Cancerversary

Cancerversary (noun)

A date chosen to commemorate surviving cancer, a milestone defined by you (the survivor), which can be any of the following:

• the date of diagnosis.
I still HAD cancer then, so this doesn’t make sense to me.
• the date of the operation to remove the cancer.
Am not celebrating the addition of the plastic fantastic! Besides, this would be in September and way too close to the start of the school year.
• the date of the first chemo treatment.
Now THAT is a day I definitely don’t want to remember! Wish that chemo-brain would erase THIS day.
• the date of the final chemo treatment.

This one. I choose this one! Besides, it is in February which seems like a good month to have a celebration, don’t ask me why because I just don’t know.   

This makes my cancerversary the 5th of February and I hereby claim this date forevermore.

Whilst I do recall other dates, such as the day I found the lumps and the day I got the official diagnosis, these are not really dates I want to remember publicly.   These are more like dates for quiet contemplation and reflection and, to be honest, some silent castigation.

Here’s to a cancer-free future!

On the occasion of my fortieth birthday

When I awoke this morning, I was forty. It is quite unreal. Forty year olds are meant to be adults and do adult things like be married and have families and know what they want to do with their lives and know who they are. I still don’t feel like an adult at times and often wonder when someone is going to spot the imposter parading about in the adult section and kick me out.

Forty. Another milestone met. I am not really one for celebrating birthdays but today did make me look back at other milestones across the years. Some are societal, such as hitting a certain birthday, but most are more personal events so today has been bitter sweet. It also made me question what I am doing and where I am going.

Time moves on and I think back to the first birthday after my mother died with a sense of shock. She has been gone for a quarter of my life and that thought fills me with such sadness. I know how she would have responded to my email in September – she would have booked the next flight out! I think of all the things she has missed: her grand kids and some big birthdays, successes she would have celebrated and failures she would have commiserated over. I still miss her everyday and wonder if my wanderings are a way of running away from the lack of her existence.

Other milestones are less emotional and more obvious, such as previous birthdays or events I recall from living in various countries. I will certainly not be forgetting living here – the place I found a few lumps and lost a breast! That said, had I been elsewhere, the outcome may not have been the same and I may have had to return to the UK for treatment. Some milestones I have yet to appreciate, although I am sure that time will come.

One milestone I have met today is that of being a non-smoker when I turn forty. I found a packet of cigarettes hidden away today and gave in to the impulse to smoke one after being smoke free for several months. I felt nothing really, and am glad. Glad that I didn’t enjoy the sensation and glad that I couldn’t really understand what had had such a hold over me for so long. Long live the e-cig!

My celebration this evening consists of a few friends and a lot of Greek food at a local hotel which is featuring a Greek chef. I am looking forward to some memories of my time in Greece and, hopefully, some of my favourite foods too.

Delaying celebrations

Four weeks past my final chemotherapy session, I am yet to experience the expected jubilation about the end of my treatment. Whilst there are still other treatments I have to undergo, the worst part is now over as long as a) my heart remains strong and b) cancer isn’t found elsewhere. All that is left is being sent into a fake menopause. You’d think I would be dancing in the streets and shouting it out to all and sundry. I’m not.

Unfortunately, other things have overshadowed what I imagined being one great big party. A cake had even been planned (I wasn’t going to bake it though!) in the guise of a pink ribbon. However, I find that I simply can’t summon up the emotional wherewithal to be happy about having no more chemo or even returning to work, both things I was seriously looking forward to a mere couple of months ago.

So, what changed? A couple of things did:

Some folk that had, superficially at least, appeared supportive and understanding turned out not to be, leaving me with a bitter taste in my mouth and a timetable I may not be able to fulfil to the best of my ability. Extended periods of concentration still leave me exhausted so I could be dozing off at work. It is a pity really as popping into work every week was one of the highlights of the last few months and it now all seems soured. I feel like something of an idiot for continuing to go in and doing the work that I did when I could have spent that time on other things. Now, instead of being pleased to be back, I resent it instead.

