Seriously, when does all the crappy crap crap end? Ok, don’t answer that because I am assuming it is when we die but, I would just like some nice for a while ok?
Our boy, Brady Bailey-Wilkinson passed away in my arms on the 27th of September, in my living room when the vet injected the fatal green liquid into his veins. There was no more that our boy could give. He’d had enough. He was tired. It was time. Cancer took my baby boy from me.
What really makes me angry is that my beautiful boy nursed me through my very own shitty cancer. He had a paw on my knee constantly, his beautiful eyes looked lovingly at me and his cuddles were never lacking.
This is the paw print we took of our boys paw the night before he passed away. Thank you so very much to my friend Lauren Kennedy for supplying the paint, canvas and love. This paw print of my boy Brady will be tattooed on to my thigh, just above my knee, where Brady used to always rest his paw.
What I will never complain about is the extra time we had with our boy. Too often we hear of a pet or person being lost in an instant. No time to spoil them or say goodbye. Car accident, stroke or heart attack. Thankfully, we had a couple of weeks to thank Brady for being with us and for those cuddles, laughs, sobs and giggles.
These photos are from my amazing sister Annette who bought lovely gifts and messages for Brady. Kally wrote some gorgeous messages to Brady which I will treasure forever.
There was night after night of delicious dinners for that amazing guy. Cuddles galore and beautiful memories made.
The greatest thing we did was have a ‘We Love You Brady’ party. Grandma, Nana and Poppa, sister Accalia, Auntie Annette and cousins Jordan and Kally, Mama and Papa were all there to celebrate Brady’s amazing contribution to our lives as well as his amazing, relaxed, loved up and funny life. He was inundated with gifts, love and food. Funny things happened through the day including Brady being ever so focused on Kally’s gluten free scone. If nothing else happened that day, Brady really wanted to have this scone. When everyone had gone for the day, Brady was absolutely pooped but the smile on his face was unmistakable.
Papa Sam cooked up an amazing ginormous almost dinosaur looking bone for Brady that day and I thought his eyeballs (Brady’s, not Sams) were going to pop right out of his head! He also had an entree of cheese and sausage which, as you can see, he was pretty darn happy about.
Grandma bought some special gifts for our boy being a funny and strange green toy and some lovely home made peanut butter dog cookies. Kelly got the orange toy and left over cookies.
Ok, I’m rambling because things haven’t gotten easier since the passing of my amazing and special gorgeous boy.
We had some awful and horrible news that another of our amazing family is now battling breast cancer. No, please don’t pry asking who and what and so forth because not everyone is as open as I am and this is their story, not mine, but, I can honestly say, this is shit. Has our wonderful family not done their time with this horrible disease? We have had beautiful and gorgeous people in my ‘old’ and ‘new’ family have to deal with this and it is just not fair. Enough is enough.
There are some really shitty crappy people in this world who deserve to be struck down with some shit arse disease but not the people I am hearing about. Stop it. Leave the good people alone and strike down the pedophiles, the people who pretend to have cancer to gain funds or fame, the horrible people who murder, rape or are horrible to animals. Why does this happen to nice and innocent people and animals?
On a nicer note, all going well with stage 1 of reconstruction. I’ll touch base again soon with more information on the recon and next stage of letting go of the cancer journey.
I cried because my beautiful boy looked at me with his beautiful big brown eyes. He looked like he was sad.
He looked like he was loving me.
He looked like he was happy.
You decide what he looked like.
I have watched him all day, hobbling, sniffing, being incredibly uncomfortable, strange breathing while sleeping and bringing me toys. He is still doing dog things, Brady things but, he isn’t our Brady anymore.
He is riddled with an incurable cancer. He is in pain. He is sad.
I cry because I don’t know when it is ‘time’.
How do I know that he has had enough?
I don’t want to wait until he is exhausted but I don’t want to do it when he is still brining me a ball to throw for him.
I have loved sharing my life with Brady but right now, I hate it. I am so confused and lost.
Brady is as loving as ever but I fear his time is near.
I can’t wait for his surprise BBQ party on Sunday but I fear what follows it.
