Breast cancer lesson 142: Why it’s time to eat (well), drink (water) and be merry

On August 24, 2014August 24, 2014 By Jackie ScullyIn Reflections on cancer2 Comments

With my tastebuds now in full working order and the end of active treatment in sight, I have started to think a little less about standing on cliffs with no hair and climbing mountains (I have my brighter life list for that – click here to view) and a little more about the small adjustments I can make from now on that will help me live a healthier life.

Read the headlines and you could be forgiven for thinking that that ‘life’ now needs to be one heavy on blueberries, packed with alkaline foods and without sugar. The more I read about cancer and diet, however, the more I realise what a complex subject it is and that oversimplification of certain ideas can do more harm than good. I certainly refuse to believe I got cancer because I am partial to a bit of buttercream now and again!

Interestingly, diet it is not something that has been tackled by my oncologist (the only thing we discussed was the importance of eating what you can tolerate on chemo to keep the calories up and not making any major adjustments to diet while undergoing treatment). In fact, the only consistent advice I have received has come from three unrelated cancer and food seminars that all point to one thing: a healthy, balanced diet (as explained by this eatwell plate, which indicates the types of foods that should be making an appearance at every meal). It is not dissimilar to advice dished out in home economics lessons of old. And, while it does advocate things like blueberries, flax seeds, brussel sprouts and quinoa (all of which I like), bread, cake and cheese are still there, holding their own (yet in a small, concentrated way).

I am no authority on diet, but I can navigate my way through the ‘superfood’ marketing spin and a bit of basic biology to recognise that healthy eating is more about moderation than it is banning foods completely and depriving yourself of the odd treat. Breast Cancer Care produces some useful information on the subject (click here for its Healthy Eating after treatment page, which is great starting point). And, Cancer Research UK, has written a piece a clear overview debunking certain cancer myths, which is worth a look (click here for more).

The truth is, for all my talk of victoria sponges, chemo cookies and cobb loaves, I think my diet is actually ok (I am already nearly back to my pre-treatment weight for starters, which is good sign). I keep a food diary, so I can build up a realistic picture of my food intake. I cook meals from fresh that are heavy on fish and vegetables. I also think of blueberries as a bit of a treat. And, while lunch is still a bit of an Achilles heel for me (if you have any great lunch recipes, please do share), eight portions of fruit and veg a day is sometimes a bit of a push, my breakfast is many shades of beige and I’m never one to refuse a decent biscuit, I think healthy eating for me means a bit of fine tuning rather than a revolution in the kitchen! I’m after a life of quality as well as quantity (still aiming on 92). And, quality means a few of my favourite things making the menu each week.

It is fair to say, I love food (I remember planning my school life around the menus I insisted mum write up on the fridge door). Meal planning has its own designated notepad in the Scully/Sloan household and I love nothing more than spending a few hours each week pouring over cookery books. There is, however, one area for which I get a huge black mark. While I am good at eating, I am not so good at drinking (by which I mean lack of water and not excess of wine).

I reminded of this fact at my penultimate shiatsu appointment at the Haven on Thursday (click here to find out more about the Haven’s free complementary therapy programme for breast cancer patients). My therapist stopped me while I was merrily listing out my remaining post-chemo side effects and asked: ‘Jackie, do you drink much water?’ Rather than replying straight away, I first tried to recall the recommendations for water drinking to work out how dismal my water intake actually is. I couldn’t (the European Food Safety Authority says about 1.6 litres a day for women and 2 litres a day for men), so instead I said (rather sheepishly): ‘How much should I be drinking?’ I think that comment told the therapist all she needed to know.

Thankfully, what followed wasn’t a lecture on my copious tea drinking, but rather a piece of useful advice. The therapist didn’t talk in litres or numbers of cups (she argued that the main thing was to increase intake rather than set rigid rules). She did, however, suggest I make one cup of hot water to go alongside each cup of tea that I drink (I am at the kettle anyway). It’s a small and simple adjustment, which should make a big difference. I have already started. And, I already feel like I’ve earned a few brownie points. (As an aside, people do often count tea drinking in their daily fluid intake, but given it tends to dehydrate, it feels like cheating). If you have any water drinking strategies, do share them.

The benefits of water are well documented (everything from facilitating chemical reactions in the body to removing toxins and weight and boosting the metabolism). When I couldn’t drink it on its own on chemo, I really missed it. I like it. I am just not so good at getting enough of it (except in the days after each chemo poisoning when my mum was sat there basically feeding it to me). So, from now on, I vow to fill up my glass (and my bottle), and give my body what I give the garden: a good watering!

Let’s raise a glass to water (hot, cold, with lemon or without). May it be the liquid of life that keeps our spirits and productivity levels high – and our need for senna low.

NB: Given my latest resolution, now might be a good time to pledge me that drink to celebrate the end of active treatment! To find out more about my pledge idea and how, by pledging, you will be generating cash for charity, head to lesson number 132 (click here to read).

Cheers!

Breast cancer lesson 140: Ten things that will make breast reconstruction surgery that little bit easier

On August 20, 2014August 22, 2014 By Jackie ScullyIn Breast reconstruction surgery2 Comments

I have a confession. In lesson number 72 (click here for a quick refresher), I talked about setting my boobs free and tucking my post-surgery bra away in a drawer rather than wearing it to bed. Truth is, the boobs were free for all of about a night, before I found myself reaching for the unattractive-yet-feels-like-you’ve-got-nothing-on bra once more. I don’t need to wear it. But, I don’t feel quite right sleeping without it.

The reason I am telling you this is that I have just finished typing up my breast reconstruction surgery tips for the cancer kit list (click here to view both chemo and surgery suggestions) and I have come to realise that I am really quite attached to this beige front-fastening number. In hospital, it meant easy access (nurses could check whether my breast was still alive without moving me). At home, it remains one of the most comfortable things I own. And comfort – rather than style – is all that matters now! Life is way too short to wear wired bras that dig into your side or high heels that make your feet swell (and you look like you’re drunk when you haven’t even been drinking). The other reason I am telling you this is that I was asked not to wear it last night and this morning (as part of a secret charity mission) and I actually really missed it. Who would have thought a bra would bring me so much happiness!

