Month: June 2015

Jak I hear you say, who is Jak? is this a new character in the plot? and isn’t that spelt incorrectly?
JAK stands for Judith Anne King, my mom. Now everyone thinks that they have the best mom in the world. Mother’s Day cards and all other cards relating to mom’s play on that sentiment. I have a wonderful mom who I love dearly but we haven’t had the smoothest of journey’s through life together LOL and because of that, I can truly say that I love my mom, my friend, I believe she needs her own post page just like Molly does.
My mom was born in (I can’t give away a woman’s age) whatever year and was married to my dad for 36 years before he died. They had two children, first Julie and then two years later me.
Mom was an only child and went to a very good school in Wolverhampton. Mom worked for the Polytechnic (as it was called, back in the day) over looking the Wolverhampton Wanders football ground, in the photography department for 27 years. My Dad was in tyres and later driving with his HGV and PSV. Money was tight I think but as children they provided a happy loving home. Lots of camping holidays, adventures, fun and laughter over the years was had with them and my mom’s parents my nan and granddad. Weekends for Julie and I were spent working for free at the local riding stables as horses were everything. We could only ride for one hour every fortnight but it was just heaven. We were given the option in our teens, did we want pocket money or a horse? no contest and so they gave us our dream, a pony called Bonnie and later we had Czar.
Now all my school friends thought my parents were loaded as we had a horse and due to my moms job I was one of the only ones in school who could not only take photo’s but have them developed. Oh how the world changes hey.
Looking back my mom provided everything for us, we were her world and my dad just used to turn up for whatever event was going on, make everyone laugh and buy the beer.
My mom dedicated her life to her roles of daughter, wife, mother and friend. I don’t remember my mom buying herself new clothes, she never swore (and still doesn’t) she had her routine of cleaning the entire house on a Saturday morning and baking all afternoon. Sunday’s was all about the roast lunch whilst my dad was up the pub.
I idolised my dad too much and yet it was my mom who stayed up sewing either costumes for school plays or making us new clothes. It was mom who planned everything we did. It was mom who attended every doctor/dentist appointment and it was mom who did all the decorating. Every Christmas we would sit around the presents and before we opened them I would tease my dad and say “what you brought us then dad?” as even at a young age I was aware that it was my mom who had organised Christmas, the food and the presents, everything was due to the hard work of my mom. My dad didn’t have a clue want she had organised, bless him. All this and she held a job down too.
Now before you think she is a saint there was a down side to supermom and that was that she didn’t show love, she did everything in her life to show us love in terms of things that she did for us but cuddles, hugs, affection and the words ‘I love you’ were not things she would be comfortable with. I felt loved definitely but affection was missing. My dad would never hold me either, he just couldn’t. When my grandad died I begged my dad to hold me through uncontrollable tears but he still couldn’t do it. I actually can’t ever remember being held by my own dad.
As the years past and the teenage hormones kicked in I fought endlessly with my mom. My sister was just like my mom, too nice and she never caused any trouble, I was like my dad and I’m not proud of some of the things I did and said during those years, sorry mom.
Well we all made it through the teenage years and into our adult life. My sister married on her birthday, 30th June 1990 and as a family this was the best day of our lives so far, we were all so happy.
My mom had won, she had dedicated her life to nurturing a family, playing every role really well and she had a lovely family to show for it. Life was good.
Can you imagine getting to that point in life and then it gets taken away from you? Julie died on 19th February 1991, just 8 months into married life. Our world was torn apart and my mom was never the same.
My dad died in 1997, her mom and dad had also died by then and poor mom was only left with me, Richard and Rebecca. I could write a whole book just on this alone, what happened and how it effected us but I can’t, it’s just not easy to write about even now. You never stop mourning for the people you love and loose, you just have to learn to not cry.
My mom has had to learn to be her again. Apart from the title roles she plays as mom and nan she has had to go on as herself, to define who she is. I think that she is happier now than she has ever been. She enjoys life and the freedoms she has. My mom can now be funny, interesting and above all else loving in her own reserved way. She occasionally tells rude jokes and is definitely more approachable. I can honestly say that I like my mom, I love my mom and I’m proud of my mom. She is hard to get along with at first as she is shy and not a natural at striking up a conversation. I’m like my dad and will talk to anyone. If you have my mom as your friend it’s an unconditional friendship and worth it’s weight in gold but you have to work hard to get through the shy barriers first but once that’s done her friendship will be for life.
So she gets on with life after all the heart ache and shit that losing people brings. She is happy and I have to break her heart again by telling her I have cancer. My mom finds it easier to be with us at this time as her friends know what she has been through and she doesn’t want pity. She is, like us trying to make sense of this cancer shit. I know she probably thinks sometimes as I do, why us again? can sorrow just piss off and knock on someone else’s door please. We have had our share if grief thank you!
My mom doesn’t show emotion and will be with Steve and I on every step of this journey, to do anything she can to help on a practical level. She irons, cooks and cleans, she takes Molly out when I can’t, she does the garden and is a truly devoted mom and I love her for it.
Is she the best mom in the world? No! of cause not, as that’s me, I learnt from the best 🙂

