Category: Happiness

Breast cancer lesson number 102: It’s better to give than receive, particularly on chemo day!

On By Jackie ScullyIn Baking, Chemotherapy, HappinessLeave a comment

Having been awake pretty much all night on a steroid-induced high (thanks to the dosage being doubled), I wasn’t expecting today to be as productive or as enjoyable as it has been. Especially with the words: ‘Docetaxel cycle one’ ringing in my ears.

The good thing about steroids, however, is they don’t stop working when you wake up. With four more at breakfast, I was answering emails, sweeping the floor, clearing papers and popping my next batch of chemo cookies in the oven (this time using a recipe all the way from Germany) all before 9am. I could have run (well, maybe jog a bit) all the way to the hospital, but instead decided it might be wiser to conserve my energy and just take a leisurely walk to the train in the sunshine through Greenwich Park.

Image

Image

For me, today was as much about giving as it was receiving, and that fact makes me smile. I handed over a tin of sugary ginger cookie treats to the cancer day unit and wore my Breast Cancer Care T-shirt to raise awareness of this superb charity (click here to find out what they’re up to or visit my Justgiving page to help me raise funds to support their great work). In return, I got a slow-release infusion of T (the drug is administered over a longer period, with no red syringes in sight), some anti-sickness meds (including miracle worker Emend), eight pre-filled syringes to start self-injecting on Sunday (to boost my immune system) and what I can only describe as the world’s largest sharps box! It needed its own bag to carry it home.

Image

How do I feel now? A bit tired, a bit anxious about how the next week will pan out, but otherwise fine. The calm before the storm is a strange place, and I just hope the storm doesn’t involve nausea, chronic fatigue, bone pain, muscle pain, mouth problems and peripheral neuropathy. I have survived the first part by not having an immediate allergic reaction to the new drug. And, I have done what I can to lessen the side effects. I have had some exercise, taken my pills, sucked on a rather strange mango and passionfruit (or at least that’s what it said it was on the packet) ice lolly while the drugs went in (it’s a bit like the cold cap for the mouth, but more bearable if you actually suck on something flavoursome) and am now relaxing in the garden with a scarf over my head and shoulders so I don’t get exposed to the beautiful sunshine.

The good news? The cookies went down well (so much so I couldn’t locate the tin), the cancer day unit makes me feel like I am returning to see old friends and, at last, I got the free lunch I have heard so much about. There wasn’t a lump of mash in sight sadly, but they didn’t scrimp on the ham. I even returned home to a wonderful parcel of hats from a new friend I met at Breast Cancer Care’s Younger Women Together event back in May.

I am strong, so let’s just hope I am stronger than the drugs currently working their way around my body.

Only time will tell.

Wish me luck!  

Breast cancer lesson number 101: Nothing takes the past away like the future

On By Jackie ScullyIn Brighter Life List, Chemotherapy, Happiness2 Comments

Change is afoot in the Sloan/Scully household. Now by this, you might think I’m referring to the fact I’m about to start chemo drug Docetaxel. But, there is actually something far more newsworthy happening that I feel I really must mention. The three-piece suite that has been comforting my bottom for the last 21 years – and that I vowed would never make it through our front door in Greenwich – is now outside our house waiting to be taken away.

Image

Now we are actually parting with my parents’ old grey sofa (complete with embroidered leaves) I do feel a twinge of sadness. We’ve had some good times (curries, TV dinners and movie nights) and some bad times (it’s not good for sleeping on and it has swallowed up a few too many coins). But, overall, it’s been a pretty good sofa. Until Saturday, we are now sofa-less and all I hope is that the new one fits through the door. I’m not sure I fancy recovering from chemo cycle four on the floor!

That brings me neatly to the real subject of today’s blog. Tomorrow marks the official halfway point (not the unofficial one I claimed in lesson 88) in my chemo treatment. Out go red syringes and pink pee and back comes the fear of the unknown I thought I’d left behind in lesson number 49. How am I going to feel by Friday evening? Chances are, it won’t be as well as I feel right now (and by well I mean not in pain). 