As you can imagine, the front-fastening Royce bra (click here to see it in all its glory) sits at the top of my ‘ten-things-that-will-make-breast-reconstruction-surgery-that-little-bit-easier’ list. Excluding painkillers (an essential part of any surgery that involves a tummy tuck), here are a few of my favourite things:

A front-fastening bra: One more mention for good measure! It’s so important to get the right bra for you. I took my bra with me into surgery so it could be put on while I was asleep. Due to the swelling, it’s good to go up by one back size so the bra doesn’t feel tight (you might want to bring a few sizes just in case and the return the one you don’t use).
Button down nightshirts or nighties: I think surgeons and nurses alike would queue up to see you wrestle with a top that doesn’t button up in the days after surgery. When there are wounds, drains and a new boobie to inspect, it pays to make things simple. Regardless of the time of year, aim for lightweight layers rather than thermals (it can get pretty hot in hospital). I would aim to bring two nightshirts/nighties so you can change (and encouraging a friend or relative to rinse them through would be great)!
Big knickers: Bridget Jones would be proud! If you’re planning on laughing, coughing or moving around, big knickers or ‘magic pants’ are a huge help. They can be quite tight to get on and off, but they can make getting in and out of bed a lot easier. They’re handy in the weeks after surgery too. It’s worth bringing more pairs than you think you’ll need for your hospital stay, so you don’t run out (plus a few normal cotton pairs too in case you get too hot). I can’t say I am wearing them now, but I think fondly of our time together.

Drain bags: If you’ve been advised that you will have drains after surgery (they look a little bit like sports bottles attached to a tube), it is really handy to bring a bag (for example, a natural shopping bag) that you can slip over your shoulder. This frees up your hands if you need to steady yourself while walking. People do make and gift fabric drain bags too, so it’s worth asking your breast reconstruction nurse if there are any available. Same goes for an easy-to-carry wash bag! If you’re feeling crafty, click here for a drain bag pattern (you will need to scroll down a bit).
Anti-bacterial gel and wet wipes: The bathroom can seem like a long way away if you’ve had DIEP surgery. These will help you cut a few corners in the early days!
External power pack: Keeping in contact with friends and family is a great way to make those hospital days go faster. If you’re worried about keeping things charged up (or taking lots of chargers), you could consider buying an external power pack. These can be charged up before you’re admitted and will power your phone many times over without needing to be recharged. They also come with lots of different connectors so you can power many devices. Fewer wires mean a lot less hassle.
Adbo binder/corset: Not one you can bring with you, but worth requesting if you are finding the tummy tuck tight after surgery. I wore mine for six weeks and it was such a support when it came to moving around and laughing. The binder/big pants combo is amazing!
Breast pillow: Sleeping on your operated side may not be possible for a while after surgery. That’s when breast pillows can provide real support – not to mention much-needed protection should you share a bed. Some people use breastfeeding cushions, but there are specific breast surgery products, such as TenderCush pillows, that are great for easing discomfort. You might also want to change sides of the bed temporarily to protect your operated side even further. Setting this up before surgery means you can just sink into bed on your return home rather than rearranging your belongings.
Post-surgery caddy: There is nothing worse than getting comfy to find your book is out of reach and your lip balm is in the other room! Setting up a tray or bag of essentials next to your chair is a great way to make sure you have all the essentials close to hand.
Cream: Once your wounds have sealed, you will be encouraged to massage them with cream to help things recover even further. I love Moo Goo’s Udder Cream. It smells wonderful and is highly recommended as a repair cream. You are also surrounded by cow puns, which makes this both creamy and amusing!

You can read the full list in the cancer kit list section. And, if you’re interested in reading more about the breast reconstruction days, why not head to the ‘breast reconstruction’ category (I am excited I have now categorised all my blog posts for easy reference).

If you’re preparing for surgery, then I wish you all the best and hope that these tips will help the days in hospital fly by.

And, if you’re not, then please do one thing for me and make sure you have a comfy bra (not just a sexy, lacy one that makes your bits spill out). There is no strong evidence to suggest wearing an ill-fitting bra will give you breast cancer. But I am a great believer that happy people are comfortable people. And, I want you all to be happy.

And, if you’re a man, you might just want to pass this advice on. I am not sure you need a bra (or big knickers for that matter).

Breast cancer lesson 139: Success belongs to those who enjoy the process

On August 18, 2014August 18, 2014 By Jackie ScullyIn Baking, Brighter Life List, HappinessLeave a comment

It takes more than a bit of peripheral neuropathy and sleep deprivation to prevent me from making a dent in my ever-growing Brighter Life list (click here to read more).

Over the last month alone, I have applied to the Wimbledon ballot for the first time (it is pretty much all paper-based, involving SAEs and form filling, which makes me smile), made crumpets (and ate quite a few given you have to really make a batch at any one time to make it worthwhile), walked around the Olympic Park with my mum and dad (it is bigger than I’d imagined) and stood on a cliff with no hair. In short, I have made good progress.

Buoyed by the increasing number of photos filling up my list page (I post one as evidence I have completed it – and as a nice reminder), I decided to spend the weekend tackling a biggie. And, by biggie, I mean baking for Test Match Special at The Oval.

Now, for those of you with no interest in – or knowledge of – the game of cricket, the above paragraph will mean very little. Basically Test Match Special is a radio show and, dare I say, a great British institution. It is famed not just for its commentary and analysis, but for the fact it attracts bakers from all across the country, keen to flex their muscles and sift a bit of flour. And, for the last few years, reminded of the fun I used to have as a child helping my mum prepare cricket teas for the local club, I was determined to be one of them.

Unable to find any baking rules online, I decided the best strategy would be to bake first (to show commitment) and then email/tweet across my bake to get some delivery instructions. I planned a cricket ball-themed cake (with 261 sugar balls), spent seven hours in the kitchen baking and borrowed even Duncan’s cricket ball to do a bit of sugar stitching. I spelled out TMS in cricket balls. As challenges go, it was a labour of love.

So what happened to this red and green sugar-fuelled vanilla-soaked sponge? Well, the tweet worked and lovely Aggers (one of the main commentators) replied to say: ‘@Jackie8 Wow! Fantastic. See stewards entrance of OCS stand at Vauxhall stand – and demand to deliver personally.’ I had celebrity endorsement and a route to the media centre. Duncan was then packaged off with the heavy cake in a giant plastic container and a little notelet to make the drop.

