Mine's Broken

I’m just two days away from completing the first cycle of chemo I thought today about how I haven’t really explained much about what I have to take in terms of drugs. As this blog is to help people I thought I’d do the science bit for you. Xelox is an infusion of Oxalipatin and Capecitabine. An infusion! it sounds like a blend of tea or a marinade for meat. Oxalipatin is the shit that burns through your veins via a drip and the Capecitabine is the tablet form. The dose in the tablets given is based on your weight, height etc. I take 1650mg (4 actual tablets) twice a day. Which will have to be increased if I keep putting weight on at the current rate LOL.

I need to share with you how much I hate taking tablets. As a young girl probably about 10 years old I had to take tablets for something, I can’t remember what was wrong with me. I just couldn’t physically swallow them. My mom, trying very hard to help me, tried hiding them in food, cutting them up and all other mom tricks she knew to get me to swallow them but nothing worked. As a last resort she placed a pound note on the table (yes the old green paper note) and said “if you swallow the tablet the £1 is yours” well I considered it for a nano second and down the tablet went in one gulp. Mom was delighted and so was I as I really did think that I was going to get £1 every time I took a tablet! The damage was done, I had proved I could swallow tablets but I have always hated it and often gag. So for me taking 12 (for the first 3 days) and then 8 everyday for two weeks is hard. At tablet time twice a day, I still have to have a treat for when I have taken the tablets, another reason why I’m gaining weight i think, I also have to punch the air saying “champion” as if I’ve accomplished some great achievement.

‘All you can eat’, sounds good hey! so now your reading this and thinking of a Chinese buffet, spare ribs, crispy duck etc well I’m sorry to disappoint you but that’s not what I’m thinking about.
On Sunday Steve and I were walking Molly over the park and we were talking about how life changes with cancer. This is an important conversation I’m about to have with Steve as I’m due in one week to go into hospital to have the second cycle intravenously and it is the Oxalipatin that burns your veins and your arm is out of action for about 5 days. My fanny as previously discussed in the blog is radioactive and so is my mouth. Kissing is now reduced to a peck, no open mouth action and definitely no tongues! My left arm is weak and hurts sometimes due to the swollen lymph nodes and so there is not much of me that I can offer to my husband (in the biblical sense) that is okay and usable, oh my feet are okay, LOL. This is important as I need to decided which arm I am going to have the Oxalipatin shit pumped into a week on Friday.
My wonderful hubby Steve just said that “pre cancer I was like an ‘all you can eat’ buffet. That everything was on the menu, the menu varied throughout the year like the seasons but someone has reduced the menu from the delicious all you can eat to make your own sandwiches”. Now I thought this was funny and decided to share it with you all as he is right. Top tip, before chemo go for the all you can eat option, stuff yourself silly because the options on the menu reduce quickly depending on your side effects. Or if sex is a problem for you to discuss with your partner then try the analogy of the buffet to break the ice :-).

In the last 24 hours I have been contacted by some lovely people. Old friends from school, new people I don’t actually know and current supporters in my journey. I thank you all for your kind messages. One made me very sad as it was someone who had cancer in the girlie bits. They had a full hysterectomy and because they are okay and clear said in their message that they didn’t like to talk about it as their cancer wasn’t as bad as mine. I’m sad that we feel the need to grade our cancers. For me cancer is cancer. The journey my old friend had been on was no less traumatic than mine. The fear, worry, tests, hope would have been the same. That moment when you truly have to look at your life and say to yourself “oh no I stand to lose all that I have and that is precious to me” is sobering. If you are at stage 1 or stage 4 you still go through the same emotional trauma, you just have a better chance of survival at stage 1. Please don’t anyone reading this ever feel that you have to belittle what you went through or are going through as cancer is cancer. If you need to talk about it then do and I’m listening, I’m here to try and help if I can and you don’t have to put a number to your cancer as it’s all shit to me.

So I decided to ask my Facebook friends for help by promoting this blog through sharing it on their Facebook sites. OMG I was so shocked at the response. I have a tracker on my blog so I can see if it’s reaching people and wow the power of the internet. I had over 400 views in a few hours from all over the world. Previously I think the traffic was just coming from my mom and hubby lol.