Chemo cycle four does sound a lot closer to the end than chemo cycle one, but as the first cycle of my new drug, it feels as though I am right back at the beginning. There are, however, two key differences. Firstly, I’m not as healthy as I was when I started the first course. Will that have an impact? I’ll let you know. And secondly, while I don’t know what side effects will pop up to taunt me, I do know that it’s often the ones you least fear that are the ones that get you the most. I feared the vomiting on FEC. I should have feared the mouth ulcers and the loss of taste! 

I have heard that swapping FEC for Tax (as it is often known) is like swapping a stomach bug for a flu bug. It is likely I won’t vomit, but the muscle and bone pain don’t sound particularly pleasant. Apparently, the muscle pain is caused by the chemo drug itself and comes on in the first week. The bone pain is added in by the injections I have to administer from day 3 to help boost the number of white blood cells in my body (oh yes, this one wreaks even more havoc with the immune system). At least when I was self-injecting for fertility treatment I got eggs at the end of it. Sounds like all I get is pain this time (not sure I will be able to feel my boosted immune system). The list of side effects is long, so let’s just hope the drug is kind. I even get more steroids, which will either help me with the spring cleaning or the piling on of pounds!

The day before my first chemo, I wrote down ten chemo tips I was keen to test. Here’s a quick glimpse into how I’ve got on so far…

1)  Dark nail polish: I’ve painted it on and so far my nails have not fallen off, so I will claim a victory. My big toe is a little on the dark side (under the polish), so let’s hope they last the course. I also have interesting nails for the first time, so even without the
benefits, dark colours work for me.

2)  Sleep caps: They certainly catch stray strands of hair, but they do make it a little tricky to manage those hot flushes. I love wearing them when I am really cold though, even if I look a bit like a gnome!

3)  Senna (or your favourite poo-charming substance): Who needs Senna when there’s All Bran in the house! Ok, so I used it once when I couldn’t remember if I had ‘been’ and then regretted it. It is a handy item to have on standby, but you can’t beat a few mouthfuls of bran with your brekkie!

4)  Flavoured water and ice lollies: It’s nearly summer, so I now have two reasons to eat ice lollies. While I wouldn’t recommend frozen grapes (tried them on chemo 3 to keep my mouth in check and they tasted a bit too weird), I think there is a lot to be said for sucking on something cold while the chemo drugs are going in. It’s a lovely sugary distraction!

5)  Inflatable bath pillow: I think I need to stay in the bath a bit longer. I am still a bit of a speed washer.

6)  Toweling robe: Love it! Not sure I love it because of chemo, but I love it all the same. Who couldn’t love a soft, fluffy robe?!

7)  Queasy drops: Tick! They taste nice, they distract me from thinking about nausea and I don’t get bored eating them.

8)  Pineapple chunks: I would go as far as to say that they taste even better on chemo. Same goes for blueberries and strawberries – and extra strong mints of course!

9)  Ginger tea and ginger nuts: I am finding it hard to tolerate the smell of any herbal teas (so much so I wonder whether I will ever be able to enjoy one again). Ginger nuts are great for baking (as we all know from lesson number 79). But, whether or not they help with nausea, I just haven’t a clue. It would help if I actually ate one when I felt nauseous rather than just when I felt hungry. 

10)  Brow Zings: I’ll tell you when my eyebrows fall out!

The cancer kit list of tips and suggestions is coming, but there is one tip I want to add in for now. Plan in something that makes chemo day a day to look forward to rather than fear. For me, that means baking for the cancer unit so I feel excited about giving something back. I’m also so busy thinking about what ginger chemo cookie (or gingerbread) to bake next, I momentarily forget about the drugs making a beeline for my veins. It certainly works for me, and I hope it will work for you too.

This week it’s out with the old and in with the new. Let’s hope both the drugs and the new sofa are a welcome addition to our little London life.