Sadly, the one thing I didn’t fully appreciate (wrapped up as I was in kgs of buttercream) was the fact that while the BBC were game, the security guards at the ground weren’t. Duncan tried three different stewards and they were either too stretched or too suspicious (apparently we could have baked anything into that cake) to let him (or the cake through). By the time I tweeted Aggers again to try and get some backing, India were all out before tea and it was all over. I should really admire the security teams for their diligence. But all I kept thinking was, how did the little five-year-old boy get through the day before? Obviously, Duncan doesn’t look like a hardcore baker!

The fact Duncan returned home with the heavy cake (I do feel so sorry for him that he carried it around all day) would normally have made me very sad indeed. And, yes, I had a little cry for all the effort. But, once I reflected on the whole experience, I quickly came back to my positive self. Firstly, I enjoyed the process. I now know how to make 261 sugar cricket balls (a skill not to be sniffed at) and I simply love being in the kitchen. And, secondly, while it may not have made it to its planned destination, you can’t take away the fact Aggers liked it (even if the security guards thought it was a sugary-disguised attempt to bring down TMS) and it certainly scooped up a few smiles along the way. I see it as a tick on the list, even though I may feel compelled to revisit the goal next year.

The reason I am blogging about this is not because I am obsessed with cake or TMS (or feeling slightly guilty because I ate a slice that must have been about 600 calories in one hit). I am writing this because it reminded me that the key to happiness is not necessarily the outcome (although it is good to have goals), but rather enjoying the journey towards that outcome. If we live in the present and take what we can from each moment, then we can be happy regardless of what happens next. And, if we can find happiness in ourselves (without looking for it in others), we will enjoy a more contented life.

This, in many ways, is how I have approached active treatment. I don’t feel brave or strong. I just face each day and look for the opportunity to smile through it. A few days ago somebody asked me if I’d always been funny. I laughed and explained I didn’t think I was particularly funny, but that any attempt at humour was just my way of tackling the challenges I face. I would rather find humour in a hospital gown that doesn’t do up right or an appointment where I have to take my top off (again!) than reflect on the fact that the reason I am experiencing these things is because cancer tried to cut my life short. If I can ‘enjoy the process’ every day and ‘be present’, I never have to worry about how many days I have left (hopefully lots and lots).

I am glad to report that Duncan, the neighbours (well, I have heard them moving around) and I are all still standing so it obviously wasn’t poisoned (Duncan’s team should be polishing off the rest today). The notelet is in the recycling, but here is a copy of the letter I hoped TMS would receive (there was even a charity mention too).

Hi Aggers and the TMS team,

I hope you are having a lovely day.

At the beginning of the year when I was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 32, I set up a ‘Brighter Life List’ on my blog (amusingly entitled ‘Small boobs, big smiles’) to help me smile through active treatment and encourage me to tick off the things I have always wanted to do, but have never found the time. Number 43 on this list (no order of priority) is to bake a cake for TMS and that’s why I am writing to you today.

Coming from a cricketing family, cricket has always played a part in my life. From serving up tea and cake to the players at our local club and cycling round the boundary as a child to following my brother across the country (a left hand opener) as he played for Wiltshire, a summer weekend without a few overs in it wasn’t really a weekend at all. Even Christmas in our household just wasn’t Christmas without my brother and dad pouring over a copy of Wisden. Interestingly, my dad (a wonderful, yet humble man) once bowled out Viv Richards when he was playing for Lansdown so he could qualify for Somerset!

My mum’s cricket teas were legendary and that is how I learned how to bake. So, wanting to bake for TMS is a natural next step for me.

To celebrate the end of chemotherapy, I have baked you a cake covered in cricket balls.

When I discovered my lump, I nearly didn’t go to the doctors because of my age. Now, I am determined to help charities, such as CoppaFeel, spread the message about early detection, so that more men and women can be treated successfully for breast cancer. I would be so grateful if you could mention the charity and ask that everyone check their boobs (men and women). Who knows? You might just save a life.

Thank you for satisfying my need for a bit of cricketing humour and keeping me smiling while I fight this challenging illness.

Let’s hope this is one delivery that’s not unplayable!

Thanks for your time and I look forward to hearing from you.

Kind regards,

Jackie Scully

I will try again. If, by any chance, you know anyone at the BBC or know how I might guarantee the drop next time, please do send me a message!

As for me, I am more determined than ever to continue with my list and live my dreams. And, I hope that, in so doing, I may encourage you to live some too!

Next up? Making a ferment.

Breast cancer lesson 138: The ten things no chemo patient should be without

On August 15, 2014August 18, 2014 By Jackie ScullyIn Chemotherapy2 Comments

When diagnosis day came along and put a spanner in my plans for the new year, I made an extra resolution. And, it’s one I’d like to think I’ve kept. As soon as I walked out of that consulting room (well, maybe a bit later after I’d had a good cry), I decided that if I was going to go through the pain of active treatment, I would use it as a way to help others. From the beginning, I haven’t been in search of pity or sympathy (although I have learned that if you hug for about six seconds first thing it can change the course of a day). I have been in search of tips to brighten my journey – and the journeys of those who face cancer treatment in the future.

I love a good kit list (reminds me of preparing for camp as a child), so it has been a real joy to work on one over the last few months. I have poured over charity booklets (Breast Cancer Care and Macmillan being the most comprehensive), I have quizzed patients wearing lovely hats in hospital waiting rooms, I have Googled until my hands ache for products and solutions to help make life that little bit easier. I am a lot happier for it and I hope, by writing about it here, you (or someone you love) will be a lot happier too.

On the menu bar of my blog, you’ll find a new section called Cancer Kit List (click here to view). I have started with chemo and will be adding surgery as soon as I’ve typed up my notes. Of course, don’t have much radiotherapy wisdom yet, because it needs to happen first!

The emphasis here is on products rather than general tips (I am already working on those for later in the year). It’s personal and is in no way backed by companies or medical advisors. But, it’s my little way of shining a light on what can be a very dark time.