Do not scroll down if you do not want to see my stomach. (Sorry if my stomach shows up in any of your browsers because I am not totally aware of how to keep certain photos hidden) It isn’t too bad to look at but I have been looking at it for four weeks now so am pretty used to is. It is a cut from hip to hip but don’t worry, it is all stitched up AND, you can see my new belly button.
The reason this area was cut to pieces was so they could use a flap of skin and a whole heap of my tummy fat to build a new boob for me.
You’ll also be able to see my amazing photoshopping aaahahah but honestly, this is why I am unable to drive, bend, sneeze comfortably, have husband and wife time, walk semi decent distances and also why I tend to say, geez my stomach hurts a bit today!
Just a little more…
ok, I couldn’t work out how to post the photo without it showing on your facebook feed with my stomach there for you to see weather you want to see it or not. Also, I can’t work out how to delete this blog post LOL. I’ll work it out later. sorry folks…
Turns out there was some kind of malfunction of the drain so they removed it. Definitely not sorry to see that gone but it has been replaced with a plastic bag type thing that sticks to the hole in my skin and collects the blood and puss stuff in the bag. Kind of like a colostomy bag.
When we got home from the hospital I was absolutely exhausted and slept the entire afternoon away and woke feeling sore but happy to be waking in my own bed.
So I happily sit here medicated with minimal pain, drainless, Kath and Kim on the TV, dogs quietly sleeping…. Life is good.
I did have a chat to the gorgeous breast care nurse at St Andrews about my pain medication issues and thankfully, there was finally someone on my side and who understood exactly what the hell was going on with me.
Oh and guess what private health insurance entitles you too? A first class, front of the non existent line in the emergency ward. There was not one person waiting in the emergency section of the hospital and was seem almost immediately by the nurse and then doctor. I was given a warmed gown and blanket to put on while I waited the whole eight minutes for the doctor.
So, today I shall not complain about what I do not get from private health insurance but stay tuned for that rant… its coming J
Update on pain, it is still there and still extreme but pain killers are taking the edge off and stop my blubbering.
To anyone who thinks doctors are not entirely truthful as to how long it takes to recover from surgery, I say, listen to them.
My surgeon told me I would need six weeks recovery from this surgery which I thought was preposterous and told my boss as much. I said that I would be happy to take two weeks to recover from surgery and then work from home for the remaining four weeks. Baaaahahahahah what a silly little twit I was.
I will be making the phone call to my boss tomorrow to explain that the surgeon may have had a point in advising I would need 6 weeks to recover from surgery. I just know from previous surgeries that the recovery time was ‘kind of ‘ correct but I could have easily worked from home, just not travelled to work and dealt with walking, pushing and pulling of doors etc.
This time, totally different story.
Pain is still high. Emotions are crazy. Sleeping more than I am being awake etc.
My advice to anyone planning on having this surgery, believe your surgeon when they tell you the recovery time. You will need this time not only to manage the pain but to rest your body. It is also incredible as to how often you use your stomach muscles. Spitting out toothpaste is absolutely excruciating.
I am slightly frightened of sleeping tonight with this stick on bag. I am a bit of a toss and turner during my sleep and dread the thought of accidentally rolling onto my left side and popping my puss and blood filled plastic bag. Gross huh?
How does someone become a prescription drug addict? I can’t even get a prescription without a lecture that goes on for so long and I feel like I am asking for a kilo of methamphetamine instead of some painkillers.
It is so very frustrating to be told constantly when in hospital to mention to a nurse when in pain and don’t try to be strong or to push through the pain. But, when you do that, you get a ‘look’ from a nurse, a few questions as to if the pain really is as bad as I think, lectures on addiction, constipation etc.
Now that I am home recovering from surgery, I get the ‘look’ and lecture from the local doctor who has told me she will not be looking to fill my request for this particular pain relief (oxycodone aka endone) should I require any more and will look at an alternative.
Lets get something straight. I have had a huge flap of skin taken from my stomach and placed onto my chest. A big blob of fat, muscle and blood vessels were then placed with this flap to create a new breast. The skin on my stomach was then streeeeeeetched to cover the big space now created by the missing flap and all sewn together.