Breast cancer lesson number 99: You are so much more than the illness that tried to take your life away

On By Jackie ScullyIn Baking, Chemotherapy, Happiness2 Comments

As my official 100th post (before you think I’ve mislaid my abacus, the first one wasn’t actually a numbered lesson), I have felt under pressure to say something more meaningful than offering an extra strong mint or Ladycare magnet update. That’s why it’s taken me a good few days to sit down and start writing!

The inspiration for this post actually came from my neighbour. Sat next door in the kitchen sipping tea (naturally) on Sunday, she turned to me and said: ‘It’s so important we remember that you’re not just an illness.’ And, you know what, she’s so right.

I was a fairly-rounded person with hopes, dreams, ambitions and smiles long before I made friends with the hospital waiting room. And, I am still that person – albeit with a few cosmetic adjustments! I re-read my first ‘Dear cancer’ (click here if you missed it) post just yesterday and I am glad to report I still mean every word. The engagement Champagne is slowly being enjoyed – in a glass not the bath. (Quite frankly, when you’re tumour-free every day is a celebration!) And, I’m still smiling (most of the time when my cancer isn’t being upgraded and my body isn’t conjuring up another new chemo side effect to catch me off guard).

So, I thought, for my 100th message, it would be apt to talk not about cancer and lymph nodes and lobules, but to go back to the beginning and offer a glimpse of the person behind the shopping list sized prescriptions. The person I was, am and will be, but the person that sometimes gets lost (like my veins).

For those who don’t know me well, I would liken myself to the following table of food.

Image

Here’s why:

1) Home is where the heart is: With my love of nesting, cooking, crafting and cleaning (admittedly less love and more satisfaction), I often think I was born in the wrong era. For me, being at home is like waking up to a long and happy hug every morning. There’s no queuing, no travelling, you get to pick the menu and, most importantly, you get to fill every inch of your home with happy memories. There’s only downside I can see – the washing up!

2) Family means the world to me: the only dessert I ordered at grannie’s house for a good decade was her special lemon cheesecake. I loved it so much that when Kraft changed the packet sizes of their Philadelphia cheese many years back (the recipe always talked in packet sizes not weights) it caused such cheesy chaos, I contacted them for advise on my grannie’s behalf. Without a conventional oven, however, the recipe had always been beyond my reach. What a great gift it was when we moved into our house in 2012 (complete with correct oven) and I could start cooking it. My version doesn’t taste quite as good as grannie’s version, but every mouthful comes complete with a whole lifetime of happy family memories.

3) The more I share, the more I have: My bread was made to be broken with friends. Good friends make the good times better and the bad times easier and I feel so blessed to have some many to try out recipes on!

4) If at first I don’t succeed, I just keep trying: determination is cooking a quiche recipe for the second time when you know the first one was a complete disaster – so much so the pastry dripped its way to the bottom of the oven and we had to munch on cubes of cheese and bacon. The second one worked! Just have to find time to squeeze in those falafel scotch eggs I have promised at two parties now (I even got as far as boiling the eggs this time)!

5) I take life a bit too seriously: No lunchtime event is complete without a timing plan, recipe list, homemade bread, fresh pesto and at least 10 hours in the kitchen. Did I need to do it? Nope. Did I love every minute of it? Absolutely (if we overlook the scotch eggs)! I may always want to get things right, but it’s only because I care so much about everything I do. It’s part of who I am and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Happy faces and happy stomachs are a wonderful reward.

6) While I love baking, it’s savoury all the way: I surprised a friend a few weeks back by ordering a starter and a main rather than a pudding. When you love baking for the office, clients, parties and the chemo ward, it does seem strange to not be attached to some sort of sweet tooth. Give me a bit of homemade bread, quiche, cheese and some salad and I am a very (if slightly stuffed) happy woman. A table with 75% beige and 25% bake works for me (two of my favourites are on the pic, including these white chocolate and raspberry tarts). After all, even a savoury girl knows the stomach has its own dessert compartment.