If I were to pick out just 10 things from the list (putting all medicines and prescription mouthwashes to one side) to create the ultimate chemo survivor’s guide, I’d select:

Digital thermometer: This handbag essential will ensure you don’t have to camp out at A&E to find out the difference between a temperature and a hot flush!
Dark nail varnish: Ok, so work colleagues and friends may think you have gone all goth on them (or arty in my case). But, by painting your nails, you can both strengthen them and disguise any discolouration and chemo lines! The choice of colours is endless. You could even use them to match your mood. Who said cancer treatment couldn’t be fun?!
Extra strong mints: These little mints can reach tastebuds you thought were gone forever. I am still finding packets all over the house after stocking up mid chemo!
Smoothie ice lollies: Making ice lollies in a kit from my childhood was fun in a nostalgic sort of way, but eating frozen smoothie lollies was about as exciting for me as ham on Christmas morning (and that is about as exciting as food gets for me)!
A yoga bamboo turban: Whether you’re wedded to your wig or fancy tying complicated knots in your headscarves, I am a firm believer that we all need one easy-to-put-on-and-actually-rather-lovely hat. The yoga bamboo turban (made by Christine headwear) comes in so many colours and is so versatile (sport, relaxing at home, parties, work etc), you’ll wonder how you ever lived without one!
Tissues: Ignore a lack of nose hair at your peril. And eyelashes for that matter. Also doubles up as toilet paper when you’re out and about, which is most useful!
Children’s toothbrush: It’s a fact that children’s toothbrushes are far more exciting and colourful than adult equivalents. They are also, however, soft enough to look after your sensitive gums during chemo. Adult ones feel like you are brushing with a twig covered in spikes!
Ribena: Ok, so you may not be a fan of the red stuff (especially after Epirubicin), but now is the time to discover just what water flavourings you do like! When the tastebuds disappear, water (which is essential for flushing the system) will be anything but appetising.
LIMBO: Try showering without this waterproof arm protector when you’ve got a PICC line in and you’ll soon realise that attempting to keep one arm dry is neither fun nor practical.
Lightweight scarf: With temperature changes, hot flushes and skin sensitivity on chemo, you could be forgiven for thinking you need a suitcase of clothes just to go for a walk. Big summer scarves (and there are some lovely ones out there) will be your jumper, your neck protector, your sunscreen, your windbreak and your style statement. And, they fold up to virtually nothing when you just want the comfort of knowing it’s in your bag if you need it.

Of course, there are many others (hence why I have started the cancer kit list), but these are the ones that continue to raise a smile, even though the chemo days are already starting to fade.

Every day, someone is called into a hospital consulting room and told they have cancer. Every day, someone will face a side effect of treatment for the first time and find a way to cope with it. By sharing tips and advice, it is my hope that every day in a cancer patient’s journey is one they are prepared to face.

Breast cancer lesson 137: Why I am looking for happiness in the everyday

On August 14, 2014August 18, 2014 By Jackie ScullyIn Happiness4 Comments

Fifty days ago, I challenged myself to take part in the ‪#100happydays project (click here to read more) as a way of focusing on all that is good in the world before the end of active treatment (and, as it turns out, slightly beyond).

Am I happier as a result of posting pictures of positive moments on Facebook for the last few months? If I think about the process of finding an internet connection when away from home and uploading pictures, I would say not. But, when I think of the way in which the project has forced me to live in the present, make things happen and take note of the parts of the day that make me smile, I would argue that, even though I am still only half way through, it has already been a resounding success. I wouldn’t say it has made me happier, but rather reminded me of just how happy I really am.

When I think back over the photos that have made the cut (click here for the first 20 and see below for the following 30), I am not faced with a montage of far-flung destinations and once-in-a-lifetime opportunities. Yes, there are a few moments that are unlikely to be repeated (my hair is growing back so bald cliff walking is out, and I doubt my name will ever feature in The Guardian again). But, what my photo reporting highlights is that happiness exists in the everyday. It’s on the doorstop, in a teacup, in friendship, at the park and in a homemade loaf. Simple pleasures lead to lasting smiles.

On day 41, for example, I talk about a play called The Blue Bird, which is mentioned a couple of times in Gretchin Rubin’s The Happiness Project. The play is about two children who spend a year searching the world for the Blue Bird of Happiness, only to find it waiting for them when they finally return home. I think this is something we could all quite easily apply to our own lives. How quick we are to attach happiness to life’s big events, when what we should be doing is making the most of the everyday, accepting that big events are a bonus.

I may have peripheral neuropathy, sore nails, sleep deprivation and chicken fluff for hair, but, right now as I write this blog, I can honestly say I am truly happy. Cancer has taken a lot, but given me so much in return. I have looked hard at myself in the mirror and have decided that life is too short to not smile back at the reflection.

It’s true that you can’t be happy all the time (and in many ways you wouldn’t want to be). But, if you can seek out and grab hold of little moments of happiness, it will make those moments of sadness so much easier to bear.

Good luck finding happiness in your day.

Here’s a quick overview (click here for the first 20 if you missed lesson 124) of the last 30 day happy days:

Day 21: Today is a mini milestone day! It marks the last day of my zoladex implant injections. Here’s hoping this giant needle, which has created a constellation of six dots on my left side, has helped in the fight against infertility caused by chemotherapy. I am happy to have been offered it, but as the cause of lots of my hot flushes (it is designed to send you into the menopause), I will be happy when the drug is officially out of my system in four weeks time! Thank you medicine for advancing in this way and thank you nurses for making the giant needle as painless as possible (even though this hole is still bleeding as if in protest). One more milestone down! Yippee!

Day 22: Lunch, lollies and smiles with my mum. What better way is there to spend a Wednesday (if we ignore the hospital trip and blood test that is). Three cheers for mums! They make this world a happier place – and they help with the washing! I love my mum very much and wouldn’t be smiling through treatment without her.

Day 23: Last chemo day tomorrow looms, so what better way to celebrate its arrival than with a cake made up of pills! It’s not made of ginger (vanilla syrup sponge with buttercream instead), but looking forward to cutting into it tomorrow before Tax steals my tastebuds for one last time. Feeling happy and very excited!

Day 24: This is it! Four months of poisoning and am about start my last three-week chemo cycle! While there are dark days to come and then radiotherapy, today is about celebrating and chemo cake. Thanks for the sign Shelley Varley! This could just be the happiest Friday of 2014 so far!

Day 25: Green things from the garden! If you’ve never tried growing your own veg, I would urge you to start. It is such a wonderful feeling to take something from the ground and walk it metres to your plate. Chilli peppers, broad beans, courgettes and dwarf beans for dinner it is. Excited! Hope you’re having a wonderful Saturday.

Day 26: a beautiful afternoon catching up on 14 years with a beautiful friend. I look forward to writing in this wonderful notebook when the sparkle of inspiration hits me. Thank you for you. Must get a picture next time!

Day 27: I nearly lost my great aunt at Christmas two years ago to illness, so it has been amazing to spend this sleepy post chemo day in her company. The gift of family is a great gift indeed. She is one of life’s fighters and is making the most of the moments life has gifted her. Tired, but very very happy.

