I can laugh now. If I think back to before, to Christmas and New Year its full of beautiful but raw pictures, of the garden full of candles on New Year, the fire we built then and out the front on Christmas Day, sitting with our son and his partner, them on the wall, me shielding. I remember getting diagnosed, and saying I want to laugh and dance my way through this, but I couldn’t. I have no memory of laughing, dancing yes, but crying whilst we danced, my wife holding me, the candles and stars shining but fear like a cloud hanging around us.
I’m now in a different place, we can both laugh, digest and reflect.
The day after the positive results last week there was a follow up phone call by the Breast Care Team (MacMillan) who suggested I ring the GP this week and start taking the Hormone Therapy tablets, Letrozole. At the same time I became aware of this intense pain in the site of the cancer and operation. On Friday I spoke with the Care Team, sent photographs and was reassured it would settle, Seroma (fluid buildup). On Monday of this week, I happened to be speaking with the Surgeon and he invited me back to the hospital so he could see for himself. He was not worried, adding it wasn’t going to lead to a trip back to theatre, something that hadn’t entered my head. He offered to drain it; I asked the following ‘will it be sore? How long will it take? Will it hurt?’ I said yes then no, then yes back to no. I couldn’t face another needle, so came home with Arnica tablets and cream.
Yesterday I was aware I hadn’t rang the GP about the tablets. To explain – with my fear taking a well-earned break, I was able to read and digest information. I visited the PREDICT website, it’s here you type in your cancer, surgery and it gives you a predicted length of life with or without the hormone therapy. The percentage difference was slightly higher with the tablets. I started to feel nostalgic about my estrogen, thinking how this enabled me to have our son, thinking about my bones, strength and all things that make me who I am. Later in the afternoon, when out walking my new sunshine yellow trainers, the wife said ‘but the estrogen also gave you the cancer’. I wasn’t getting how it all works. I had a conference call with our two friends, one who has had breast cancer and her wife, also an oncologist, both have stepped with us throughout. We talked about all things side effects, including its effect on your sex drive, libido and the fact you can get lube on prescription (silver lining). There are some logistic to sort out, like ringing the GP, the receptionist writing down the request and which one of us is going to collect from the pharmacist.
Then I heard it, the tablets help take out the cancer cells that might be still there. If I was to draw a picture of this moment, I can see I had become an armchair supporter, able to watch from the sidelines, as my cancer is out now, and I’m ok. These words jolted me back onto the pitch, back in the room. I could hear the words spoken when I was given the diagnosis ‘we are treating you to cure cancer’. The tablets and radiotherapy are part of this, like the surgery, so of course I’ll take the tablets, what was I thinking.
I rang the GP and the tablets start tomorrow.
Catrina
