If I can beat cancer then I sure as hell can beat the 30 day abs challenge

Earlier this year my friend Amy did the 30 Day Abs Challenge. I told her she was insane. But then somehow I got in to a conversation about it at work, decided to do it myself, and got a lot of colleagues to join in! (Although as far as I know, the Incredible Charlotte was the only one to finish it! BIG CHEER FOR CHARLOTTE!)

It's not easy....

If I remember right, I got to Day 14. Then I was diagnosed with cancer and forgot all about it. Until now!

I've decided to start again. Surely if I can beat cancer, I can beat the 30 day abs challenge?! In reality it is going to take me more than 30 days to complete because of chemo. But I am absolutely determined to complete it this year.

I was really inspired by the talk I went to on exercise at the Breast Cancer Care Younger Women Together event in Leeds a few weeks ago. Some people give mixed messages about exercise during chemo, before surgery and after surgery, and what you can and can't do. But the exercise and cancer expert there that day reassured me that I can do the exercise I want to do, whenever I can. I left the event with a cold that turned in to a cough, and so I've done no exercise since. But I think I'm ready for it now! I can't wait to get running again too.

Seeing as this blog is a pretty much full disclosure blog, I'm even going to share my photos with you. So here I am, Day 0. No abs, just the excess weight I've put on since I started chemo! (And while I'd like to blame it on the drugs, we'd all know that's a lie.)

Question is, will anyone else join me in the challenge this time? Or is it just the girl on chemo that's hardcore enough for this? ;-)

Update!

I've had a friend sign up already! And I thought in the interests of bigging up those of you that are hard enough to join me, and putting the rest of you to shame, I'd make a list here of my 30 Day Abs Challenge Gang!

Emily J

Dolores C

Helen J

Hannah C

Joanne F

Emma B

Ali B

Dave S

Who else?!



Chemo blues, 'roid rage and anxiety attacks

Reasons to celebrate

Yesterday was Chemo #4. This should have been a day of celebration for at least four reasons:

1. Chemo Day itself is the pits. The four Chemo Days I've had so far make it in to the Top Ten Worst Days of My Life along with the day I was diagnosed, the day my mom died, the day of her funeral, the day of my grandad's funeral... those kinds of days. They really are SHIT. So I should have been celebrating four down and only two to go.

2. I now knew I was having six chemos in total, not eight. This means I am done with the hellish cocktail of chemo poisons known as FEC and was moving on to Tax (Docetaxel). I have really had enough of FEC, and its nausea, destruction of veins, and hair loss. That's not to say Tax is going to be nice. It's likely to be equally shit, but just with different side effects (including bone pains like a bad case of flu and painful finger and toe nails that might even fall off). But you know what they say, a change is as good as a rest and I am more than ready for a change from FEC.

3. You only need to keep the cold cap (Head Freezer) on for a total of 2 hours and 15 minutes on Tax, unlike 3.5 hours on FEC. Can NOT put in to words how much this meant to me.

4. It was a cannula success day. It went in first time, it didn't explode my vein this time, and I didn't faint (bringing my cancer treatment related needle faint rate down to 44%. Yay me!).


"Nobody loves me, everybody hates me, think I'll go and eat worms"

Lots of reasons to be happy, you see? But I got home and found myself in the lowest, bluest mood ever. I felt completely down on myself as a person. I was annoyed at myself for being annoying, and for annoying everyone else. (This despite the fact that everyone has been so nice to me, and it is me that is behind on keeping up with everyone's messages, emails, phone calls, requests to get together etc.) These blues were so powerful that they were completely overwhelming me.