Day 28: Inspiration is never far away if you open your eyes to the world. It might come in the form of a message on a billboard, a note through the door, or even a clipping from the newspaper. Today, it’s a pitta recipe ripped out of the Metro (apologies to the next reader). Something I have never tried to bake and now I have the recipe and the time to make it happen. Hope you’ve found something to inspire you wherever you are today.

Day 29: There are few things that excite me more than having a diary packed with special moments to enjoy. So thrilled that this morning’s post has brought with it the date of MY LAST DAY OF ACTIVE TREATMENT. 15 SEPTEMBER here we come! Ignoring the 10 years of drugs and potential post-radiotherapy side effects, this is one day that will be cherished for the rest of my life. 54 days to go! Just need to think of a way to celebrate!

Day 30: Cut flowers from the garden are a gift from nature. What I love so much about them is the fact you have to keep picking them to get bigger, brighter and more beautiful flowers. So, pick them I will! Applied to life, I love the idea that by getting knocked down, we have to chance to come back stronger. Who knows? I might have a few more petals when this all ends! Here’s to beautiful flowers!

Day 31: the great British sunshine. When it shines, I find it hard to think of anywhere I would rather be. Have a wonderful weekend one and all.

Day 32: Play! We often do so little of it, yet it always has a way of making me smile. It has been so long since I played snooker, I couldn’t even remember how to set up the balls! More play in future methinks. Hope you are all finding ways to play today.

Day 33: Sometimes, there are just no words to do justice to the kindness of others. I think this picture says it all. Thank you so much Hannah Guy and Anne Johnson. It means more than I can say. Enjoy the mud – and great tutus!

Day 34: Number 17 on the brighter life list is officially ticked off. Standing on top of a cliff with no hair is as liberating as it sounds! When I set out on the treatment journey I vowed to do more of what makes me happy. The brighter life list (on my blog smallboobsbigsmiles.com) is an important part of this. If there’s something you’ve always wanted to do, but somehow find a way to put it off, start planning it now. You can’t see round the corner, so you’ve got to make the most of the path you’re on. Enjoy!

Day 35: it was only a matter of time before ‘tea’ made an appearance on the happy days list. For me, always best served large in a cup or a mug. Milk not optional. I gave it up for a year and remember the first time I tasted it again. It was amazing. I don’t think I will ever deprive myself if this simple pleasure again. Best drink ever!

Day 36: arguably the best bread and butter pudding in the world. It is the third time I have eaten this particular dish (first being 2011 when I tried bread and butter pudding for the first time). With its own personal message from the chef about why he loves it, it is pretty special. Question is, will he ever divulge the recipe? Whatever indulgence you crave, seek it out. A great pudding is a little way to raise a big smile.

Day 37: spending time with my beautiful godson. Children, with their curiosity, zest for life and innocence, are a joy to be around. I feel very blessed – even if I was quizzed on who lives down the toilet at story time!

Day 38: the best days are the ones where you learn something new. This is a grotter on Whitstable beach. We came for the fireworks at the end of the oyster festival. We got not just fireworks, but lots of little lanterns on the beach crafted from oyster shells. It was a beautiful sight. Have a wonderful weekend one and all.

Day 39: Time together with people you love is always time well spent. We all want more hours in the day, but what’s important is making the most of the hours we have. I know I am, and I hope you are too. Here’s to spending the day with the people who make you smile! Happy weekend one and all.

Day 40: home and happy. I always love coming home after a trip away. I think I appreciate it just that little bit more. This time, we had some rather unexpected GIANT vegetables waiting for us. That’s base for the chutney sorted for this year. Just got to freeze them! Hope you’ve all had a lovely weekend.

Day 41: How lovely it is to exercise in the sunshine in such a lovely part of London. I feel very lucky to have Greenwich Park on my doorstep and feel spoilt for choice with the many paths there are to discover. Beauty isn’t hard to find if you look around you with a thankful heart. In her book, The Happiness Project, Gretchin Rubin cites a play called The Blue Bird. The play is about two children who spend a year searching the world for the Blue Bird of Happiness, only to find it waiting for them when they finally return home. May you find happiness where you live.

Day 42: Happiness is homemade bread, homemade granola and an email from one of my favourite restaurants with their bread and butter pudding recipe. I always think things taste better when made by hand with a healthy helping of love. I have decided to try and go a year without buying a sliced loaf. That means I’ll either be baking lots of bread or going without! Should be fun. Indulge your passions and you will be rewarded.

As a side note, thanks for all the pledges so far. If you haven’t already, please head to my blog to read about why pledging to buy me a drink can raise funds for a great charity (click here). Thanks.

Day 43: Cleaning (and decluttering in general) is a great way to reengage with your possessions. This fountain pen, which was bought for me by my grandparents (they engraved it with my name, which makes it extra special), hasn’t seen the light of day in years. But today, having rediscovered it, it has a new cartridge in it and is ready to go. I think sometimes we are so busy looking for the next thing that we don’t often appreciate what we already have. I urge you to rummage through those drawers to see what treasures you can find and bring back to life! Happy hunting.

Day 44: Today’s happy moment comes not from my first tattoo (more on that later), but from a little surprise. Duncan Sloan’s pink shorts have made it onto the homepage of the Guardian website. The Life and Style section (click here) picked up my Breast Cancer Care blog about running and we’ve made it onto the Running Blog. That means Emily Pinkerton, Fran Walker and Robert Pinkerton have made the nationals! Three cheers for Duncan’s pink shorts!

Day 45: Utopia does exist. It’s in my TV and it is an amazing series oozing with vibrant colours that I have only just discovered. I love a great TV series addiction. Somehow, life doesn’t feel complete without one. Yes, I appreciate I am miles behind. But, at least I got there in the end.

Day 46: not pretty I’ll admit, but happiness is feet out of heels after seven hours in them at a wedding is the best feeling in the world! I don’t think I was made to wear anything other than a ballet pump.

Day 47: the first glass of post-chemo wine I can actually taste. Oh my, it tastes good. The only good thing about being deprived of something is the joy it brings when you get it back. My little bit of heaven on a Sunday night. Hope you’ve found yours! J xx

Day 48: how wonderful it is to learn something new! Today it is a word: ‘Hygge’. This Danish word means ‘creating a nice, warm atmosphere and enjoying the good things in life with the good people around you’. If we Brits had such a beautiful word in our vocabulary, maybe we too could be considered among the happiest people in the world. Here’s to a life with more ‘hygge’!