 

Molly is Richards dog she was born 3 years ago and is now the same age in dog years as Richard which is 21.
Steve and I had both agreed no more animals as we had 3 cats, then Richard wanted a rabbit and then it was agreed no more animals and then Richard wanted a dog! No way Steve and I would always say as definitely no more animals and definitely never a dog! Then Richard was due to go to Afghan, every serving families worse nightmare, that your loved one has to go to a war zone.

Now I watched a shit film the other night, it was a really really shit film however one line did resonate with me and that was “What’s more powerful than 1000 nuclear bombs? Words was the answer as words can hurt us more than bombs, very true I think. So here is Richards nuclear bombshell…..

Richard came home one weekend and sat to talk to me and the following conversation was had “Mom” “yes darling, what?” “You know I have been asking you for a dog for as long as I can remember?” “yes I replied slowly” “Well how would you feel if I went to Afghan and I didn’t come back and you denied me the one and only thing that I have ever wanted”?

Now some of you may think that was low of him (and it was) but any parent reading this will understand how that ripped my heart wide open. For the following days his words didn’t leave me and the thought of him not having a dog just ate away at my soul, how would I feel? how could I live with myself if anything happened to him? Richard always knew how to push my buttons and POW! he had hit the jackpot.
Steve was working in Switzerland at the time and so puppy preparations began and Molly joined our family.
I grew up with dogs as a child and I have never known a dog like her, she is so special. she has sat next to me throughout my illness, cried with me through nights of pain and been my source of daily exercise to get me through recovery and fit again. Steve knows I’m not well if I can’t walk Molly.
Poor Steve didn’t really have much of a say in Molly coming into our lives, poor Steve but he loves all animals and they now too share a bond and a friendship. Molly has brought us all together in an odd way, she is something to talk about, play with and fuss over. She has provided the walks where Steve and I escape together alone to chat and just be us, would we go for these walks without Molly? maybe but not like we do now because of her.
We all adore Molly and when I started this blog my mom was outraged that Molly didn’t have her own special page, so here’s your special page my dear friend Molly Moo.
PS – Richard never went to Afghan! He did go to Canada for 3 months and this is Molly greeting him after they had been apart for that time.

Oh I mentioned Steve working in Switzerland didn’t I well just for jokes I’ve attached a video message that the kids and I sent to Steve whilst he was working out there for you to enjoy and I hope you do.

Karen who is on the same journey as me which started on ward 12 in Wycombe General Hospital is always a day or too ahead of me in this game. My chemo started on Friday 5th June and she started hers on Wednesday 3rd June. Now we speak most weeks on the phone or at least text other other. Karen had already suffered so much and I texted her on 3rd to say good luck. Karen had been prescribed the same treatment as me and for the same duration, 8 cycles over 6 months. As she went first I was naturally very interested to hear how she got on as I was next.