Yes, I do think I am in enough pain to justify some hard-core pain killers thanks.
I know it has been a week and a half since my surgery but for goodness sake, I didn’t have my tonsils removed. I had some pretty major surgery that I think justifies the need to take these painkillers.
I know there are many people who have become addicts of these painkillers and I know they are very addictive (if you can actually get a script) but I really feel that there are times when the medical profession has to step out of their ‘all fit in one box’ mindset and realize there are some people in genuine pain. There are some people that really need these pain killers.
Why do I have to be made to feel like a criminal or drug addict when requesting a script for some pain relief? I have a drain sticking out of me, can’t walk straight for very long, can’t sit or stand for long periods of time. I think it is pretty obvious that pain relief is required.
Anyhoo, that is my rant for that situation.
I am expecting some backlash from this blog because yes, there is a terrible epidemic of prescription drug addicts and they purchase these on the black market or doctor shop etc but, my point is, not everyone is doing that. Some people are in genuine pain. I think anyone who has suffered serious pain will totally understand where I am coming from.
Thankfully I have a gorgeous cleavage to look down upon to make me happy for a moment and to remind me that this was my decision to have the surgery. I do tell myself to ‘suck it up’ about twenty times a day but in between these times, I’d like some pain relief thanks.
No, it isn’t time to see my new boob, maybe next blog 😉
Well, didn’t I laugh and judge and gossip about it. Although, I did admit, and still do, that she rocks the shaved head but I am honest in saying I was one of the many who judged this poor girl. I had no idea that something can happen in your life, in your brain, to create such a self destructive act, a cry for help.
Everyone, including myself, thought that my life was just plodding along fine and dandy. What could be wrong now that I was now a ‘cancer survivor’, I wasn’t having any further cancer treatment. I had hair again, hair I could even style. Surgery was on the cards for a new boob, weight was being lost….. wedding plans were happening.
Now……… well, here I am after MY Britney Breakdown.
It turns out that PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) is a real thing following cancer treatment. PTSD symptoms are different for each person and apparently, they usually develop within three months of a traumatic event but can also occur several months, even years later. For me, it was six months following the end of the cancer treatment. One would expect, after that amount of time, me to be happy ‘its over’ and on the road to ‘getting back to normal’ now that I don’t have to have any further cancer treatment. These expectations are not the case. Here is how it all unfolded…..
Aropax (Anti-Depressant and Anti-Anxiety Medication) 60mg
Tamoxifen (a synthetic drug used to treat breast cancer) 20mg
Avymys (works to decrease inflammation caused by allergy) 55 micrograms
Fish Oil (Helps to maintain strong bones) 1000mg
Duromine (Appetite Suppressant) 30 mg
Panadene Forte (Pain Killers)
Paracetamol 500 mg
Codeine phosphate 30 mg
Telfast (relieve the symptoms of hayfever) 180mg
Vitamin D Liquid (Strengthen Bones) 1000IU
Caltrate Calcium (Strengthen Bones)
Expectations (Beyond the normal day to day ones)
Lose a lot of weight in preparation for surgery – Breast Surgeon
Increase heart rate for a mininum of 30 days to prevent cancer returning – Oncologist
Stop smoking to prevent cancer coming back or developing a new one – Everyone (I did this one!)
Reduce or stop drinking alcohol to prevent cancer coming back – A lot of people
Reduce or stop sugar to prevent cancer coming back and to assist in losing weight – Some People
Continue to be strong – Me
Move on from cancer – Many people and myself
Stop talking about cancer – A few people
Have life return to pre cancer normal – A lot of people/myself
Upcoming Events Needing Thought and Action
Christmas gift buying
It seems I wasn’t coping with post cancer as well as I thought I was. I saw myself as a cancer patient, not a cancer survivor. I think I still do as a matter of fact but anyway, I was on a path of self destruction. Drinking too much, taking all of the above medication, I took up smoking (as previously discussed) and I wonder, did I do all of this to block out the self chatter in my head or to gain the attention some people feel I was seeking? I don’t know that answer but hopefully in time, I will find out.