My sister, who had been living with me whilst, theoretically at least, advancing her qualifications has now returned home. I told her two months ago that she had to leave by mid-year as she had done no advancing and she decided to leave once my last cycle was over instead of renewing her visa for another three months. It is oddly quiet without her here even though we hadn’t had much in the way of extended communication over the last couple of months. Apathy and lethargy combined to leave us sat in silence most days.

As a result, all I have felt for the last month is anger and resentment. A bit difficult to engender any excitement or celebration out of those two emotions. I am hopeful that a week back at work, with all the vagaries of the teenage mind, might blow away most of the negative emotions. If not, there is always Easter and my long awaited visitors to entertain.

The Final Countdown

Not the cheesy eighties song, more like a NASA rocket style countdown.  Do they still send those things up?

I have FIVE: count them – one, two, three, four and five days until my last chemo session.  Every day after that is a day into recovering from the bleurgh that is my current state of being.  Grateful though I am that having chemo hasn’t included the full range of side effects that I am aware that others suffer, I am more than ready to be able to concentrate for more than a couple of hours, stay awake all day and sleep through a night. I sound a bit like a baby, don’t I? Anyone want to adopt me?

Looking back over the last few months, I do occasionally think to myself: ‘What have you accomplished?’ I was determined to use my time well. After all, we have all read about the various folk who have done crazy things like run marathons whilst undergoing treatment for cancer.  (Mind you, hats off to anyone that runs marathons anyway!) I had a variety of ideas how I could help at work and things I could do at home.

My point being, to misquote Robert Burns,  is that the best laid plans often go awry.  I can’t say there has been much in the way of grief, but there has been pain and a distinct lack of joy – not that cancer promises any anyway, I merely hoped to keep myself occupied and my mind (and perhaps body) active. Fatigue and a lack of direction scuppered those plans. Not actually having a reason to wake up every the morning is highly demoralising in terms of keeping active, mentally or physically. Since my main hobby consists of reading books, it wasn’t as if I even had to leave the house to do that either.

That said, I now DO have something to look forward to and more reasons to get myself up and out.  After the usual three week cycle, I won’t be subjected to toxic drugs and head back into the cycle of side effects, instead I shall be heading upwards and upwards and ever more healthily upwards.  As to the reason to get myself up, I shall be alone as of the 5th of March and will therefore need to get the dogs taken care of myself rather than rely on my sister to deal with them.  I freely admit to lazy-itis in this regard, knowing she will get up and deal with them at 07.30 whilst I stay in bed.

I have also been informed that I must return to work, at least part-time, to ensure that I continue to get paid.  Now this makes me more than a little angry.  Having made the effort over the last several months to spend two days at work each week, I am now being told that I must be in work three weeks after my final treatment! Granted, at the start of the treatment I had no idea what the results of chemo would be and my discussions consisted of stating that my chemo would be completed by the end of February so that has become THE date. Although I must BE at work, there is no actual plan for what I must be doing or schedule of hours I am expected to attend, so this is all brewery stuff right now.

And breathe…

Sticking with the positive aspects, I am looking forward to: having more energy to complete tasks; being able to taste my food; growing eye lashes and eye brows again; having hair (simply because the hat/scarf dilemma is a bugger); getting out and about without worrying about catching something; NOT hanging around a hospital for most of the day.

Other treatments do continue after February 5th, with me still needing infusions of one drug until October and tablets for five years.  I will also need another operation to remove the chemoport that is used in lieu of attempting to find a vein in my arm for each round of chemo. So, whilst I am not out of the woods entirely in terms of treatment, I can certainly look forward with more enthusiasm than I have done for the last few months.

 

To a Mouse

The best-laid schemes o’ mice an ‘men
Gang aft agley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!

(The best laid schemes of Mice and Men
oft go awry,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!)

Robert Burns
Scottish national poet (1759 – 1796)

Surplus to requirements

Much as we would all like to think otherwise, we are not irreplaceable. Like our reduce reuse, recycle society, people are often mere commodities in the work place. This has certainly been brought home to me recently and has been churning through my brain (and stressing me out) for the last couple of months.

Granted, I don’t expect the entire world to come to a complete stop because I am not present. I grew out of that around my second birthday. I am fully aware that someone must replace me at work: the children must be educated; lessons must be taught; reports must be written. This is not what created this volcanic burning deep inside. What started the slow burn was the feeling that I was being brushed aside when I was willing, and able, to work a couple of days a week.