So, that’s what I’d look like if I were a spread of food. I am not cancer. I am an imperfectly-formed pastry case with a soft and creamy centre and lots of cheese. I may not be much to look at most of the time, but there’s a lot of filling, it’s quite nice (when it makes it out of the oven) and there’s always time for extra helpings!

Let’s hope the hospital agrees tomorrow when I am back for my pre-chemo blood test…

Breast cancer lesson number 96: Happiness is a journey, not a destination

On By Jackie ScullyIn Brighter Life List, Chemotherapy, Happiness2 Comments

The title of this blog post is actually one of my favourite quotations. Last year I organised for it to be printed onto a sign for the living room to remind me of that fact every day. The reason? I think we often spend too much time wishing our lives away and not enough time enjoying the moment. A lot of the time, the destination doesn’t quite live up to expectations or the excitement experienced on the journey. I believe that if you enjoy the journey, you’re less likely to demand as much of the destination – and are therefore more likely to enjoy it. That’s my logic and I’m sticking to it!

I can honestly say I enjoyed every moment of Friday (which included four separate journeys and a destination that was also a journey if you can get your head around that!). I enjoyed the leisurely lie-in, the tea in bed, laughing on the tube with Duncan, the band playing as we arrived at the Orient Express check-in in the Victoria and the best cup of tea in a paper cup I have ever had as we waited for our train. I enjoyed the Audrey carriage with its colourful past (it used to be part of the Brighton Belle train, was once damaged in a bombing raid and has stunning landscape scenes on its wooden panels). I loved the five-course meal (including enough cheese to feed a small nation), the banter with the team on board and actually being in photos. I even enjoyed the drive on the M25 to the Cotswolds for the weekend after it was all over. I enjoyed the details and nothing else mattered.

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

One of my favourite moments, however, is perhaps not what you’d expect. I will never forget the faces of the commuters on every platform we passed. The train, with its beauty and elegance was an unexpected element in their day. With wide-eyed children pointing, commuters staring in wonder and workmen stopping to wave, the train brought with it as many unexpected smiles as it did happy and well-fed passengers. I was happy to be on board, but happier seeing the mark it left on every platform.

In lesson 95, I challenged myself to get in front of the camera and take part in the memories as they are being frozen in time. I am delighted to report that I rose to the challenge, and dragged Duncan along for the ride too. I look back at each and every one of these and smile. It really was an amazing experience.

Image

 

Image

If you’re interested in the Orient Express, you’ll be interested to know that we went on the British Pullman on a four-hour round trip from London Victoria. Each of its 10 carriages, described as ‘palaces on wheels’ has a different personality. Audrey is one of the smaller carriages, meaning we were virtually guaranteed an intimate table for two and a big picture window. I can also confirm that the gooseberry trifle was delicious and Duncan did sample one of every cheese on the cheeseboard (and earned the respect of the waiter in doing so).

This memory wouldn’t have been possible without the kindness of the wonderful Willow Foundation and my lovely breast cancer nurse. The Willow Foundation was set up by former Arsenalgoalkeeper and TV presenter, Bob Wilson and his wife Megs, as a lasting memorial to their daughter, Anna, who died of cancer aged 31.They wanted to give 16- to 40-year-olds the chance to escape a serious illness by enjoying a special day out. And, since 1999, they’ve been doing just that. I, along with the many young women diagnosed with breast cancer every year, will be forever grateful.

My nurse recommended them to me and helped me with the application form and I couldn’t recommend them highly enough to you. If you are based in the UK and are eligible, I would encourage you to apply today! Click here for more details and to find out how you can support this amazing organisation. 

Thank you Willow and thank you Orient Express for gifting me a day when I enjoyed both the journey and the destination. It is a day I will never forget.

PS: A lovely lady called Tric reblogged one of my earlier posts: ‘what you lose I dignity, you gain in confidence’ at the weekend on her own blog My thoughts on a page. It remains one of my favourite posts, so click here if you want a second look. Thanks Tric.

