GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN
Another two and a half weeks later;
How can I possibly say I have been too busy to write this blog. I sit around, usually outside in the shade, but in glorious sunshine, in the most beautiful garden. I have been waited on hand and foot by my resident Cabin Boy.
I do tell a lie. I am becoming more active. I move around, sometimes with knickers on! In fact, as I write this, I have been wearing them for about 5 days (not the same pair) You out there will not realise how exciting this is! Oh, how you 'out there' take things for granted! Every time I go to the toilet, I sigh with relief that it didn't hurt. I get excited at small accomplishments. Haven't I been through this before some time?
This nasty gubbins I have been through has severely affected the 'stroked' bits of me. In fact I have a lot of pain in a lot of places - at least not my bottom. The pain has now found other places to attack. I have started physio with the Stroke Team, who are amazing. I also do my Pilates with my wonderful Personal Trainer - doesn't that sound smart? I owe my walking to her, without her care and encouragement over the last 12 years, I would certainly be in a wheelchair.
Anyway, the BIG news. A fully paid trip to Southampton (thank you, Jersey) We leave the house at 9.30am to catch the 11.00 flight. I was so frightened I was going to poop my pants on the plane, as I'd had pain all night, and a worrying toileting start. I wore a huge pair of incontinence knickers. They not only hurt, I walked, as if I had just come off my horse. It was all on time, even with FLYMAYBE. Lunch at the 'delightful' cafe in the hospital, & then the big appointment. It was actually lovely to see my very pregnant Anal Nurse and my very lovely Oncologist. She is gentle, caring, concerned and listens. I am so lucky to have her there for me. She gave me a good rummage around, called a physical examination, - which hurt! She then announced that the unwanted resident in my bottom had been totally evicted and obliterated! it didn't even have any Jersey housing qualifications! I always thought of it as Percy ?? So good riddance Percy, I just broke down and cried. I didn't realise how uptight I had been. She actually said I had a beautiful bottom, or maybe she said I had healed beautifully? Do you remember the song "If I said I had a beautiful bottom could I hold it against you"? - perhaps a slight variation there, but it works well. The first check of my next 5 year journey has gone well. I have various scans etc in 6 weeks time. My Doc is planning to hold on to me for the duration, I don't enjoy the travelling, but there will be some continuity and I feel comfortable and confident with her.
We treated ourselves to the Priority Lounge on the way home, for the 5 hour wait for the 7.50pm flight. Being the not backwards in coming forwards sort, I asked if they had any Prosecco. They told me that we would have to buy a bottle for £15.00 - needless to say, we didn't. Mr Bloke had to drive anyway. As we sat down, a kind member of staff approached bearing two glasses of Prosecco on the house. I think she felt sorry for us. I thanked her & told her we were having a little celebration. She asked what for. I told her it was to say goodbye to a tumour. She proceeded to hug me, and with eyes filling up told me she was 3 years post bowel cancer treatment. She asked where mine was. I had to whisper. The next thing she arrives with a bottle on ice! Well, what do you do? & Mr B could only have two glasses. I don't think I pooped my pants on the flight home, or even cared!
So a grand high for a couple of days, and then a crash. A reminder that my Oncologist told me that it would take a year for me to fully recover. It is still early days, and I have days when I am unable to function, and feel very low. I appreciate the dear friends who have stayed by my side. I feel a bit of a prisoner in my own home, but am now starting to venture out.
I may not do another blog. It has given me some relief to be able to write this, and lovely comments from some people have made it worth while. You may be surprised to hear I could have had a lot of new male friends on FaceBook. Elmer from Arkansas and Dwayne from Ohio seem to want to be my friend, along with a few others. Surely it could never be because I have mentioned (whispered) the word anal? Are they plain 'assholes' with a fetish for bottoms?
My readership has dropped from approx 300 to around 90 over the last 2 blogs. I suspect I am now getting boring, so probably no more blogs. I will finish with a poem I cannot claim credit for. I have pinched it from one of my fellow battle maidens on the MacMillan site. She has agreed that I can use it, apologies for some minor changes to suit, but it really does say it all.
There's an element of nasty, the doctor said to me one day,
I'm afraid it's anal cancer, and it won't just go away.
Here's some tissues for the crying and a free parking pass,
Yes, they give you discount when you've cancer of the arse.
So then came all the prodding plus MRIs, CTs and PETs.
We'll stick you in this tube to diagnose, it simply is the best.
No worries, you're claustrophobic? We'll drug you to the nines.
Just lie there and hallucinate, just be sure you stay supine.
You'll have chemo and radiotherapy, we'll give you the double hit.
The side effects are gruesome, in fact you'll feel like shit.
"It will feel just like sunburn" - my Oncologist is a liar!
Forget that, it's more like acid, raw flesh, a cheese grater and barbed wire!
The Radiotherapists are amazing, they've played a major part.
They explained the complex imaging, even highlighting a fart!
My Doctor is amazing, considerate and kind,
Anybody better, would be impossible to find.
My flowing locks are still present- or at least those upon my head,
I've spent 10 weeks reclining, updating Facebook from my bed.
I act just like a Princess, carrying a cushion wherever I go.
My handbag is stuffed with Loperamide, clean pants and loo roll.
Now the treatment has all finished and we play the waiting game.
In weak moments, I wonder if I'll ever be the same again.
Then I remind myself I'm a warrior, a bad ass (literally), a survivor,
I've SO much to live for, and this remains my sustaining driver.
I want to say a big thank you, my support has been immense.
Soon I'll be referring to these shenanigans in the past tense.
All the cards, presents and flowers have really meant so much,
Yes cancer is an arse hole, but I'm kicking it into touch!