I felt patronised and belittled when I offered to take on tasks and was effectively ignored. I found that, having completed tasks I volunteered for such as planning lessons, the work I had discussed with colleagues and completed was not being used. Having spent several hours planning the units for this academic year, making adaptations to current resources and creating entire schemes, it is beyond disheartening to have all of the work thrown out with no consultation.

To be honest, I feel like I no longer belong to the school, like I am not a member of staff. If it weren’t for my pay check going into my bank, I wouldn’t believe it myself. My department doesn’t communicate with me, nor does my head of school or my principal – unless I instigate discussions. Even then, I am brushed off with a wave and a ‘rest, relax, recover, enjoy your time off’. Anyone would think I was on holiday! Until I am required for something, of course, at which point I must drop everything and make myself available.

I am sure that others in my situation have had a similar response from colleagues. I shall let you I to a secret: We want to be valued and recognised. We may not be present all of the time, but we can still contribute. In fact, I want to contribute. I don’t want to ‘rest, relax, recover’ as it is slowly driving me stark staring crazy. You need money to be a real lady of leisure, and I don’t have enough of it.

Looking ahead to when I am recovered, I won’t be returning to the classroom, which is fine with me as doing so would be too disruptive to the students. Apparently my skills will be utilised elsewhere, whatever that means. I foresee cover, and primary children!  Unfortunately I also foresee a great deal of time wasting.

If you want someone to feel undervalued and unwanted, then ignore their heartfelt attempts to remain included. This is a sure fire way to make them feel anything but rested or relaxed, it is sure to create stress and even minor depression. Believe me, walking into work now, I have the exact opposite of the positive attitude so many prattle on about.

THAT phrase will be the subject of another post.

Apathy versus lethargy

Time flies and all of a sudden it is nigh on time for my next round of chemo. I cannot believe that three weeks have passed so rapidly. Mind you, I find it hard to believe that it was a mere three months ago that I initially found the lumps that have so derailed my life.

I have thought a lot about attitude, medication, side effects and general well being over the last week, having met a woman who was diagnosed a few weeks after me and who has undergone a lumpectomy. With a triple negative diagnosis, she has a different chemo regime and is having a particularly bad time of it. In all, she is far more of the stereotypical chemo patient than I am.

When folks ask, I generally describe myself as operating at around 70-80% simply because I cannot put a finger on anything that is making me feel unwell. In fact, I don’t feel unwell. At times I can pinpoint exact side effects, like the recent infection in my gum, but generally I feel it is an overall disposition instead of anything else and then I struggle to determine if it is lethargy or apathy that is affecting me.

At times, I believe it is lethargy. I feel disconnected from things around me, I don’t have close friends here to simply sit and chat with and so feel somewhat stuck in the house. The heat, of course, doesn’t help and certainly adds to my sense of lethargy. Throw some odd sleeping habits into the mix and you get an overall lack of energy and/or enthusiasm.

To be honest, I fear that it is apathy. Apathy fed by frustration. Put simply I have lost any reason to get out of bed each day and am struggling to find something to do on a daily basis. I need that routine because, without it, I have no self-discipline. I envy those that do.

Stuck in one of those catch twenty-two situations, I can stand outside myself and see myself being idiotic. Part of this feeling of apathy comes from irritation that my sister sits about most days doing little and has done so for the last year. Not to mention the two years prior to that when she also didn’t take any steps towards changing her employability by completing an education degree which I agreed to fund. It seems to me that she thinks I have nothing better to do with my money than take care of her. I am angry that I now need her to be here to take care of me and so I refuse to do anything.

On days she isn’t here in the mornings, I feel highly productive. I get out with the dogs, I get a variety of work done for school, I get caught up on emails, i do some laundry or cleaning and so on… On other mornings, I resent the fact that she has no routine for walking the dogs and cleaning the house herself. Yes, I know how stupid it all sounds. She does nothing so I don’t see why I should. Childish and idiotic but I can’t seem to talk myself out of it.

http://xkcd.com/828/