The title for this post was something my friend Jenny said to me in a text & it pretty much sums up how I feel at the moment. Brian perfectly illustrates my current head-space in this clip from Spaced:
Apparently I’m doing really well, at least so everyone keeps telling me.
Body
Physically I feel really good at the moment & I’m getting myself all geared up for chemo round 4 this Friday. I’m fasting today & like a marathon runner I’m hydrating before the event. I’m seriously contemplating wearing my Camelbak for the next week as I get so thirsty after chemotherapy that I need a constant supply of water. I’ve gone past caring what I look like, so a watering-hole attached to my derrière will only add to my ridiculous appearance.
A guy who works in the village shop asked if I was feeling okay when he noticed I was wearing a beanie on a sunny day. He was so nice I didn’t have the heart to say: “actually I’ve got cancer & I’m completely bald!” so I just said: ” yeah i’ve got a cold”. Nothing like cancer to stop a conversation.
I spent part of last weekend in Edinburgh catching up with friends and doing the festival thing. This was my first venture out into the big wide world since my diagnosis and I had a great time, although it was tainted. Does my wig look convincing and will people notice my PICC line? It was all just a bit too weird. I have many happy memories of going to the festival in my previous life so I found it difficult to relax.
On a lighter note, if you are going to the festival, I can totally recommend Nick Helm (mental, angry, hilarious but definitely don’t sit in the front row) and The Boy with Tape on his Face (silent but very clever & funny)!
Brain
Mentally I’m really struggling at the moment. The prospect of major surgery and uncertainty about whether the chemo is working have weighed on my mind for the last few weeks. The possibility that the chemotherapy might not be working didn’t concern me until the surgeon planted the seeds of doubt over a month ago.
This might come as a shock to most of you, as it did to me, however chemotherapy doesn’t work for everyone. Everybody responds differently to the cocktail of drugs given during chemotherapy. If the FEC drug regime doesn’t work it’s likely they will bring my surgery forward. Changing to a different drug regime at this stage is too risky and will waste too much time.
I have to wait until next week, when I have another MRI scan, to confirm if the tumour is responding to the chemotherapy. I’m really worried because the lump in my breast doesn’t feel any smaller, so I have a meeting a with my consultant tomorrow to discuss some of my concerns.
There’s so much they don’t tell you when you’re first diagnosed with cancer. I realise now why they don’t. If they told you everything at once you’d probably just find the nearest bridge and jump. I have hormone receptive breast cancer and I’m pre-menopausal so there’s a 1 in 4 chance that my cancer will return. Not great odds.
This is the first time since my diagnosis that I’ve started to feel really angry. I just want my old life back: F**K CANCER by the way.
KillerK 