She replied to my texts on Saturday to start with to say she was okay. I texted her on Tuesday for an update but no reply. On Wednesday I received this text “I am in hospital again!!! admitted last night dehydrated and sick. Sorry u r feeling crap too. Fed up already! Big hugs xxx”

I just couldn’t believe it, that she was again back in hospital, back to feeling crap and back to being physically sick. I just felt so sorry for her. I again then felt guilty cos by comparison as I was doing okay. I was grateful of course but my heart went out to her.

Turns out, as Karen and I spoke the other day that they stopped her chemo so she could recover. Now that raises loads of questions, Does she have to start cycle 1 again? – no was the answer and when does she start again? – 24th June was the answer. She is going to have a lower dose and this will be given through a central line and not a cannula intravenously as in her words “my veins are shagged”. So I ask another question, so if we both need 100mgs of chemo intravenously and they turn yours down to 75mgs then is that enough? and if it is enough why can’t we both have the lower dose and have less symptoms –  neither of us could answer that one.

So she starts again on Wednesday and I will be thinking of her and just hoping that it goes well. Having had to sit there for hours having chemo pumped into me and knowing how much that burns and mentally how hard it is. I said to Karen that I couldn’t imagine how much strength of character she will need to have to find for the courage to sit there again whilst it could make her feel so ill, again. She said that they had given her tranquillizers to take Tuesday night and Wednesday morning to help her. My poor friend, I can’t believe how much she has been through, how hard her journey has been so far and we are both only on the first cycle of 8.

We are all different when it comes to being open and honest but I’m afraid that I just think somethings are best not spoken about. I think I’d like to be like the Queen – nothing in my handbag, never break wind and definitely never go to the toilet, delusions of grandeur? not at all. More like just plain old fashioned shy, oh there is one exception and that’s talking to my mom, gotta love moms hey.
So I’ve been constipated all my life, not sit and strain just never going really. Weeks would go by and nothing would ever happen particularly if on holiday. My mom is the same and after dragging me to the Doctors as I child eventually one Doctor said that it was my normal and mom and I were happy with that.
Now I stayed happy with that until Harry came along and sadly I can hide no more 🙁
Early A&E investigations and diagnosis were not helped by me lying to the Doctors because Steve was with me and I when asked about bowel movements I just lied, I can’t talk poo in front of Steve!
The truth is that the month before the pain started I had the runs, now me going everyday was very very odd indeed and I remember thinking ‘that’s not right’ but I didn’t know what was going on.
When given the Movie Prep prior to the colonoscopy I remember saying I hope that’s strong stuff cos I need a rocket not laxatives, the nurse just laughed and said that it would work just fine (she obviously had had Movie Prep).
I also remember talking bowel movements with a nurse prior to surgery and me telling her of my life long problems and she again just laughed and said “well you won’t have that problem anymore after surgery” I had no idea what was ahead of me.
So after surgery where am I now? well I like to call it the one minute warning, cos that’s all you get 🙁 you can’t hold it or put it off until later. Solid is a distant memory and anything from one to six times a day is the norm.
I am lucky that I don’t have a bag as within ward 12 out of the 5 of us having bowel surgery there was only Karen and I who didn’t have a bag. I did feel sorry for the one lady with a bag and who was also going to the toilet normally too, poor thing.
It comes to a low part of your life when the first thing you think about when your asked to go anywhere is ‘where is the nearest loo’ your main focus is where is it? is it clean? is there loo roll and can I get to it within one minute?
So as time has gone by for Steve and I with recovery I have been forced to face my demons on talking toilets, it’s not been easy as I think my hubby thought I was like the queen and just never went LOL.
It’s a journey that I’m having to learn to live with and it’s hard however I do now think that I wasn’t good enough for my best mate who had to have a bag following surgery, I wasn’t there to really listen and understand her fears. Like all things in life we hear peoples problems and we try empathised but until it really effects yourself you have no real concept of anyone else’s suffering. I am however grateful to her for understanding my toilet fears now and the handy tips she has given me on sore bums, oh the conversations we have had LOL with a vodka in hand.
It’s been hard writing this as it’s my taboo subject so not much detail here but if I can give any advice at all it would be that if you are shy just dig deep and be brave, don’t lie to doctors or try to hide as like the Queen we are all human after all.