The Day of my Britney Effect
I had a cold. No big deal right but it seems that it actually was a big deal. On top of all of the medications listed above, I was now about to add in 10 mls of cough medicine which would turn out to be the straw that broke the camels back (I am the camel).
My memory is vivid when I recall taking the small amount of medicine and within about 10 minutes or so, I became obsessed, almost manic in my thoughts. All I could think about was getting home from work, enjoying some sparkling wine (I had booked the following day off from work for some R&R) and not having to go to bed early. I knew I was meeting up with a lovely friend Nicole who was going to give my lovely locks a trim and then catching up with my 30+ year friend Tracey for a long overdue lunch.
I was only successful in one of my thoughts becoming an action and that was buying a bottle of my favourite Jacobs Creek Trilogy sparkling wine on the way home from work. I must say, that bottle disappeared real bloody quick and before I knew it, I was off to the bottleshop for another bottle.
This is where things get a little hazy. I vaguely remember saying goodnight to Sam when he went to bed. I vaguely remember playing some of my favourite games on facebook but then my memory is blank.
Before I know it, I am waking the next day and my hair is gone. I feel sick to my stomach and wonder what on earth happened. Where is my hair!? Somewhere deep in my brain I know it was myself that had cut it but why? How much did I cut.
Yep, all of it. Looking in the mirror when I got up was like a punch to the stomach. I could barely breathe, my hair had been cut in a drunken, manic manner. Some cuts were to the scalp and cuts were not so short and left tufts sticking out.
These tears continued for two days! TWO DAYS! I couldn’t focus, I couldn’t eat, decisions were impossible…..I couldn’t cope. And it really wasn’t even about the hair to be honest. I was so lost, confused.
I hit rock bottom.
I was suddenly aware that life wasn’t what I thought it would be after cancer. In fact, it was so much harder coping with life after cancer than it was during cancer. Do you think that is weird?
During cancer my life was taken care of by everyone but me.
GP – Tells me I have cancer and proceeds to book me in to see a surgeon immediately
Surgeon – Tells me he is the captain of the ship and it is his job to save my life. Then provides me with an Oncologist for the next step
Sam – Takes on all responsibilities of getting me too and from all appointments, provides my medications, fluids, foods, hugs and kisses. Cleans house, ensures I shower, sleep, wake, rest, laugh, changes linen on regular basis….
Mum – delivers flowers to my house weekly upon her visits
Nurses – Provide all of the compassion, caring and patience needed during hospital stays, chemotherapy treatments, radiation treatments, scans, blood tests,
Oncologist – Prepares a schedule of chemotherapy treatments, blood tests, herceptin treatments and provides me with a Radiologist
Radiologist – Schedules all of my radiation treatments, sees me on a weekly basis to check my radiation wounds, provide input on creams and treatments for healing
Radiographers – Tell me where and how to lay on the bed in preparation for treatment, count down via speakers for holding my breath when the radiation occurs, help me off the bed and have lovely chats with me about my dogs and life
Friends and Family – These amazing people do all of the visiting me, calling and texting and emailing me to check up to see I am doing ok, to fill me in on their lives, to make me smile and fill my house with flowers and cards and gifts
Private Health Insurance – Pays many of the bills received from having this disease
Income Insurance – Pays me 75% of my wage each month
The Bank – reduces the mortgage payments to assist in our treatment costs
After cancer – Where is everyone?
I was hugged and waved goodbye by the beautiful and amazing nurses at oncology on my last day of Herceptin
Hair grows back and I no longer look ill therefore, am expected to get on with life as normal
Normal doesn’t come along as easy as I thought
Banks and other billing companies are no longer so accommodating if bills are late due to ongoing financial burdens because, cancer treatment has finished
There are no more cards and flowers
No more nurses to make you smile and compare stories of the weekends with
There is nothing very interesting to talk about anymore
Fatigue and vagueness are still in my life
Surgeon is no longer so cuddly and caring but is now demanding and stern
I’m not skinny from cancer treatment like those in movies and TV shows
I am not needed by the cancer community anymore
People aren’t contacting me about their friends or family who have been diagnosed with this illness for me to help them, to talk to them, provide advice and friendship…..
