates are now higher than they have ever been and improving with time. I am convinced I am going to get well and this state of mind informed my choice of words as I broke the news to my family and friends. This is easy enough for me to write however it could not have been easy to find out that your daughter/sister/wife/daughter-in law/friend has cancer. I have been very open with the children however explained things in their terms i.e that Mummy has a lump in her chest, is going to have an operation and of course tell them what I have been telling myself, and everyone else: I am going to get better. In fact, better than better. Fighting fit!
People around me seem to be coping despite the worrying news. My sister Rosemary gave me the Dr Gillian McKeith books "You are what you eat" and the "You are what you eat cookbook". These have helped enormously and we have started to make dietary changes at home to make us all healthier. My husbannd Bryan bought me Susannah Olivier's book "The breast cancer prevention and recovery diet" There is a qoute on the front of the book from Mike Hudson, consultant surgeon breast care unit, Queen Elizabeth hospital ' A book for all women to read' and, having got half way through it, I can see why.
Macmillan nurses www.macmillan.org.uk
I contacted the Macmillan nurse based at the hospital: she was inspiring and reassuring from the start. We discussed the purchasing of post surgical bras and a soft prosthesis that would sit inside the left cup so that I could for all intents and purposes look and feel normal as I was out and about. Marks and Spencer have a good range of post surgical bras; thank goodness for that. We also discussed how I would look and feel; how I would lose mobility in my left arm; the risk of lymphoedema and of course my recovery plan. This began to make it all very real and the scale of what was about to happen to me began to hit home. I looked at my left breast when I got home that day in the mirror; it looked fine and matched my healthy breast and yet the lump (s) were there and would eventually kill me unless the breast was removed. Not a great situation to be in but at the same time I wanted to maximise the chances of a long term survival. I sort of said 'Good-bye' and began to focus on the information provided to me by my Macmillan nurse which included a couple of mastectomy fashion catalogues. Maybe things would not be as bad after all?
What happened after the surgery
I was admitted into hospital on 10th December at 2005 at 10 am, met my surgeon again and I signed the consent form for the mastectomy, we discussed post operative care. Before going into theatre, I was paid a visit by one of the hospital's physiotherapists. She showed me some exercises to do as soon as I was wheeled back to the ward and then a day or so after the surgery. The first included opening and closing the fist of my left hand. I was then taken to the operating theatre and felt amazingly calm. As I was speaking to the anaesthetist to check if she and the Surgeon had had lunch, ( I couldn't bear the thought that these people might be working on an empty stomach) she laughed and assured me they had. I felt a sharp needle go into my right hand and the anaesthetist said the anaesthetic would go in at any moment. I started to get ready by opening and closing my left hand and then fell into a deep sleep.
I woke up at around 4.30 pm, looked at the clock in the recovery room and breathed a sigh of relief. Round 1 had started and I was in there, fighting it out.
As I was travelling up in the lift from the recovery room to the ward, I became aware of tubes leading to various drips and bottles; they all seem to be attached to me. I raised my left hand and felt the area on my chest where my left breast used to be: it was completely flat and completely numb. I then passed my hand over to the right and felt a familiar shape, a shape I knew I had to look after a little more carefully in the future. Bryan was waiting for me when I was wheeled into the ward; we spoke for a while. Prior to my admission we had both planned a timetable, with almost military precision, that allowed Bryan to fulfill all his obligations at his school while at the same time enabling him to attend Joshua and Benjamin's nativity concerts at their schools. Not only that, but he would also get a flavour of life as a single a parent for a week. That said, he's a good egg and I knew would just 'get on with it'.
After he left one of the nurses explained I was wired up to a morphine drip for pain relief. At first I didn't think I would need it, then as the evening progressed, I found my self pressing the button that sent a shot through my veins quite a few times. Apparently the amounts were too small to allow me to be become addicted and were carefully controlled so that I could not give myself too much. The other liquid I found I needed was water; I drank endless bottles.
My stay in hospital lasted a week and I cannot fault the nursing care or any of the staff that came into contact with me. The Macmillan nurse however was in a class of her own; she instinctively knew when to come and see me and, when my morale dipped; she knew what to do. Few have the gift of making everyting seem alright in these circumstances however the Macmillan nurse came close. My main anxiety related to my appearence. The Macmillan nurse ran through with me practicalities of how to fit the prosthesis and this made me feel a lot more confident about leaving my ward area for a little walk.