It’s been a funny old day. Even though I was told I couldn’t work I managed to convince Ann (HR) to let me go into my local store to work for a few hours and I was able to take Mary out for coffee, we took a selfie and sent it to Ann to make her smile.

Over the past few days there has been a birth and a death in my circle of family and friends. Firstly baby Jacob was born on Saturday, a new nephew for us and a wonderful addition to the Guy family. He his 9 weeks premature but doing well. The death, I can’t comment on yet as it’s not public knowledge and I don’t wish to offend anyone.
After leaving work I went and delivered some flowers and a card to let them know I cared.
After a sleep cos just being away from home for 4 hours took it out of me, not that I let anyone see that. I just kept the ‘I’m fine’ face on. I finished my last historical post that I wanted to put on my blog and plucked up the courage to ask people I knew to share this blog. I was touched by the messages I received from people I knew and didn’t know. A very kind person called Anne a friend of Michelle’s from school is going to add me to her ‘Race for Life’ list that people wear on their backs. I’ve done the ‘Race for Life’ locally with Rebecca and we did it with pride for my Dad but I never thought I would be relying on others to fund raise to save my life and the thousands diagnosed everyday in Britain.
I have Rita who burns candles for me every week in her Catholic church and Nicky’s mom and dad (dear old friends) who add me to the prayer list every week at our local Methodist church back in the Midlands on Stream Road where I attended and my children were christened. So I have two denominations covered LOL.
Another friend sent me a message about flowers in grief and I agree with her thoughts on this. We all feel the need to send people flowers when we want to show we are thinking of them. Actually what we should consider is buying them a good bottle of wine or a packet of fags, a good point well made Jo. Today when I dropped off flowers to my friend who has sadly lost her child I did actually think I’d rather post a packet of fags through the door, at least she would enjoy them and it might just make her smile briefly through the grief. Sorry to any kids reading this as I shouldn’t promote smoking (that’s Health and Safety covered again). I also hate ‘With Sympathy’ cards too as they never contain the right words to express how much you wish you could take all their pain away for them. So I, like so many of us stare at the inside of these cards and just think, oh shit what the hell do I write to make them feel any better? Like most of us I rehearse what I’m going to write in my head and it sounds okay up there, but when it comes to actually writing it down I just go for short and sweet in the vain hope that the receiving person gets what we were trying to say. What I always want to write in these cards is ‘ain’t life just shit sometimes’ but I don’t.
So no pressure then in terms of this blog. I have to keep it real and up to date if I want to help others. So back to cancer it is. The chemo side effects are completely liveable with now and I’m used to them and the way they make me feel. Of the pages of side effects that are possible in the leaflets I have experienced a few of them and with just 3 days to go to finishing round one I’m upbeat and I know that I can cope. The side effect that I didn’t expect was weight gain, I’m putting on the pounds and I don’t know whether it’s the steroids or the large cartons of cranberry juice I’ve been drinking everyday, whoops! I looked at the calories today on the back of the carton and was horrified to discover that I was drinking half of my daily calorie allowance in cranberry juice and having normal food on top. When I told Steve he just laughed and said “have you not seen the amount of calories there are in beer? but it’s the juice that has to go, you have to get your priorities right in life and who wants to be fat and sober, not me!
The other sad thing today was buying a ‘Father’s Day’ card for my hubby. Anyone who has lost their dad will get this. Oh what I wouldn’t give to buy and give my dad a card on Sunday or just to have another 5 minutes with him. Life is bollocks! when I was 16 I thought I knew it all, When I was 18 I thought I knew it all, at 21 I thought I definitely know it all now, and so it went on as did the years. The truth is life teaches you some lessons too late. Loving people, showing and telling them how much they mean to you, or just taking time out of your busy life to spend time with those you love is so important. We all take it for granted that they will always be there, this is not a great plan. One day you will turn around and they will not be there and you mourn for all that lost time. I get jealous of people buying father’s day cards as I want to buy one too for my dad but he isn’t here to give it to. So I like many just let the day pass, celebrate with the dad’s we do know and remember our own with great love and affection.