Breast cancer lesson number 95: It’s time to put yourself in the picture

On By Jackie ScullyIn Chemotherapy, Happiness8 Comments

You may find this hard to believe if you’ve not met me before, but I have never liked having my picture taken. I was the child plagued with ‘red eye’. Not tilting my head in a weird way every time I see a camera takes a huge amount of effort. And, a selfie was, up until I started this blog, something everyone else did. They say the cameras never lie. In my case, I’m not sure they’ve ever told the truth!

Lying in bed after having spent the evening running round the Chelsea Flower Show last night, however, I started to realise that maybe a life always behind the camera isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I will never be a fan of the sea of phones that seem to accompany every single event nowadays. (I still wish people would spend more time enjoying the moment and the experience of being at an event and less time plotting their locations for Facebook and telling everyone else how much fun they’re having. They’d certainly have more fun if they put their phones down for a second.) But, I do believe a great photo is a powerful thing. It doesn’t just capture a moment, it captures the happiness and joy felt in that moment.

Looking back through my catalogue of show garden pictures this morning, there was something missing. I had photos of my favourite flowers, the wonderful potting shed artisan garden with its beautiful back story and some of the stunning details I spotted along the way. But there was no sign of Duncan and I enjoying ourselves. I will always remember that we did, but I don’t have a face smiling back at me confirming that fact.

ImageImageImage

Not any more!

With a weekend of Bank Holiday adventures in front of me, starting with a day on the Orient Express, I am determined to change my perspective – and I encourage you to do the same!

Stand out from behind the camera and be part of the memory making. Time is precious and photos are the perfect way to remind us of that fact every day (especially when we’re in them). Some of us may be afraid of life in front of the lens. However, I think we should be more afraid of not having it pointed in our direction, even just once in while.

May you all enjoy your lovely long weekends – if you’re lucky enough to live in the right country to have one!

PS: I had my first photo bombing experience on Wednesday night at the wonderful ZSL safari gala dinner! Here’s me and my lovely colleague. I won’t forget that 🙂 

Image

Breast cancer lesson number 93: How to face cancer with confidence

On By Jackie ScullyIn Chemotherapy, Happiness2 Comments

I think it would be fair to say that my make-up routine is less of a routine and more of a lifelong period of experimentation. I have the creams, the mascara, the eyebrow pencils and the obligatory make-up bag, but it seems that no matter how much stuff I apply to my face, I never look like I have any on. Some may call this skillful. Sadly, there is nothing skillful about it.

Whether or not you know your primer from your restorative lash treatment, when you’re undergoing treatment that dries your skin and steals away your eyelashes in the night, make-up does have its uses. For me, it’s not so much about hiding what’s happening to me, but more about giving me back the bits that make me smile. A hat can hide the lack of hairdo, but I do quite like to see some eyebrow when I look in the mirror.

In an attempt to help me reclaim my face, friends, family and medical professionals have been quick to send me top tips, hints and product recommendations. In the creams department, for example, I am sorted – so much so I’m surprised I don’t just slip right out of my clothes! Having diligently filled the bathroom with everything from Gimme Brow to Brow Zings on the make-up front, however, I do feel like in danger of looking more like a pantomime act than a publishing professional. Painting on eyebrows? I’d rather have a PICC line flush thanks.

Image

Enter Look Good, Feel Better (LGFB). This amazing international charity offers free skincare and make-up workshops for those coming to terms with the visible side effects of cancer treatment. With volunteers from the beauty industry (who better to teach you about wig care than a film make-up artist?), each session is a masterclass packed with trade secrets and handy tips. In two hours, you get a 12-step make-up routine and all the branded goodies to match (designed around your skin tone). And, even though you do have to sit in front of a mirror for an extended period, you do get an awful lot of laughing to go with your lipstick and eyeliner.

There are many things in life I never thought I’d have to worry about. Matching my foundation so that it blends in with my bald head is one of them. Now, however, I don’t just have the concealer, I know where (and most importantly when) to apply it. I can use green primer without looking like Kermit the frog and can advise you on which eye cream will make your bags glow in certain lights (not a great look for a wedding). I will also never use my eyeliner in the same way again. While ‘looking good’ may be pushing it, I left the session looking a whole lot better and, it felt great. To ease you in, I am only posting a photo of the goodie bag today. I need a bit more practice before I share my new eyebrow-shaping skills with the world and I’d rather not scare you off.