Day 49: Number 9 on the brighter life list ticked off! Lovely walk round the Olympic park with mum and dad. Visited the velodrome and have worked out my route to the aquatics centre when I am once more allowed to swim! It feels great to be able to start ticking things off! The brighter life list has given me a focus. Hope you can find your focus too.

Day 50: I love finding shops in London where skilled people can fix things without charging a fortune. My watch is ticking again and was actually fixed in front of me (instead of sent away to expensive battery sorting elves for weeks on end). I feel naked without my watch and I never get bored of people asking me why I am consulting my bracelet to tell the time . Time is so important. It slips by and, once spent, is lost forever. Here’s hoping ithis watch and I enjoy many new batteries!

Breast cancer lesson 136: Say goodbye to the fake menopause – and hello to a good night’s sleep

On August 12, 2014August 18, 2014 By Jackie ScullyIn Chemotherapy, Fertility, Zoladex2 Comments

Contrary to what my oncologist thinks (although I fear he was trying to lighten things), no woman needs a fake menopause to prepare themselves for the real thing. You may see it as an end to periods as you know them. In truth, the menopause disrupts so much more than that (sleep being top of the list) and, enduring it more than once is not something ever to be encouraged.

That is, unless you want to try and give your ovaries a chance of coming back to life after chemo!

Four weeks ago today, I was waiting patiently in the oncology clinic for my very last Zoladex injection (click here for lesson 124 and a quick reminder). Zoladex (also known as Goserelin) is a hormone therapy sometimes offered to pre-menopausal women throughout chemo to send their ovaries to sleep. The idea is that chemo drugs tend not to attack things that aren’t actually doing anything (similar to the cold cap treatment to reduce the chances of hair loss). While its effectiveness is still yet to be proven, it is widely agreed that while taking the drug may not guarantee you retain your fertility after treatment, it certainly doesn’t do any harm (unless you see four months of sleep deprivation as harmful)!

With no Zoladex appointment scheduled, today marks the start of the waiting game. Up until now, I have not expected a period. Now, I live in hope that my body will return itself to normal and not actually send me into the official menopause (if feels strange to be wanting something like a period. I will probably regret saying that if it comes back with a vengeance). The odds, based on my age, are good. The reality? No one knows and no one dares predict. It’s saving me a fortune in sanitary products, but I would really rather just take the hit.

I haven’t written much about my feelings surrounding the prospect of infertility. I have always been a great believer that things are meant to be. I remain thankful that lots of my friends have been able to conceive and I feel lucky to have so many children in my life (if not under our roof). Whatever happens (even with seven embryos in the freezer), I just feel happy to be here. The future can take care of itself. The way I see it, childless and alive is still a good result! And, if children do feature in our future, I have Zoladex to thank for preparing me well for months of sleep deprivation.

Of course, it’s not just the periods I am willing to return. A night without a yo-yoing temperature is something about which I have been dreaming (when I get the rare chance) for a long time. I understand that Tamoxifen – my soon to be best friend for the next 10 years – is likely to cause at least some of the same symptoms (lucky me!), but given I don’t have to start taking this daily delight until radiotherapy is over, I am hoping for at least a little break (PLEASE!!!!!!). I am now pretty effective on about three hours (my usual pattern is to fall asleep straight away and then wriggle around in a few different outfits from 2am onwards) – but I really wish I didn’t need to be. When a lie-in is once again a treat, you will all know about it. The title of this post may seem a little premature, but I am hoping by expressing it publically, my body might just take the hint!

My fingers are well and truly crossed. Let the waiting game begin!

Breast cancer lesson 135: Why I won’t be binning my bras just yet!

On August 11, 2014August 18, 2014 By Jackie ScullyIn Breast reconstruction surgery1 Comment

Breast cancer surgery does present most women with a bust-sized dilemma. Can I – and should I – get back to wearing the bras I lovingly selected for myself before cancer stole my boob? The answer, it seems, like a lot of other cancer-related questions, is that there are no hard and fast rules.

Having had DIEP surgery, it seems surgeons, breast nurses and patients alike all agree that you should steer away from under-wired bras for a good six months after the operation. This I have done – in fact I can’t stop wearing my post-surgery bra in bed, which I was allowed to remove at night after six weeks!

What happens after six months, however (a marker I am about to hit), is the subject of much debate. Being a big fan of my underwear drawer, I was delighted to hear from both my plastic surgeon and a fellow survivor that, in their view, the question is not whether or not you should wear under-wired bras, but more whether wearing under-wired bras is actually comfortable. In fact, the best piece of advice I received was from an event speaker who suggested you try on everything in your underwear drawer before deciding to burn the contents (with Suzie the wig in tow, it would make an impressive fire though).

The fact my bras may get a stay of execution makes me very happy for a number of reasons. Firstly, if you’ve actually had the joy of scouring the racks in a department store for something without a wire, you’ll discover it’s not really a joy at all. The selection is limited (think 20 racks of wired to 1 rack of non-wired and you’ll get the picture) and it seems you are suddenly categorised alongside breastfeeding mothers and teenage starter bras, which is not particularly sexy for a lifetime choice. Building up a new collection is not something I fancy doing overnight either, especially when I have a tummy fat-filled new boob, which has a tendency to grow when it feels like it (if you’ve been following the blog you will know that the fat never actually forgets its origins and can grow considerably if you put on weight).

Of course, with the help of Google, I have found a few non-wired bras that make me feel my age (and feminine as well, which is a bonus). M&S, Gap and Fig Leaves have been my shops of choice and I am delighted to have found some that are navy and pink (rather than simply beige, beige, white and more beige). Amoena also has some nice styles, which I may try if the post-surgery bra fashion parade doesn’t go according to plan. My advice is definitely to try out some different non-wired styles in the months following surgery (for morale more than anything else) and avoid the stores (mail order is much more satisfying and you don’t risk dragging yourself round the shops to find the only one you like isn’t available in your size).

If the under-wired option does prove to be a little uncomfortable, I do have a few back-up plans. Firstly, I am attending a meeting with a bra manufacturer one evening in September to discuss wearer trials for some post-surgery bras (that don’t make you feel like you’re either 70 or 12). Secondly, I have signed up to a lingerie evening with Breast Cancer Care in October to get a proper fitting (let’s hope new boobie plays ball) and some tips on choosing right bra for your body shape. They are held across the country and come highly recommended for those looking for a bit of comfort and style!