Forgot to mention that following yesterday’s post you will know that I love the plaster on my neck as it shows the world I have a thing, something is wrong. The photo yesterday was taken for my mate Nicky as I was on the phone to her when Steve took it to show her my wonderful plaster. She said that it was one up from a plaster and could almost be called a dressing, I was happy with that 🙂 Steve took my dressing off tonight and the smallest mark possible greeted him, he burst out laughing at my wound 🙁 it was so small that I have to admit it wasn’t really noticeable at all 🙁 so I’m back to no dressing, no visible sign there’s something wrong and no sympathy 🙁 oh well at least you lot reading this know my pain and I thank you for that.

Since starting this blog my mom reads every post and has become my editor, so if you find any mistakes then please feel free to contact her.
Last week she said to me, after I’d had a rant on here about some of the stupid things people say to people with cancer “what on earth do you want people to say to you?” and it got me thinking that I should try to help people on this topic and not just rant about what people say.
Please let me explain why I object to the one I find the most upsetting, which is when people say “you have to keep fighting”

Now I do understand that people feel they have to say something and they want to be positive for you and themselves but just consider this fighting rubbish for a moment.
I can’t fight cancer, my body has tried to fight cancer but it lost and Harry the bowel tumor developed. My body needs help to fight cancer hence the chemo. The problems at the moment with my lymph nodes are because either they are full of just gunk or they are full of cancer cells which my body isn’t fighting to well. I’ll post and let you all know when those results come in. Either way my body is a bit of a light weight on this fighting front and Mohamed Ali just keeps on taking his punches.
If after suffering with cancer, and for some people they do loose their lives to this shitty disease is it that they didn’t fight hard enough? is it that they feel guilty that they didn’t fight hard enough. The phrase ‘we are all fighting for you’ is also up there in terms of a stupid thing to say as again, as if someone doesn’t survive then is it the families lack of fight that caused it.
Karen and I are on similar journey’s and almost parallel in terms of time scale, is her family fighting less than mine? No of course not and if either of us don’t make it into remission does that mean that one of us has fought harder than the other? no it doesn’t.
When I told Ann from HR about my lymph node problem and that I had to have more tests, she just said oh bugger! Beautiful, words spoken like someone who knows how this shit feels. She didn’t say “oh you’ll be fine I’m sure” or anything else that is guaranteed to shut down any conversation with anyone dealing with cancer. Sometimes it’s okay to just say “that’s shit” or just to say nothing at all but just really listen to someone tell you wants happening in their world of cancer. Alison and Nicky are also very good at knowing what to say to me and I cherish them just being there for me to talk too. Leanne just makes me laugh as she will try to wind me up every time by saying “be positive hey mate”. Bless all of the special people in my life as it’s you lot who I actually feel for. Before I had Harry I don’t think I would have known what to say either.
Anyone who is reading this who has cancer to help your friends and family try this phrase on them as it does really work. So you tell them whatever it is, normally bad news following test results etc and before they can get to respond to you with “you’ve got to fight this” you hit them with my favourite to make them laugh and say “yes but at least I’ve still got my health hey” guaranteed laughter, or you will get at least of giggle from them followed by “oh that’s awful” either way you have won because you have brought laughter instead of despair.
Talking of laughter and you may think that cancer is nothing to laugh about but your wrong. Laughter is great and if you can laugh at yourself you have definitely won. I have a cancer joke for you. ‘Oh my god’ I hear you say you can’t tell a joke about cancer, well yes you can. Here it is and tell me you don’t smile. If you don’t then check your pulse as I think that you have have died, here goes…….

Doctor, leaning over a completely empty hospital bed: “The surgery went well. It had spread but I’m quite confident we got it all.”