Step 1 – Phone the Cancer Council day Friday 28/10/2016, 1 day after beginning of break down, and receive emergency counselling over the phone and book a face to face session. Confirm there is no risk of self harm and be unable to manage any part of a conversation without crying. Find out about PTSD, Survivor Guilt, Fear of Further Cancer, Loss of Identity…….. there are so many issues, mental heath problems, that can occur after cancer treatment has finished. It isn’t always easy to become a cancer survivor and ‘just get on with things’.
Step 2 – Phone Lisa at the Lobethal Hair Studio to fix the mess and destruction on my head. Find it impossible to stop crying the whole time I’m there. Listen to words of wisdom and good advice. Having someone who knows me so well that knows, it isn’t really about the hair……….. it is more than that.
Step 3 – Attend GP for further emergency assistance. GP proceeds to take away ALL medications and alcohol except 20mg of Tamoxifen (1 tablet for assistance in preventing further cancer) each night and 10mg of Lexipro (Anti Anxiety Medication) each morning. If I develop a headache at anytime, I am to take nothing stronger than panadol. GP books fortnightly catch ups but advises me to attend the surgery anytime between appointments if I fall apart or it gets too much again. The reason for the alcohol being stopped is because now I have no more hair, what happens if I ‘blackout’ again? I have no more hair to chop off and next time could be a lot more dangerous eg: getting in to a car, walking the streets (there are a few lakes and dams around Meadows) etc….
So, it has now been two weeks since this ‘all went down’. Some days I cruise through and other days, I am fighting to swim against my current of tears…… Nothing sets me off into the spiral of sadness and it is hard to find something to drag me out of it, try as I might.
I am thankful for some incredibly amazing people who have made it their priority to ensure I know they’re there for me. I want to thank
my amazing managers for letting me blubber my way through some attempt at explaining what was wrong with me,
for my Bulldog Veronica for fielding all queries about me, shuffling people away from me, standing up for me, protecting me,
Vanessa who sends the loveliest words which are so genuine and kind, caring and thoughtful,
TK for becoming my ‘stalker’ by sending texts filled with ridiculous world laws, funny photos of her little man Zander, memes of feelings, all while struggling with her own illness and sadness’
Tamara, my amazing friend and cousin who has been there before, during and after all of the cancer bizzo sending me her ‘minimum of three things to be grateful/thankful for’ each day and for accepting mine.
My Mum for bringing flowers and smiles yet again for this new event in her eldest daughters life.
My incredible in laws to be for their hugs and understanding in a certain matter (they know what I am talking about) and for their constant undying love for me
John and Clare Mannion for listening and offering lovely words
My work colleagues for putting up with me shuffling around from floor to floor to hide from the world for a while
The Cancer Council of South Australia on Greenhill Road
My friends and family who have, and are, allowing me to cancel all dinner, party and catch up confirmations to deal with this issue
That incredible, amazing, loving, supportive, cuddly, funny, compassionate man of mine Sam. Yes, he was angry initially not knowing what on earth was going on with me and thinking I’d gone on a bender looking for attention. That thought didn’t last long, he realised pretty quickly there was more to it. Sam was there for me taking me to the GP for emergency help and also joined me for counselling at the Cancer Council.
I will leave you with some bullshit comments that some people felt the need to say (weather to me or someone else)
What on earth did you do to your beautiful hair? It was looking really good! It really was so lovely and curly (my note: it was not curly ok!?) and so pretty. Why would you get rid of that?
My side note on this comment – This comment was made to my face by someone who is an associate, not a friend, not a family member but they felt they had the right and need to tell me that my hair looked terrible. I wonder, how would they feel if someone went to them and told them their recent hair cut looked terrible and why didn’t they just leave their hair as it was?
She is obviously just wanting more attention
My side note on this comment – Um, really? Thanks! I think most people would understand it goes a little deeper than this
Why on earth would she have ‘issues’? Isn’t her cancer finished? What is her problem now?
My side note on this comment – Firstly, cancer doesn’t FINISH. Secondly, unless you have had such a horrible, emotional, physical event such as this, do not assume you know what it is like ‘once the cancer has finished’ as you put it
The comments I LOVED and heard from a few people were
I’m not sure why you cut your hair but I LOVE IT! It really suits you
This comment was awesome because I didn’t have to explain why I cut my hair, I wasn’t made to feel ugly, stupid, crazy or weird.