I sent a stress email to a friend about something I was anxious about. I asked "What do you think?". His reply was spot on. "I think you've had a pretty mad couple of days and you should rest. Get over this session, and reassess." My mind had been running as fast as it could along the road of Anxiety, Hypersensitivity and Pointless Self-esteem Attacks. I think this was the moment where I at least managed to stop myself and make my mind stay still for a moment. I realised that, oh yeah, I'd had a pretty full on few days. Monday I was writing my bucket list, convinced that on Tuesday my CT scan results were going to reveal that my cancer had spread and become incurable. Massive low. Tuesday I found out that: my cancer had not spread beyond the one lymph node which was the absolute best news I could have had, my blood levels were fine meaning my chemo would be on time, I would be having six chemos in total meaning no more FEC and finished with chemo by Christmas. Massive high. Wednesday was Chemo Day, and despite the reasons to celebrate, as always it was inevitably a massive low.


'Roid rage

I knew the best thing to do would be to go to bed, and wait and see if tomorrow would be a better day. BUT! I was dosed up on steroids. Sleep wasn't going to be on the cards for a while, even though it's what I really needed. So I headed over to the Younger Breast Cancer Network (YBCN) group on Facebook and announced that I had had my first Tax and was in the lowest, bluest mood ever. Had that ever happened to anyone else? I was blown away by the response, which was a resounding yes! Feeling miserable as hell isn't listed as a common side effect of Tax but it seems to be a common experience. I sparked a big discussion about how people had come away from a Tax blast feeling sad, blue, over sensitive, emotional, anxious and feeling isolated.

I wasn't alone! It's incredible how much better you can feel just from hearing someone else say "me too" and understanding exactly how you feel and what you're going through - because they are going through it too. This is one of the things that makes YBCN so special. On days like the one I had yesterday, when you feel like you're losing your mind and have turned in to a complete idiot, there's nothing like the reassurance that comes from someone else saying "yes that happened to me, you can blame it on the drugs, and it will pass."

In a way, I was glad of the steroids. Instead of going to sleep unhappy, they kept me awake and online and by the time I was tired enough to sleep, I felt much more like my normal self again.

Anyway, here I am. It's a new day and I feel back to my usual self mood wise. It's my last day of being pumped on steroids so I'm going to make the most of the 'roid rage and get myself and my house ready for the upcoming week where I might be too sore and achey to move far from the sofa (I hope not, but I'm still going with prepare for the worst, hope for the best).

To my friends who have read this: thanks for putting up with me!

To anyone who reads this who is going through chemo: If you have inexplicable meltdowns, it's the drugs, it's not you. And if you are under 45 and in the UK with a breast cancer diagnosis, do join the YBCN group on Facebook. On those days where you feel terrible, there's always a big group of superwomen there ready to support you through it.

The result of my CT scan

I had a CT scan to find out whether my cancer had spread elsewhere in my body. I knew I had two small tumours (one around 25mm, and another one close by, around 6mm), and they had also biopsied one of my lymph nodes and found cancer there. The CT scan was to check for any more cancer elsewhere.

I got the result today. No more cancer anywhere else! Those 2 tumours, that one lymph node, and that's it!

So now for the first time I know exactly what I am dealing with:

Grade
Grade 1 which is the most like normal cells, and slowest growing.

Size
T2. My tumours are total around 3cm which puts them in the second smallest out of 4 categories.

Receptors
The tumour is "Her2 negative" which means it isn't aggressive. It is estrogen positive which means it is fuelled by estrogen. This is good news because they know what's making it grow and they can control that for me in future, massively reducing risk of recurrence.

Lymph nodes
Only one affected. Which means that lymph node has been doing it's job of catching the cancer and killing the cells before they can go anywhere else. They've not even made it to the next lymph node. :-)

Stage
So based on size of tumour, and the fact that only one lymph node is involved, this puts me at Stage 2b.

Prognosis
Almost the same chance as anyone else that I get to live a long life. It'll just be with fake boobs and no ovaries.

My Bucket List

What's the best way to mentally and emotionally prepare for the results of a CT scan which you've had to see whether or not your cancer has spread? (Bear in mind that if your cancer has spread, it isn't curable. Your "treatment" will be focussed on giving you as much time with as little pain as possible).