For the first time in my life, I have three amazing beauty secrets to share! First, book on a Look Good, Feel Better event today (they are extremely popular so click here to find your nearest location). Second, Macmillan Cancer Support does a really useful guide called Feel More Like You, which provides expert advice on skin, nail and hair care during treatment. And, lastly, only put green primer on the red bits, otherwise you might end up looking a lot worse than you feel! 

Of course, the one thing that a wonderful workshop such as this can’t do is account for nature. And, by nature, I mean the fact that I currently have a rather fetching mosquito bite plonk in the centre of my forehead. Perfectly timed for the filming of an exercise video tomorrow (oh yes, more on that soon)! That’s something no amount of make-up is going to sort.

Breast cancer lesson number 91: Be kind. Everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle

On By Jackie ScullyIn Chemotherapy, Happiness, Reflections on cancer4 Comments

Bearing my soul to all who know me – and quite a few who don’t – has brought with it some rather unexpected and surprising moments. Fellow sufferers have found comfort in a friendly face. Strangers have become friends. Old friends have become new friends. Distant friends have become closer friends. Family have become more like friends.

Every comment, post and email has meant the world to me. But there are a few that have shown me just how little we really know about those around us – and the challenges we all face. From miscarriages, grief, illness and tumours to difficult pregnancies, IVF, house issues and family troubles. You name it, they’re all there, on a doorstep near you (and maybe even on your own).

Image

I feel so privileged and moved that people have been able to reach out to me at this time and share the sadness that occupies their waking hours and disturbs their sleep. But, I also feel sad that had I known about some of them earlier, I might have been able to make a difference at a time when they needed me perhaps more than they do right now (a hairless cancer fighter is probably not first in line for the trenches!).

People often describe cancer as the invisible illness. And, in many ways it is (especially when it grows silently inside you at a time when you are feeling really well). But, the thing about cancer is that you don’t need to understand the complexities of a diagnosis to know that someone is fighting for their life. Cancer comes with its own support network. People get it. And that makes it so much easier to share with the world. Sadly, other challenges (each one difficult and hard in their own right) cannot be softened by such a public airing. 

So this is my little way of saying spare a thought today for all of life’s fighters. I can guarantee they are closer than you think.

Quick PS: As a rather more light-hearted aside, I confess to having bought some shorts. Apologies now if the weather takes a turn for the worse. But, if it is any consolation, they are really nice shorts and Duncan will permit me to wear them further than the garden, which is a first!

Breast cancer lesson number 90: Life is short. There is no time to leave important words unsaid

On By Jackie ScullyIn Happiness, Pink hearts3 Comments

I am grateful that last night was just a night of sweats, broken sleep and nasty nausea rather than a night wedded to the washing-up bowl (I must stress the bowl has been retired from active washing-up duty in case you were worried). And, looking at the faces of mum and Duncan in the morning, I think I wasn’t the only one who was grateful!

I made it through. But I had to dig deep. The nausea and night sweats were among the worst I have ever endured. The Aprepitant drug worked wonders on the sickness and the quick hat and sock changes helped with the hot flushes. But there is one other trick I’d like to share, which – in between the waves of nausea – made the whole experience memorable in a more positive way.

I have never been one for counting sheep or filling my mind with the colour blue in an attempt to drift off. So, last night I introduced a new technique. From the beginning, I listed out all the wonderful and kind messages and gestures people have sent through over the last four months. By this, I don’t just mean the obvious. By this, I mean the well-timed tips, the lucky pre-surgery safety pin, the comment from an old schoolfriend about what she thought of me back then and how I hadn’t changed, the thank you from a girl I once helped in a small way and never thought much of it. Just yesterday, a lady I had met a month ago and showered in cancer-related tips stopped me in reception to thank me for my kindness. Those words meant everything to me. Each one of these moments has made an indelible mark on my heart. And, yesterday, I used them to build a patchwork quilt of happiness to comfort me at my lowest ebb. The great thing is, when I got out of bed this morning I smiled knowing that I have just scratched the surface, with many more patches to add.