I’m very pleased with myself this morning cos I’ve discovered the meaning of life itself! What is it I hear you say, well I’m not going to just tell you, you have to go through the thought process first with me but I will say that it is only one word!

Throughout life, normally when we have time to reflect, which for me is only ever on a beach in the sunshine whilst taking a break from our fast busy lives, we ask ourselves this question, so what is it all about hey? What are we all doing here and what will it all matter anyway in 100 years when we are all dead?
So what was your answer? I could never find mine until this morning.
So if you were told one day that you only had 6 months to live, what would you do? So now your thinking of that ‘bucket list’ swimming with dolphins, climbing Mount Everest or maybe that dream holiday somewhere exotic? What makes you happy, really happy?
Steve and I could sell our house right now, pay off the mortgage and go around the world together, he would love this but I wouldn’t, why would this not make me happy? cos that’s not the meaning of my life!
Picture the scene – You hear that Putin is going to release nuclear weapons upon us and we all only have 10 minutes to live, how many of us would shout “Has anyone got a dolphin” no they wouldn’t.
So I’m in my garden this morning and it’s 7 am, I’ve been up an hour and I’m thankful I’ve survived another day on chemo and although I feel a little sick I haven’t been sick and I’m doing okay actually. I decide to water the grass as it looks dry and I’m thinking about life, what’s this all about? and that’s when it came to me. The meaning of life is one simple word, it’s small but means so much…. is it love I hear you say? no it isn’t actually it’s sharing.
Let me explain, we go through life together and share moments, share each other and it’s that that brings us true happiness. I love natural beauty and can sit at a local beauty spot and admire the view but it’s who you share that moment with that counts. As a woman you share your body for your children and as parents we share in their joys and hardships all their lives and it makes us happy. To be complete, to be whole we have to share moments with everyone and in this sharing precious memories, funny stories and sadness develop to enrich lives, not one single person can make you complete. So Steve and I could go around the world together and I’d be sharing it with my love and we would be happy but I wouldn’t be sharing it with my kids, my mom or my friends and therefore I wouldn’t truly be complete.
Grief is a terrible thing and having lost all of my family apart from my mom by the age of 30 including my beautiful sister I have realised that the thing I miss the most is sharing. I had a life with them and that ended years ago but the pain I hold is the pain of not sharing my life with them.
So there you have it! many have tried and failed to answer that question and that’s my answer to it. So share love, happiness and even sorrow as it makes us complete.
If my life like others is cut short through cancer I now know where I want to be and that’s sharing my moments good or bad with the people who make me complete and I won’t be swimming with any dolphins!

In my old pre cancer life I was always up first, same routine as everyone really, teeth, wee, feed cat, coffee and fag well only if you have a cat and smoke I suppose. This morning I woke and felt sick and empty, in the bathroom I brush my teeth with my new special needs chemo soft bristle brush and start to gag, I know that I mustn’t be sick and try to hold it together. Downstairs is a bag of drugs and anti sickness optional ones are on my mind as I hate being sick.
Downstairs the cat as ever wants her breakfast now normally the cat comes first and I look at her thinking oh my god I just can’t do this but I pull myself together and reach for the wet cat food. I now consider myself completely selfless cos I put the cat first, lucky cat hey. Tablets taken I then opt for my usual coffee and half a biscuit neither of which I can taste. It’s 6.45 and the house is quiet and I sit in my usual place in the kitchen hoping the sickness will go, which it did.
I check my phone as I always do, catching up on everyone’s life on Facebook either blessing the app for allowing me to peer into my friends and families little worlds or cursing the shit that people put on there. Richard had landed at 4.20 from Canada and it was a comfort to know he was back in England.
Rebecca, mom and Steve all woke and were I think happier that I had at least slept as the drugs you first get do mess up your sleeping pattern.
Steve and Rebecca go off to work I take my usual spot in the garden, I love being outside. Yesterday I had texted Karen to see how she was doing as she is one day ahead of me on the chemo but she hadn’t replied but then her text came in that she was back in hospital. OMG will her nightmare ever end, she has suffered so much and my heart breaks for her and her family. I reply to her text but what possible words of comfort can I give? What I don’t do is text to say ‘be strong’ or ‘stay positive’ cos like me she knows how when you hear those words you just want to punch someone!
I get to speak to my old boss, Chris and my good mate Steven and that’s it then I am asleep again and it’s 2 pm! Mary Poppins called in the afternoon (you know who you are) and she also cheered me up. I wasn’t going to post today as I felt flat but I have come to understand that this blog helps others to understand me and the journey I’m on as much as I am helping myself and I hope others in time.