I will let you know how I get on when I can extract myself from the comfort of my post-surgery bra. It may take a while, given I have to minimise friction while going through radiotherapy (am just hoping I can run and wear clothes for that period at the moment).

As a quick aside, for those of you worried about whether or not there is a link between the type of bra you wear and breast cancer, please do not despair. There is a great piece by Cancer Research UK (click here to read), which explains that there is no scientific evidence to link the two. It appears that some people believe under wired bras can have a negative effect on the lymphatic system (causing toxins to build up in the breast area). Cancer Research UK explains that your bra would have to be unbearably tight to start to have any impact at all.

The underwear drawer is safe for now – and long may it remain so!

Breast cancer lesson 134: Get ready to graduate. Chemo is one test you will pass

On August 8, 2014August 18, 2014 By Jackie ScullyIn Chemotherapy4 Comments

August 8 will forever be known as the day I officially finished chemo.

Unlike most other milestones on this cancer journey, this day comes with no medical-related strings attached. No needles, no toxic cocktail being pumped into my veins, no boob job. Just me at the end of a three-week cycle NOT sitting in a chemo chair. That makes it pretty special.

How did I celebrate this momentous occasion you ask? I went to the hospital of course! This time, however, it was for an arm measurement as part of the Lymphoedema clinical trial and the last of my wonderful aromatherapy treatments courtesy of Dimbleby Cancer Care. I baked some flapjack because I was visiting the Cancer Day Unit for my massage. But, that is where the similarities end.

As the end of a three-week cycle, you could be forgiven for thinking that I might now be symptom free. Sadly, the cumulative effect of chemo means that bits are still falling off – and may continue to do so for quite some time. It feels a little cruel that at the time you’re recovering, you can actually start to look a little worse. But then, I don’t think chemo likes playing by the rules – hence the fact we all have a different experience going through it.

With a break in the cycles at last, I thought it would be fitting to take stock and look at the aftermath. Basically, what’s left and what’s a little bit wonky. Here’s the damage (so far):

Head: arguably still bald, but now sprouting what I call ‘chicken fluff’. It’s soft like baby hair (another reason why I liken chemo to being reborn). Not sure on the colour yet, but I’m hoping it isn’t grey. These pictures hopefully give you a glimpse of the fluff – although I do appreciate the lighting makes me look a little like an alien!
Eyebrows and eyelashes: clinging on for dear life still, but fading fast I fear. People do say the eyebrows are the last to go and it looks like that may be the case. I do feel lucky though because the combination of lighter hair and glasses does make it hard to tell if they are there or not. I am sad I can’t wear mascara (my one or two lashes would look a little weird if I highlighted them)!
Other hair: why is it that the leg hair is the first to reappear? As if anyone wants that back! I have heard that if you wax it early on, it may forget to grow back. If you can vouch for this do let me know before I rush off to get them waxed! The arm hair, on the other hand, is now falling off (having thinned throughout). Everything else is still pretty much absent (oh, nose hair, my runny nose misses you). I am watching my big toes carefully as I have heard they can become a bit Frodo-like in the post-chemo days.
Nails: Sore nails are really not pleasant. If you tap them on a hard surface (I did this once and now try to avoid at all costs) if feels as if they are coming off. They remain painted in blue and pink, but the last time I reapplied the colour, there was a lot of discolouration and my big toes were black. Thank you nail varnish is all I can say. At least this is something that can be masked.
Hands and feet: I have separated this out from nails because the key side effect I have been left to enjoy is peripheral neuropathy. This means I get a tingling in my hands and feet and the numbness/reduced sensation in both is very odd indeed. I can live with it, but I really hope I don’t have to.
Weight: A 2kg increase over seven months is a result in my book. Now just got to get rid of the steroid hamster cheeks and lovingly protect my flat-but-bulging-a-bit stomach.
Tastebuds: back in the game and currently devouring some homemade bread. Bread has such a subtle flavour, it really isn’t worth eating when the tastebuds disappear. I am certainly making up for it now (although ever mindful of the point before).
Mouth: ulcer free and no white tongue. Whoop!
Liver: survived! Thank you liver. I need you.
Hot flushes: controlled slightly by the Clonidine (I can increase the dosage, but am not at the moment), but still a pain at night. I do love the sunshine and the summer, but think the autumn weather may help.
Skin: silky smooth and slightly tanned (for the first time in about a decade). It does feel as if I have been regenerated. Still on the factor 50 and think I may be for the rest of my days.
Fatigue: I am not sure whether this is due to the drugs or the general lack of sleep caused by the Zoladex.
Brain: in tact, just. I have been known to put the plates in the fridge (along with the cereal). But, I think I may have done that in the pre-chemo days, so I don’t really have any excuses.
Positivity level: still smiling!

Everything else is still in tact (or yet to be investigated)! I certainly won’t be scratching the surface to find out.

Am I happy to have survived four months of toxic drugs without being hopsitalised and spending even one day in bed. Absolutely! Would I go through it again? Not this month – and hopefully never again! I was reading only the other day that scientists are predicting that chemo will be obsolete within 20 years (due to a project looking at the genes responsible for cancer). To think that people may one day be cured without these drugs is a wonderful thought.

When things stop falling off me, I will be uploading my cancer kit list (along with my top tips and reflections on chemo) to help all those facing sessions in the chemo chair. One thing I will say now though is that chemotherapy doesn’t come with a textbook. If it did, we’d all be reading it. There are things we can all do to prepare, but it is far better to wake up each day and meet each challenge head on than worry about the challenges you may never have to face. Easier said than done, but it can be done!

There’s no mortarboard, gown and certificate waiting for this graduate – just the satisfaction of knowing I am out the other side (and I have good skin)!

I got there – and so will you.

Breast cancer lesson 133: Embrace those tattoos! It’s radio planning time

On August 7, 2014August 18, 2014 By Jackie ScullyIn Radiotherapy2 Comments

It’s official. I am a rebel. This morning I woke up a tattooless woman. Now, I have three!

Ok, so when I say tattoos, they are pretty unremarkable. Here’s one, and I must say it looks more like a misplaced biro mark or poppy seed. It certainly won’t be doing the rounds at parties, that’s for sure! But it is permanent and the hospital radiographer used the word ‘tattoos’ so I’m taking it. Surgery took my boob and tummy fat, chemo took the hair I spent 32 years learning how to style (it won’t come back exactly the same I doubt – let’s just hope it’s not grey) and will no doubt scar me in some other way, so I see this as radiotherapy’s way of getting in on the action and making its mark.