Within a few days I was off the morphine and given oral pain relief in tablet form. Pain relief medicine can have some unpleasant side effects and I suffered two of them:nausea and constipation. The former began to fade with the new pain relief and several glasses of Prune juice took care of the latter.
'When you're smiling'
Before going to hospital, I received a lovely bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates from my colleagues in the office at Voca, this was followed by another stunning bouquet of flowers from staff at Band and Brown (www.bbpr.com) , a communcations consultancy in London I have been working with the last couple of years and a pair of boxing gloves. The boxing gloves arrived in a cardboard box and were sent by Jackie Elliot who I had worked with in the past and who now works at College Hill (www.collegehill.com) A note inside simply read 'these will help knock this damn thing right out!' The boxing gloves came with me to hospital and, when I became a bit uncomfortable, I put them on. Goodness knows what I must have looked like laid out on that bed with all those tubes wearing a pair of boxing gloves. However they helped and are never too far away. During the days that followed I received cards, phone calls, more flowers, chocolates and more cards. Virtually all the cards featured the same words and every time I read the messages on the cards, I became more determined to do that one thing: to get well.
I also found a number of reasons to smile in the hospital. Firstly those tumours were gone and every time I thought about that, I beamed with joy. Secondly my family and friends were great company and I have to take my hat off to our youngest son, who is just four years old, for making me laugh when he came to visit. He scrambled up onto my bed and spotted buttons, which when pressed, would make the bed would go 'up' and 'down', then 'up' and then 'down' again. We gently persuaded him this was not allowed however it was fun while it lasted.
The last day of my stay in hospital coincided with my Birthday and began with a wonderful surprise. One of my many weaknesses relates to chocolate and, until I went into hospital I ate some virtually every day. So when it came to organising the staff party at work, I was the one that said we had to have a 'Chocolate Fountain' and we finished up with two. (See below). That was my main contribution towards the party which took place on 3rd December at Madame Tussauds. We had a lovely evening and had pictures taken with the rich and famous well, their effigies really. My dress was streaked with chocolate when I looked at it the next morning. But it was worth it.
Chocolate fountain
My husband and I !
Picasso's waxwork (L)
I digress. When office chums pitched up to visit me in hospital on the morning of my Birthday, they came bearing a rather large parcel. They had big grins on their faces and suggested I open it straight away. And lo and behold there it was: my very own chocolate fountain for the home. It doesn't get any better than that. I laughed and laughed. On Christmas day it had its first outing and the whole family got stuck in.
posted by Anne-Marie @ 7:31 PM
7 Comments:
Well, Anne-Marie - this makes very interesting reading even for those of us who know the details already from earlier phone discussions. You are undoubtedly a very strong character and will go from strength to strength as you battle this out with your boxing gloves! Hope all goes well on Friday and you know where I am if you need an immediate one to one chat. With fondest love, ROS xxx
Hi Anne-Marie. I've been a bit behind the curve having just returned from 3+ weeks away from the office! Read your blog and glad to hear that you're on the mend and being as proactive as you can - the 'You are what you eat'approach is so exciting when you get into it and know that you're looking after yourself better, isn't it?
I know from my past experience as an Oncology nurse, with the courage you're demonstrating you'll do very well in your recovery to health. Keep up the good work.
I look forward to reading how you're getting on.
Cheers - here's to us all enjoying more fruit smoothies from now on!
Sophie
Anne Marie
The words were a great inspiration for others who may be going through the same thing and informative to those of us who have not. The best thing is that you have written it still wearing your big smile!
If I can be of any help over the coming months...onions included, let me know!
Hi Anne-Marie, we've been for lunch at the Druid's today and are up to our usual mischief on friday afternoon. We have loved reading your blog (me, Kerry & Mini Me) and all miss you lots. Let us know how today goes and we hope to see you soon
Izzy, Kerry and Debbie x
Hi Anne-Marie!
Great to read your blog and see that you are coping so well with your recovery.
We're all missing you terribly here in the Voca Design Studio, your positive attitude and upbeat approach to all things is something we simply can't do without.
Hurry up and get back here ASAP!
Looking forward to seeing you soon - Craig, Paul and David. XXX.
I agree with Jackie: the photo of you with the boxing gloves is great! I also like the one of you and Bryan at the Christmas do. I like them both very much.
Rosemary x
:'(
hi
u look pretty with ur wigs
:'(
DONT DIE
:'(
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