Yesterday I posted my favourite things video and I want to share two more cancer chemo songs for you to listen too.
The first is Ed Sheeran with Bloodstream. I know he is talking about booze but you can also identify with the lines “I feel the chemicals burning my bloodstream, so tell me when it kicks in”
The next one is Jar of Hearts by Christina Perri, now this song is a love song but instead of thinking about a man, think of the him as cancer. I would drive home from work prior to chemo with this on full blast as you can get really angry to it, fabulous!
Flying without wings is a beautiful song and I have often cried whilst driving home from work listening to it so I hope these songs touch you too.

So it’s 8th June 2015 and my boy has turned 21years old. He is stuck in Canada with the Army and so another year goes by without sharing his birthday together, it’s been like this since he was 15. No birthday cake, no phone call but thankfully for the internet I do send messages and finally get a reply.
It’s day 4 of Chemo and apart from slight side effects I’m doing okay. I can’t touch or drink anything that’s cold it has to be room temperature and Rebecca brought me two sets of gloves to wear to handle cold things from the now demon fridge, bless her.
The 12 tablets I take each day are administered by Steve the now drug lord of the house! Not sure which tablet it is but one of them makes your bum tingle like someone has put the sweets ‘Star Dust” up there, now you have to be a child from the eighties to get that joke. Itching is the only way and I broke my nail, no sympathy for that in this house.
I think my on hand nursing team are a little disappointed that the Chemo hasn’t made me feel more ill, not that they wanted me to be ill but the build up prior to taking these chemicals was unknown. In fact they have cured my constant running to the loo all day and at this rate I’ll be heading for the laxatives, oh my good my poor bum.

I really wanted to get as much history into this blog before it went public but my best mate Nicky decided she wanted to share it and so modern technology steps in again and the world of our friends and family start to read my ramblings. Within a few hours I was contacted by so many people with messages of support and love, I can’t thank you all enough. I cried at some of these messages and if I can just help one single person through this blog then I have won. You are not alone in your pain and sorrow for dreading losing your life when it’s under threat, it’s okay to be scared and angry, it’s just not the British way to admit all those emotions so instead when asked we say “I’m fine” and cry alone.

Up at 7.30, showered at 8, breakfast, dressed and ready to go……. but am I? I have considered not doing it, scared and don’t want to do it, all normal feelings to have but just because the feelings are normal it doesn’t make then easier to handle.

About 7.30 the messages started to pour in from friends and family, god I’m so blessed to have so much support, how can I not do it for them? Still no word from my son who is in Canada serving in the Army, on exercise and can’t get in touch 🙁

Hubby ready, bag packed with a book from my Aunty Shelia, my laptop and phone oh and a packet of crisps just in case I get the munchies.

Chemo is due to start at 9.30, hubby has to start work at 10, mom is on her way down from the Midlands and not due until midday and my daughter (who offered to come with me, bless her) has gone to work. I’m glad actually, sounds odd but somethings are better to face on your own or maybe that’s just me. I don’t want to make small talk, I don’t want pity and I really don’t want someone asking me if I feel okay every 5 minutes either so I tell hubby to drop me at the front doors and to go home. So sad watching him drive away, no turning back now for me, got to be brave and just bloody get on with it! still scared silly and want to run away though.