Being at the receiving end of a lifetime of kindness has got me thinking about just how much we really say to those that inspire us and make us smile. When was the last time you turned to a friend and thanked them for just being there? When was the last time you contacted an old acquaintance and told them just how big an impression they have made on your life? When was the last time you thanked someone and meant it from the bottom of your heart? People can’t guess you’re your thinking unless you tell them. When the business of life gets in the way, it is hard to step back, reflect and not take all those you love and admire for granted. But, I can tell you now, there is so much I want to say to people while they are still around to hear it! People come and go in life, tucked away in chapters. But, their kindness will live on through you. I’d love to think that if someone were to cut me open (in a nice, non-cancer-surgery kind of way), I would be made up all of the brilliant people who have touched my life.

Image

So, I have chosen today, laced as it might be with a cocktail of drugs and a vat load of liquid, as the day to hand out my first pink hearts. The first is for my astonishing and truly wonderful mum who is one of the most beautiful people you’ll ever meet. She may weigh less than me currently (although we are having words), and she may not be able to take the pain of a cancer diagnosis away, but she has made living with it as comfortable and relaxing as possible. She has put her life on hold, so that I have the chance to get mine back. As a daughter, I have not always thanked my mother quite as often as I should. But she means everything to me and I plan to spend the rest of my days reminding her of that. While I won’t share the contents of my letter with you, I will share one line: ‘Life is no easy street, but you have made walking down it, so much more enjoyable.’

And, the second heart? You’ll just have to wait and see! I will also be posting more details of my pink heart plan (first mentioned in lesson number 30 – click here) in the weeks to some to inspire others to send ripples of kindness all across the world.

Image

All I ask is that you take a moment of your day to thank someone who matters to you. What is it about them that makes you smile? What it is you should have told them years ago, but never thought to mention? How have they helped make you the person you are today? I guarantee you’ll feel good saying it – but not as good as the person hearing it (especially if it’s for the first time).

Make today the day you start following your heart. Trust me, there’s no time to lose.

NB: it will take years to deliver all these hearts, so do bear with me. The accompanying letters are all handwritten and contain a piece of my heart. Plus, I have to make sure I don’t get arm ache! 

Breast cancer lesson number 89: A chemo day can be a good day

On By Jackie ScullyIn Baking, Chemotherapy, Happiness4 Comments

Believe it or not, today was a good day. I should qualify this by saying that most good days do not come with a helping of toxic drugs on the side. But as days on active treatment go, it was a complete success.

Image

I passed my blood test (yay!). My levels are good for someone on chemo (could be seen as a compliment). I had a lovely lunch with my lovely mum (that I could taste) and a walk along the river (in the sunshine). I met a friendly nurse who furnished me with a whole rucksack full of pills, mouthwashes and eye drops (including the mighty Emend/Aprepitant for vomiting). I got the chemo drugs (yay-ish because it wasn’t delayed) and actually waved goodbye to Epirubicin as the last red syringe was drained into my PICC line. I now know the name of the lovely lady who does my PICC line flushing every week (she doesn’t wear a name badge and after a few sessions, I felt it would be wrong to ask). I have sorted out my appointments for the next round (chemo is moving to a Friday). And, most importantly, the chemo unit LOVED the ginger cookies (although you could question whether or not a unit of patients with questionable taste buds is a robust test).

I also discovered a few new things (and we all know how much I love learning things)! One, there is such a thing as a menopause clinic, because I’ve been referred to it in an attempt to help me get a convincing night of sleep! (watch this space). Two, baked goods (with ingredients listed) are welcome on the unit (I did wonder whether health and safety would get in the way). Three (not the best revelation), the next set of chemo cycles requires me to have around 24 injections to help keep my white blood cell count at a good level (nothing like a few sub-cut injections to remind me of those fertility days). And last but not least, according to my stats, somebody discovered my blog by searching ‘extraordinary boobs’. Whoever found my blog by searching for this, all I can say is: great search terms (I wimped out after Googling it and sizing up the main subject matter) and I am sorry that I really don’t have extraordinary boobs. They are certainly not ordinary, but I am not sure that is what you were after!