LOL LOL LOL LOL

Monday 15th June, biopsy day! We had all agreed the plan the day before. Up by 8, breakfast, chemo tablets and leave the house just after 9.15 as per instructions as we had to be there an hour before the appointment. The other instruction was to wear loose clothing. Mom and I arrived as planned, on time and checked in at reception. There was an unusual amount of people around the desk as they had had a new computer system installed and it wasn’t going too well, theirs was broken.
We were told to go into the ultrasound waiting room. Mom and I had brought newspapers and started to read what was happening in the world outside of cancer and tests, like either of us really cared but you have to go through the motions of passing the time away with something. Mom always choose the ‘Daily hate’ Tory scum loving rag blah but she justifies it by saying she just likes doing the crosswords in it. If Steve was with me he would have chosen the Independent (he is the brains of the house) and I had chosen the Mirror as there are more pictures than words and I like the agony aunt column.
The last time I had been in the Xray department with my mom was the day I got into the gown of shame to be told the CT scanner was broken and the nurse that had to tell me that day did not have an easy time from me. So we sat in the cold clinical waiting room with just one piece of wall art to look at and waited. Why the hell did I have to be here an hour before, I just didn’t understand at all as 1/2 hour had past and nothing had happened apart from the other two people waiting had been called through and with no one else in the room but me, surely I was next.
Then she appeared, the same lady who had to tell me the CT scanner had broken one my previous visit. She reminds me of a lady who works in my store, small thin Asian lady who suffers with a lack of confidence. I have been told I can be intimidating and these sort of people just bring out the worst in me as I could chew them up and spit them out for breakfast. She saw us waiting and I could instantly read her mind, she was thinking, oh no it’s her again. She walked towards us and started to explain about the new computer system “it’s okay I know, we have been told” I said in my shut up and go away voice. Unsteady of her appropriate stance to take with me she then said “are you waiting for an ultrasound scan?” I was tempted to say why else would I be sat in the bloody Ultrasound waiting room for, but I didn’t, I just replied in my sarcastic voice ‘yes’. She then asked me if it was for my neck? What the hell does it have to do with you was what I wanted to say but again didn’t and just replied yes. She then hurried away as she could tell that we were never going to be best friends. My mom laughed as she knows me too well and said “you couldn’t write it could you but I know that you will” and we both laugh at that.
A lovely Australian nurse turned up next however for the past 20 minutes mom and I had tried to complete various puzzles in her daily hate and it had turned us into a pair giggling girls over everything. One of our giggles was over my tummy as I was in my leggings, t-shirt and cardigan as per instructions, loose clothing, oh and my best bra of course. My tummy however is getting bigger everyday and in the right position in leggings it looks like a bouncy castle when you shake it. Steve says I’m mad to worry about it but I do as all of my clothes will have to be replaced soon at this rate. I’m a size 8 bottoms and a size 10 on top on average which I know is not big but us girls do worry about wobbly bits. As I wobbled my tummy for my mom to make her laugh I did share with her the irony of it all, was I the only person to get bowel cancer and actually put weight on! That’s just weird isn’t it? My mom mentioned to the nurse that it was cold in the waiting room and was she was offered a blanket, oh the shame, I couldn’t let her sit with a blanket over her, so it was agreed that she could come into the ultrasound room when I went in as it was warmer in there.
Anyway back to the moment and the new Australian nurse was asking why we had turned up an hour prior to the appointment? It turns out after a few phone calls that with my letter I had been sent a very old instruction information leaflet and that they didn’t even know that it was still on the system!
We were then taken through to meet Dr Woo, who looked about 15 years old and resembled Psy. The nurse said that he was a lovely man and that he looked after his team. I think that this was code for ‘he’s a great laugh pissed at the Christmas Party when Gangham Style comes on as he can do all the moves.
Dr Woo was lovely and with trolley assembled and bed maneuvered to get into my neck with ease he started taking biopsies. The local anesthetic helped ease the discomfort and he prepared me for the gun shooting noise that I would hear when he was doing the deed. It sounded like an ear piercing gun. I lay there as still as possible as we mustn’t make a fuss. A single tear rolled from my right eye and the lovely nurse asked if I was okay. I thought back to the nasty colonoscopy incident and thought, what a contrast. Do our nursing teams really understand how much their kind words mean to us? Dr Woo took two biopsies and that was it, job done. The nurse said that I’d been so good she was going to give me a sticker but I didn’t get one. I did however get a plaster on my neck, wow a plaster everyone can see, excellent I thought. If you have a visible plaster people can see there is something wrong. There aren’t any plasters for cancer and heart break so it’s hidden away from everyone.
Dr Woo asked me how I had found the proceedure, I replied that next to major bowel surgery it was fine, which made him smile. Mom then decided to tell them that they would be appearing in my blog. OMG mom you can’t tell them that, but of course she was right. For me to reach the people I want to help they are actually the people I need to be talking too.
We had to wait for 1/2 hour to make sure I was okay, so back in front of reception in the busy Xray department we waited. One of the main problems with hospitals is that they are mainly full with sick people, all at different stages on life’s journey of shit. Outside it’s another lovely sunny day with the majority of people just doing normal stuff and for some the day is just full of pain, tests and worry. There was a traffic jam of hospital beds all trying to jostle into position their patients in order for whatever tests had been ordered. Then a trolly went past us with an entourage of medical staff and machines, whoever was in that bed was obviously not well at all and as the bed went past us it was a young man who, as predicted didn’t look well at all. His poor family was my only thought, his poor mom.
We were eventually told we could go 🙂 I was soon back home, in my garden with a coffee and a fag. The sun was out, the birds were singing and I was back home and safe. You would think I would be happy but mom and I just sat silence. The bitch of it is that going into hospital and having tests reminds you that you are ill. I have cancer and when you say it or talk about it, it slaps you in the face again. The other elephant in the room is that we are all now back to the waiting game and we all really don’t want these results.