How can I possibly say I have been too busy to write this blog. I sit around, usually outside in the shade, but in glorious sunshine, in the most beautiful garden. I have been waited on hand and foot by my resident Cabin Boy.
I do tell a lie. I am becoming more active. I move around, sometimes with knickers on! In fact, as I write this, I have been wearing them for about 5 days (not the same pair) You out there will not realise how exciting this is! Oh, how you 'out there' take things for granted! Every time I go to the toilet, I sigh with relief that it didn't hurt. I get excited at small accomplishments. Haven't I been through this before some time?
This nasty gubbins I have been through has severely affected the 'stroked' bits of me. In fact I have a lot of pain in a lot of places - at least not my bottom. The pain has now found other places to attack. I have started physio with the Stroke Team, who are amazing. I also do my Pilates with my wonderful Personal Trainer - doesn't that sound smart? I owe my walking to her, without her care and encouragement over the last 12 years, I would certainly be in a wheelchair.
Anyway, the BIG news. A fully paid trip to Southampton (thank you, Jersey) We leave the house at 9.30am to catch the 11.00 flight. I was so frightened I was going to poop my pants on the plane, as I'd had pain all night, and a worrying toileting start. I wore a huge pair of incontinence knickers. They not only hurt, I walked, as if I had just come off my horse. It was all on time, even with FLYMAYBE. Lunch at the 'delightful' cafe in the hospital, & then the big appointment. It was actually lovely to see my very pregnant Anal Nurse and my very lovely Oncologist. She is gentle, caring, concerned and listens. I am so lucky to have her there for me. She gave me a good rummage around, called a physical examination, - which hurt! She then announced that the unwanted resident in my bottom had been totally evicted and obliterated! it didn't even have any Jersey housing qualifications! I always thought of it as Percy ?? So good riddance Percy, I just broke down and cried. I didn't realise how uptight I had been. She actually said I had a beautiful bottom, or maybe she said I had healed beautifully? Do you remember the song "If I said I had a beautiful bottom could I hold it against you"? - perhaps a slight variation there, but it works well. The first check of my next 5 year journey has gone well. I have various scans etc in 6 weeks time. My Doc is planning to hold on to me for the duration, I don't enjoy the travelling, but there will be some continuity and I feel comfortable and confident with her.
We treated ourselves to the Priority Lounge on the way home, for the 5 hour wait for the 7.50pm flight. Being the not backwards in coming forwards sort, I asked if they had any Prosecco. They told me that we would have to buy a bottle for £15.00 - needless to say, we didn't. Mr Bloke had to drive anyway. As we sat down, a kind member of staff approached bearing two glasses of Prosecco on the house. I think she felt sorry for us. I thanked her & told her we were having a little celebration. She asked what for. I told her it was to say goodbye to a tumour. She proceeded to hug me, and with eyes filling up told me she was 3 years post bowel cancer treatment. She asked where mine was. I had to whisper. The next thing she arrives with a bottle on ice! Well, what do you do? & Mr B could only have two glasses. I don't think I pooped my pants on the flight home, or even cared!
So a grand high for a couple of days, and then a crash. A reminder that my Oncologist told me that it would take a year for me to fully recover. It is still early days, and I have days when I am unable to function, and feel very low. I appreciate the dear friends who have stayed by my side. I feel a bit of a prisoner in my own home, but am now starting to venture out.
I may not do another blog. It has given me some relief to be able to write this, and lovely comments from some people have made it worth while. You may be surprised to hear I could have had a lot of new male friends on FaceBook. Elmer from Arkansas and Dwayne from Ohio seem to want to be my friend, along with a few others. Surely it could never be because I have mentioned (whispered) the word anal? Are they plain 'assholes' with a fetish for bottoms?
My readership has dropped from approx 300 to around 90 over the last 2 blogs. I suspect I am now getting boring, so probably no more blogs. I will finish with a poem I cannot claim credit for. I have pinched it from one of my fellow battle maidens on the MacMillan site. She has agreed that I can use it, apologies for some minor changes to suit, but it really does say it all.
There's an element of nasty, the doctor said to me one day,
I'm afraid it's anal cancer, and it won't just go away.
Here's some tissues for the crying and a free parking pass,
Yes, they give you discount when you've cancer of the arse.
So then came all the prodding plus MRIs, CTs and PETs.
We'll stick you in this tube to diagnose, it simply is the best.
No worries, you're claustrophobic? We'll drug you to the nines.
Just lie there and hallucinate, just be sure you stay supine.
You'll have chemo and radiotherapy, we'll give you the double hit.
The side effects are gruesome, in fact you'll feel like shit.
"It will feel just like sunburn" - my Oncologist is a liar!
Forget that, it's more like acid, raw flesh, a cheese grater and barbed wire!
The Radiotherapists are amazing, they've played a major part.
They explained the complex imaging, even highlighting a fart!
My Doctor is amazing, considerate and kind,
Anybody better, would be impossible to find.
My flowing locks are still present- or at least those upon my head,
I've spent 10 weeks reclining, updating Facebook from my bed.
I act just like a Princess, carrying a cushion wherever I go.
My handbag is stuffed with Loperamide, clean pants and loo roll.
Now the treatment has all finished and we play the waiting game.
In weak moments, I wonder if I'll ever be the same again.
Then I remind myself I'm a warrior, a bad ass (literally), a survivor,
I've SO much to live for, and this remains my sustaining driver.
I want to say a big thank you, my support has been immense.
Soon I'll be referring to these shenanigans in the past tense.
All the cards, presents and flowers have really meant so much,
Yes cancer is an arse hole, but I'm kicking it into touch!
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