I don’t meant to overstep any boundaries but I want to ask because I’m worried…. you don’t have cancer again/you haven’t started chemo again have you?
These questions were honest, real, true and there was no other meaning to them other than what was said.
Remember how I told you that my surgeon wants me to lose weight, 7.5 kilos by the 10th of January, 2017? Remember how he told me to ‘just stop drinking alcohol’?
Remember me thinking, AS IF that is going to work.
Well bloody hell.
6 days of no alcohol and I lose 1.2 kilos!! WHAT?
Ok, people MAY have told me previously that this was the way to lose weight but I really enjoy a drink here and there. I am a great dancer and singer when I have had a couple of drinks. I love those little bubbles tickling my nose……
So, to celebrate my weight loss, I attended my niece Tarins 18th, niece Kallys 7th and nephew Jordans 10th joint Birthday Party on Saturday night and drank my weight in bubbles!
Right, I’ll get back on that ‘no alcohol’ diet of mine and see what this week brings.
Oh, just one more thing before I go…. I did this at the party 🙂 Annette is my sister and I think she was a little tickled pink with this bottle of wine.
See you next time, when I am even skinnier (and still sober).
Facebook kinda shits me here and there as to how commercial and whatnot it is but, there are times, when I get that ‘Facebook Memory’ as to what I posted a while ago and, this came up today. I remember so clearly this photo being taken and even though my gorgeous daughter was being silly, I still felt an amazing sense of pride for being her Mum. Nine years ago this photo was taken at my cousin Christine’s 40th Birthday party! OMG, that means my cousin Christine is going to be….. 50 oh so soon. Anyhoo, this photo of ‘the kid and I’ is very special to me. It is before I became a Coeliac and before I knew I had stage 3 breast cancer.
So, this was the week for me to meet with my surgeon to discuss the surgery I want/need early next year. The reason I would like this surgery early next year is because
I would like to be done with Breast Cancer
My wedding is in November 2017 and I would like 2 boobs for it
What does it matter? Just give me another boob please!
So, off to Mr Jim Kollias on Wednesday to discuss my upcoming surgery and to have my 6th monthly Breast Cancer check. Actually, from here on in, I am thinking I wont bother with writing breast cancer with capitals. I recall from school that capital letters were for proper words and those of being ‘important’. Well, you know what Oh Serious Breast Cancer? I have demoted you to lower case from now on!
Right, now we have that straight, let me continue…..
Mr Kollias has many names throughout South Australia and most of them good. Don’t get me wrong, I am going to BAG the SHIT out of him in this post but know this, he is the best in the business ok? Anyhoo… this is how it happened….
Into the lovely little office I went, went through the formalities of me looking great and me saying thank you blah blah and, off to the back room I go to rid myself of my tops and bras and sit on the bed to wait…
Now, keep in mind that Mr James Kollias, being the best in the Breast Cancer field in South Australia, keeps you protected, safe and bubble wrapped the entire time you are dealing with breast cancer. He will do everything humanly possible to rid your body of the cancer and make you feel A OK. You only have to do as you are told and he will make everything happen for you.
Once your breast cancer has been cut out, chemotherapied, radiologied, blitzed with drugs and sleep and some more drugs and more surgery, then comes along the true to life, the honest and IN YOUR FACE Mr Kollias.
There are no more warm snugly cuddly hugs of comfort, no more Mr Nice Guy.
He has always told us how it is when it came to my Stage 3 Breast Cancer but, I always felt safe and snuggly within his words. He was the Captain of our Ship. He would ensure everything happened correctly and his way. My only job on this ship was to follow his orders.
And I did feel all safe and snugly and protected and loved. Until NOW.
Now, I am FAT and ROUND!
On Wednesday the 5th of October 2015 (311 Days Since Mr Kollias and I met) I was meeting him again but this time to discuss my Reconstruction Left Breast Surgery.