After two coffees and another fag I text Rebecca, Emma, Alison and Nicky to make them laugh about the fact that I almost had a sticker for being a good girl and that the blog would be up soon (my biggest fans see) And then I’m sad again, not the cancer thing but the fact that it’s stock take in my store today and for the first time in 4 years, that’s 8 stock takes I’m not there. I’m missing it, I’m not there to help Emma and I’m not there to shout at Troy (my Operations Manager) who I do like to shout at occasionally and on a stock take it’s kind of traditional. I’m sorry Emma for not being there. Will I be there for the next one in 6 months? you bet I will 🙂

As soon as I had posted the ‘Cancer coming out’ post on facebook I was so touched by the cards, flowers, presents and messages I received and that I do consider myself very blessed everyday. For weeks we had flowers everywhere at home, we ran out of vases and started using pint glasses, they were in every room including the loo! Now that’s posh hey.
The cards remained up for weeks and one day looking at them all I did think to myself how long can you leave up greeting cards that say ‘Get Well Soon’ when we were looking at the best part of a year of treatment?
Now to those of you reading this who sent me a card I don’t want you to think of me as ungrateful but I wasn’t going to ‘Get Well Soon’ and it started me thinking. The greeting card industry have missed a trick, anyone with cancer is not going to ‘Get Well Soon’ and ‘Thinking of You’ cards are just to general or remind me of bereavement and I think there is a gap in the market.
I shared my thoughts on this with Leanne who actually agrees with me and she sent me some of her designs for the front cover of cards that should be available in the shops for such occasions like cancer as an alternative.

Oh and here is a photo of Leanne who took me for a meal two days before chemo started, bless her and thanks Leanne 🙂

I can assure you that I have kept all of my cards and they will be treasured, I just think I need to go into the card design business or at least Leanne should 🙂

On 28th May I went for a mammogram. I was invited to be part of a trial locally to see how many more lives could be saved by starting to breast screen women from the age of 47 and not at the normal age of 50.
When the letter came through I did phone them and say that I had stage 3 bowel cancer and I’ve had 3 CT scan in 3 months and was it really worth it but they said that the mammogram detected cancer cells that a CT scan couldn’t and that if I got the okay to do it from the oncologist that they would still have me on the trial.
My mom said that a mammogram was painful and she didn’t like it, my mom was one of the ones at the front of the queue for breasts as was my lovely daughter Rebecca.
Compared with other tests I’ve had to endure over the past 3 months I thought it was okay actually and not painful at all, uncomfortable maybe and I did ask the lady if my tits would go back to their normal shape after being squashed but she assured me they would.
Anyway the letter came this morning and there is no sign of breast cancer and I don’t have to go again for 3 years, happy days! Now we aren’t used to getting good medical news in this house and I was dreading the results coming back in but there you have it, my tits are cancer free, good news at last 🙂

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.