In the ward the nurses are lovely, welcoming and let me choose my seat as I’m the first one in. Window seat picked, I thought the view might help.

First the usual checking of date of birth, address etc then the cannula goes in. Then they flush the line through, next comes two steroid injections to help with sickness that make your bum itch for two minutes, lovely, flushed through again and then comes the nasty big bag of that make you ill chemo stuff, now I’m really scared, no turning back now 🙁 off it goes and actually I feel okay, I try to read the book but I can’t concentrate, I reply to friends texts, emails and facebook posts of support, their love and thoughtfulness helped a lot.

Then an amazing woman came and offered to give me a foot rub. She was in a highly paid job, gave it all up to study massage etc and then decided to volunteer to go into hospital to help cancer patients during their treatment. There are some truly wonderful people out there, her kindness was wonderful, it was lovely to talk to a stranger, no judgement, no background, no pretending to be brave and when she asked me how I was feeling emotionally I just cried cos I could, cos she didn’t know me, I didn’t have to be strong for her. I just wanted to cry and cry but the foot rub soon brought mind back from being selfish and a wimp and back to talking to this woman who was there to rub my worries away (if only they could be) bless her.

Chemo goes in through two hours, about half way though the pain started in my arm, had to ask for a heat pad as it was getting worse. By the end of the two hours I just wanted the cannula out of me, I could feel the chemicals burning my veins, another 12 minutes of flushing the line through and I was free, what a great feeling.

Back at home I can’t touch anything that’s cold as it feel freezing to me. Cold water from the tap feels like ice. Pins and needles through my arm and fingers and the pain continues in my arm but I don’t feel sick and I don’t have diarrhea! wow chemo cured that for a day LOL.

Tea was interesting, spaghetti bolognese but by then I was wearing gloves as I can’t hold a metal knife and fork. My family tried not to take the piss but it was funny sat there in 21 degrees of heat, wearing gloves and trying to eat with plastic cutlery.

Top tips: buy gloves, get good quality plastic cutlery and don’t cook spag boll on your first night LOL

So it’s the end of chemo day and I actually feel really good. Apart from the side effects listed I’m still alive, I got through it, I only cried once and all in all I feel happier today than the previous night. One treatment down, seven to go over the next 6 months.

 

 

 

Okay so you would think that getting over bowel surgery and being almost back to normal health apart from occasional pain oh and the endless diarrhea (more on that to come in other posts) that I would be happy, wanting to spend my last night being thankful I’ve got this far. Being romantic and even wanting to make love to hubby without a condom (as there’s no sex without them for 6 months) due to my fanny being radioactive, lovely hey!

Instead I feel scared, sad, emotional, down and a little childlike in that you want to sulk so that someone will say that it’s okay, that you don’t have to take the nasty medicine. I can’t imagine those drugs being pumped into my system which are going to make me ill.

Romance and sex were not on my mind at all – would I regret it, yes and my poor hubby who has put up with so much has yet again got to put his needs second to mine, poor thing. He went to bed and an hour later he is back up as he can’t sleep, he is only like that if we argue so I know he is worried.

What to do? If ever there was a day I wanted to get as drunk as I could it was this day. Chemo due to start at 9.30, could I turn up stinking of booze? oh the shame of that, so I decided on two glasses of red wine and two bottles of beer so that wasn’t too bad was it considering how drunk I felt like getting.

I wasn’t just worried for me, this week my bowel cancer friend (met in the hospital after surgery) started her chemo two days before me and she had reacted badly, my brother in law was going the have brain surgery in Australia to remove a cyst, a great friend of mine was having her results from a cyst which was removed two weeks ago and all in all everything felt shitty.

Eventually I went to bed only to wake with bad breath and my first thought was oh no my chemo day has come 🙁 so scared