I am requiring, wanting and possibly even needing a particular surgery called a TRAM Flap. TRAM stands for transverse rectus abdominis, a muscle in your lower abdomen between your waist and your pubic bone. A flap of this skin, fat, and all or part of the underlying rectus abdominus (“6-pack”) muscle are used to reconstruct the breast in a TRAM flap procedure.
While it’s the most popular flap reconstruction procedure, a TRAM flap isn’t for everyone. It’s not a good choice for:
thin women who don’t have enough extra belly tissue
women who already have had multiple abdominal surgeries
women who plan on getting pregnant
women who are concerned about losing strength in their lower abdomen
So, my big belly and myself are thinking, HOOK ME UP BIG BOY, because I am none of the above and more than that, HOOK ME UP TO THOSE SKINNY BITCHES THAT DON’T HAVE ENOUGH EXTRA BELLY TISSUE, I HAVE ENOUGH FOR EVERYBOOOOOODY.
Mr Kollias does not find this helpful OR amusing. Sometimes I wonder how Mr Kollias and I even get along!
Right, back to it….
I am now laying on the medical bed which is not comfortable nor relaxing and Mr Kollias starts the examination. I would have assumed he would have started with Ms Rightie, my lonely breast that stands alone… but no, he starts with my belly. He GRABS a big fist full of the belly area and wibbles and wobbles it up and down as though it isn’t actually attached to me (BUT IT IS) and says,
“Wow, this is very large. YOU are incredibly ROUND’. This is a lot of FAT”.
I kid you not!
I am laying on this bed, with my one amazing but sagging boobie and my big gutses hanging out, feeling oh so vulnerable while he, the amazing Mr K, proceeds to tell me how round and fat I am.
I KNOW I AM FAT FFS!
No, I do not say this out loud.
So, as I lay on that oh so uncomfortable bed, with my gutses hanging out, trying to think of something else, he, Mr Kollias, is grabbing handfulls of flab (yep, that’s my stomach) wibbling and wobbling up and down, still saying the words ROUND and FAT and I CAN’T WORK WITH THIS, I sink deeper and deeper into some daze like meditation.
Ok, I am no fool. I know I am fat. But for f*cks sake. Give me a break! I can’t use the ‘cancer card’ with Mr Kollias because he has been there with me from start til now. He is trying to tell me that
The more fat I have, the more likely I will be to get cancer, especially breast cancer, again
He can not operate on a fat person due to the risks involved
He can not operate on a fat person for a TRANS Flap thingy without putting them ‘at risk’
Right then, after four rounds of him grabbing my gutses, told I am ever so ROUND, and that he can’t operate the way I want without a risk, It is thankfully now time for me to dress and smash his face in.
Ok fine, I didn’t smash his face in but I really wanted too!
Anyhoo, I dressed and went back to his ‘meeting room’ and sat in front of him while he proceeded to tell me that he can not do the surgery I wanted because I was EVER SO ROUND.
Right, he says to me that in order to do the operation the he and I want to have done he wants me to lose 10 kilos by January 10th.
I’m not sure if you remember he wanted me to lose over 20 Kilos previously but I would be dead if I tried to do that so, we are negotiating now like a car buyer v’s a car salesman. Mr Kollias is the Salesman ok?
We go back and forth for a while and agree on a 7.5 Kilo weight loss for him to do the surgery. That means I have to be below 75 kilos by January 10th, 2017.
Oh so easy I hear you say. IT IS NOT EASY I SCREAM BACK AT YOU!
Ok fine, I’ll try to calm down but let me finish with the conversation with the ever so amazing Mr K.
I tell him that I tried to lose weight for him from our previous catch up which resulted in breaking two bones in my ankle.
He says, hmmm, that’s really just an excuse.
I say, well, I am a coealiac and don’t eat any junk food… and he just glares at me.
I then tell him I have lost 2 kilos recently and he says, two kilos is not a weight loss, it is a poo! and then proceeds to blow a raspberry at me!
Then, I tell him I have started taking duromine and he tells me that chemicals are NOT the answer.
Right about now I should be receiving a bloody award for ‘not murdering’ someone.
There are no awards coming my way, no cameras and bunches of flowers or miracle weight loss fairy dust, just Mr K looking at me.