As appointments go, the radiotherapy planning session is fascinating. Down in the windowless lower ground floor of the hospital I sat in a waiting room with just one other (a rare treat) ready for my biro dots. Here’s what happened:

It started with a quick pep talk from a radiographer. She talked me through the planning session, checked it was me who signed the consent form and took a photo (just to make sure they blast the right person in future).
Next, I was collected once more from the waiting room and ushered into a room with a CT scanner, a bed and a variety of plinths. The team of three (including a student) were really friendly and it was lovely to see them getting on so well. I was also amused by the party mix playing in the background, which was later revealed to be a playlist from someone’s younger days. Certainly livened up proceedings.
Once I’d taken my top off (again) and popped on a gown (best to wear a top and skirt or trousers rather than a dress so you don’t have to take everything off), I was asked to sit on the edge of the bed in a specific position. I then had to lift my legs up to rest against a metal plate at the end of the bed, before shuffling my bum to rest against something behind me. Bum in place, I was asked to lie down, clasp my hands together and raise them above my head, placing my arms into two arm rests. Finally, I was wiggled around (they ask you to let yourself go heavy in the bed so they do all the moving) to get my body in the correct position.
Position sorted, the felt tip pen came out. Then started the art class all over my boobs! Here’s one of the marks (that thankfully I do get to wash off tonight). The marks were accompanied by little stickers and lots of shouting out of letters and numbers (apparently my arms are CYK). I believe this is to make sure they record accurate measurements so that I am positioned in exactly the same way for every dose.
Art class complete, the CT scanning began. It takes a matter of moments and is completely painless. I did start to get pins and needles up my arm at one point (I think this may have something to do with the ongoing peripheral neuropathy in my hands), but thankfully it did fade so I didn’t need to move.
After the scan came the fun part – the tattoos. A bit of ink, a few tiny pricks, some cotton wool to stem the slight bleeding (I bleed at the sight of a needle) and it was all done!
Dignity restored, I was handed a piece of material to bring with me to each session (I was lying on it so imagine it is to do with the alignment or protection – if you know please post here) and my times for the 15 blasts. I now know that 2pm on Monday 15 September is the end!

Lesson of the day? Don’t wear a white bra and shirt to a radio planning meeting. A bit of blood and felt tip do not clean clothes make! Also, maybe best not to wear sandals in hot weather that make your feet a little whiffy.

I was also amused that the book I am currently reading started to allude to the children’s book We’re going on a bear hunt just before I was called in for my appointment. Regular readers may remember my connection with the book and the words inside. Click here for lesson 107 and a quick reminder!

Biro dots in place, I am ready for my blasting!

NB: as a side note, my piece on running for Breast Cancer Care, has been picked up by The Guardian and is currently on the homepage and the Life and Style section. Duncan’s marvellous pink shorts have made it into the nationals! Click here to see them in all their glory.

Breast cancer lesson 132: Every end is a new beginning

On August 5, 2014August 18, 2014 By Jackie ScullyIn Exercise and breast cancer, Happiness25 Comments

With the end of active treatment fast approaching (currently down as 15 September), my thoughts have been turning to celebrations and a way of marking my official independence day. It’s a moment I never thought I’d have to experience – let alone celebrate – but it’s a moment I intend to enjoy.

Of course, I have considered the more conventional route of a party. But when the people I want to thank are all across the country (not the mention the world), it doesn’t seem quite right (and the pink hearts thank you campaign is already well underway). So, I have decided on a less conventional course of action (would you expect anything less?). That’s why, on Sunday 14 September, I will be making my way to a starting line at Wembley for the Run to the Beat 10k.

Marking the end with another starting line sums up how I feel about moving on. It is fair to say that running (and exercise in general) has been a real lifeline for me over the last seven months. It has cleared my mind and kept me from busting out of my clothes. It has lifted me when I felt like falling (so much so that it is the subject of my latest blog of Breast Cancer Care – click here to read). And, it is something I want to make space for in the real Jackie world, when I return to it in October.

For me, October is a new start, a new chapter in my life. It’s what I have been fighting for all along, so it is only fitting that I run towards it and grab it with both hands. Another 10k will keep me focused (and help me conquer the fatigue associated with radiotherapy). And, this time, I want to run the distance (so I can convince myself that I can conquer an even bigger challenge next year – watch this space).

Coming so soon after my last run (and being the same distance), I feel it would be wrong to ask for sponsorship in exactly the same way. So, I have a plan. I will be running the race for the amazing charity CoppaFeel (adding to my work as a Boobette, which you can read more about by clicking here). Rather than sponsor me, all I am asking for is a pledge from you. This pledge is simply to buy me a drink to celebrate the end of active treatment. For every pledge I receive, I will make a donation out of my own money to CoppaFeel. As I see it, it’s a win-win situation. CoppaFeel gets much-needed funds, I spend my hard-earned cash on a great charity rather than London room hire, you don’t have to travel to an end of active treatment party and I have an excuse to see you all individually to make good on every pledge. I really hope you’ll get behind my idea and help me celebrate, so I can enjoy your company at the same time as raising money for a fabulous charity. Convoluted I know, but I have never been known for taking the easy route!

To pledge, all you have to do is post here using the comment field. Don’t worry, it might just be a cup of tea. And, it doesn’t have to be collected soon. But, now I can taste again, it won’t be a Ribena or a cranberry juice.

The treatment chapter of my life is one I am keen to close. But, I am in some ways thankful it was opened in the first place. It has made me see that if you spend your life wishing for the next big event, you will miss out on living. The next big event might not be one of your choosing. In life, it’s the every day – and not the once in a while – that matters.

Best get those tatty old running shoes out again!

	Susan on Breast cancer lesson 166: Why…
	Kate on Breast cancer lesson 159: Choo…
	Annieapple on Breast cancer lesson 166: Why…
	Karen rowley on Breast cancer lesson 166: Why…
	Janice on Breast cancer lesson 148: Life…

	Susan on Breast cancer lesson 166: Why…
	Kate on Breast cancer lesson 159: Choo…
	Annieapple on Breast cancer lesson 166: Why…
	Karen rowley on Breast cancer lesson 166: Why…
	Janice on Breast cancer lesson 148: Life…