Here’s a piccie of me in the unit ‘copping a feel’ (albeit not exactly going for a full grab) to show my support for the wonderful charity Coppafeel (click here), which was set up by a wonderful women called Kris, who was diagnosed with Stage four (advanced breast cancer) at the age of 23. Her mission is to make sure young women are more aware of their boobs, completing those regular checks that could just save their lives. It’s a simple and powerful message, and one I am going to help her spread over the coming months and years.

I may be nibbling my ginger cookies at a rapid rate to tackle the nausea inside me, but I think, as days go, it was a goodie. Let’s just hope I don’t have to make friends with my old washing-up bowl again tonight!

Image

I hope you’ve all had a good day!

 

Breast cancer lesson 88: Happiness is knowing the halfway point is in sight

On By Jackie ScullyIn Chemotherapy, Happiness11 Comments

Ok, so I may be pushing it slightly by suggesting tomorrow marks the halfway point in my chemo treatment. But, even though I have another 12 weeks (out of 18) to go (making it just a third in terms of timings) tomorrow is the third poisoning out of six. That makes it pretty special.

Being the third chemo, it also means an end to FEC and, in particular Epirubicin. No longer will I have to watch the blood red liquid being syringed slowly into my veins. No longer with I have pink pee to remind me of the poison every time I go to the loo. After tomorrow’s session, I will say goodbye to the three-drug cocktail and hello to a new challenge (Docetaxel) for round 4. While it does require me getting used to a whole new set of side effects, I like the idea of a change.

How am I feeling about going back on the steroids, the anti-sickness medication and the chemo drugs? If I’m honest, a few days ago, I was a little worried.

Cycle one had a go at my hair and showed me just how nasty mouth ulcers can be. Apart from that, however, it left me alone and reassured me that I have the strength and the positivity to get through this. I went into cycle two with a smile on my face, confident the drugs were on my side. Little did I know as I sat in the chemo chair, just how much it would test me.

Don’t get me wrong. I am one of the lucky ones. But, with its tongue and mouth ulcers, vomit, nausea, headaches, tiredness, coughing, runny nose, hot flushes and sleepless nights, chemo is no walk in the park. I am going into tomorrow with an ulcerated tongue, the end of a cough and on the back of few too many nights of broken sleep. Physically, I have been challenged and, while my body is fighting back, it is not quite as fit as I’d like it to be.

Ask me how I am feeling now, however, and I would say, I am ready (if we ignore the false start I had this morning where I misplaced my travelcard and threw my iPod in the recycling bin by mistake on the way to today’s appointments). I know, whatever goodies it has up its sleeve (or in its syringe), I can and will get through them all. I am stronger than the drugs – and I know that while they have destruction on their minds currently, they will end up making me even more so.

Plus, I have a few new tricks. The evening poisoning for cycle two caught me off guard. I met my mum at the hospital. I hurried my lunch following a rather soggy encounter with a washing machine that decided not to spin my clothes, but instead wash my floor. I wasn’t on my game and I wasn’t focused on the right opposition (my floor needed a wash anyway). Now I am.

My mum is here the night before to help me avoid any unnecessary hurrying. I have grapes in the freezer (apparently sucking on them while having chemo can help the mouth). I am ready to drink my body weight in water. I will be making my first batch of chemo cookies tonight to ward off sickness and nausea. And, I will be requesting more anti-sickness medication at tomorrow’s session with the nurse. For every side effect I know of, I have a solution. And, for every one I don’t, I have my supportive and kind mum. Quite frankly, if I were the chemo drugs, I’d be scared!

Let’s just hope I pass the blood test first thing. Wish me luck!