So, I say to the ever so amazing Mr Kollias, “What do you suggest I do?” and his reply, (get ready to inhale a big disgusted gasp”
OMG, is that even legal? Are you aloud to say that to me?
Well, I think yes. BUT, the problem is, now that I am taking this Duromine (appetite suppressant which I think is broken) my meal sizes have reduced, I’m not snacking anywhere near as much as before blah blah blah….. and then I quietly, under my breath, say….. Do you think I should stop drinking alcohol?
Well, doesn’t that open the bloody flood gates?! Out it all comes from the Breast Cancer God of South Australia telling me if I stop drinking today, I’ll lose 3 Kilos in a week and then I’ll lose another 3 kilos in the next three weeks which is almost at my goal weight for the surgery!
He is looking at me like I am some very backward hick born child!
I haven’t even told him how much I drink (Thank Goodness!)
So, There we have it peeps.
As I sit here, looking at my lovely glass of sparkling wine, I know that it is one of the last as I HAVE TO LOSE THIS WEIGHT. Not just for Mr Kollias but for myself to have the surgery I want.
There is an alternative surgery involving using my back fat with expanders and then silicon blah blah but no, that isn’t what I want.
I want the stomach one, where there will be no artificial products in my body.
After all of the chemo and radiation, I am thinking I would like to repair my body with my body.
So, There we have it.
I have been angry, sad, angry again and everything in between since my appointment with Mr James Kollias on Wednesday but, at the end of the day, he is only doing what is best for me.
What really shits me through all of this is, I forgot to tell my amazing and incredible surgeon about the lump I was worried about! Thankfully he had done a thorough examination while I was there of good ol’ rightie and obviously didn’t find anything to be worried about.
Sorry it has been so long since my last post. Thank you for all of the ‘behind the scenes’ messages and in my face messages.
Love to you all. Stick with me. I am doing this ok? I am going to give it my all to lose that darn 7.5 kilos.
A thank you to the Encore Program for taking me in. I am going to fill you all in about this Encore Program from the YWCA soon. Hopefully, work works with me on this one 🙂
I don’t do shout out’s very often do I? I am going to today.
My shout outs are…
Veronica Stanbridge : for listening to me sook and cry and worry about the stupid lump that turned out to be nothing. I know how hard this is for you to relive this horrible disease after your amazing sister Maggie passed away from it. Veronica ‘Amazing’ Stanbridge is in the black 🙂
Mandy Azzam: Yep, I might know when you are not coping with things but you give it back knowing when I am not doing so well. I love that you leave me be until our lunch dates when I let it all out.
Tamara Martin: You always know when I’m having a bad day. Not through my actual voice but through the voice of our emails. Thankyou for knowing when I don’t want to talk but really want to talk. You know me too well.
Everyone in my life means so much to me. Please don’t be displeased to not find your name here but it is Friday night after a huge week at work and, it has been a tough week for me. Everyone who is in my life, with true honesty and love (eg: no backstabbing or bullshit) means so much to me.
Eating Ben & Jerrys Ice Cream at 11am and not having to explain why
Not having to wash, brush, condition, cut or style my hair
Being home with my dogs all day
Sparkling wine is a pre and post chemo medication and no one argues about it
Becoming the neighbourhood nosey posey and keeping an eye on what goes on around here
Having pancakes for breakfast in bed three days in a row at chemo time made by Dr Hands
Meeting people all over the world (via social media) who have handy hints and kind words
Beside medical appointments, no real obligations
Shows the good side of people
My most recent chemo hasn’t been kind to me. I had it on Thursday gone and I thought I was doing ok for a while but come Sunday, I couldn’t leave my bed. I did have a lovely couple of coffees with the neighbour yesterday but have spent most of yesterday and today in bed also.
Thank goodness there is only one more chemo session left.
I am a man who believes romance should never die, movies make for a great night, custom suiting is a must and creating a legacy is one's purpose. A man who holds true to this understands the gentleman's lifestyle.
Setting the world straight by complaining about and making humorous remarks towards our problems while providing solutions we should all live by. Cus' we're just really pissed off about a lot of things.