I don't know. I've gone with trying to not think about it. In theory, my cancer shouldn't have spread. The oncologist wasn't even going to give me a CT scan because of the size and grade of my tumour. But I insisted. I know there's cancer in my lymph nodes, which means it could be elsewhere in my body too. No-one thought I had cancer in the first place. The ultrasound was meant to give me peace of mind. Instead it gave me a cancer diagnosis. So it's hard to feel confident that my CT scan results will be good news.

Anyway, there's a good chance I will get the results of my CT scan tomorrow. There's also a chance that they'll show up something which needs further investigation, before it can be ruled out or confirmed as cancer. This is quite common, especially when it's your first ever scan and there's nothing to compare it to. 

So today I'm finding it hard to not think about the CT scan results, and about having secondary, incurable breast cancer. I figured maybe now's a good time to start putting together my Bucket List. It's a work in progress but this is what I've got so far, in no particular order:

See the Perseids from somewhere with Dark Sky (instead of Leicester city centre).

Go on the rides on Brighton Pier.

See the northern lights.

Go in a hot air balloon at sunrise.

Go on a holiday on my own.

Learn to dance a proper dance.

Skinny dip.

Go on a road trip to somewhere cool in one of those little VW campervans.

Oktoberfest in Munich.

Do something to make the world a better place so that I at least know it's all been worth it.

To fringe or not to fringe?

Dammit. It seems my eyebrows are reaching the point where they've had enough. They're still there at the minute, but getting patchy.

I am going to buy all the magic stuff, and watch video tutorials, and practise, practise, practise doing eyebrows. At first it'll be filling in the patches, but I guess soon enough it will be faking them entirely. (Excuse me one moment while I go and scream some profanities about chemo................) 

For the record, same goes for eyelashes. Mine are still clinging on just now but I know it's only a matter of time before I wake up one morning and find them all scattered across my face. And yes, I will make a wish on each one of them, and yes, every wish will be for my eyelashes and eyebrows to grow back immediately. No wait, I will wish for my cancer to piss off and never return - yeah, that's obviously a better use of wishes.

Anyway. I'm lazy, and I'm about as far from "make-up artist" as a girl can get. So I'm considering getting a big fat fringe to cover my forehead and the spaces where my eyebrows should be, for days when I can't be arsed to create my own. (And days where I attempt to create my own and end up looking like I have two slugs crawling across my face).

When I was a kid, I absolutely rocked a fringe, if I do say myself. Look!

 

Looks bloody ace, right?!

However, I also had a fringe for a time while I was a teenager. Not so good. Fortunately, having searched through boxes of old photos, there are only a few of me as a teenager with a fringe in existence. Those that I did find I'm in fancy dress so look even more uncool, but as I have no pride or dignity left, and in the interest of making my point, I will share a couple with you:

Ha!

Anyway, point is, if I get a fringe, it will need to be of the big, thick, no turning back variety. Like what I had as a kid, as opposed to the thin stringy mess of my teenage years. The good news is, unlike when I was a teenager, I won't have to (be able to!) grow the fringe out and go through this phase:

Phew. But getting a fringe cut is going to be risky. If it looks shit, I will have ruined a wig which I spent a small fortune on.

So I have tried experimenting with some hair grips and my wig, to get an idea of what a fringe might look like on me now. (Excuse the face I'm pulling in the first photo haha!)

What do you think? Shall I get a fringe cut in to the wig or not? Honest opinions please.

Police officers show their support for Playboy

I love it when my phone pings and I have a message from my friend Emily. It's usually something funny enough to make me "LOL". Not today. I heard the "Ping!" but this was the message:

"What the actual fuck... Bunnies against breast cancer at Paddington Station. Basically a girl dressed up as a bunny girl holding a collection bucket and having her photo taken with men..."

No LOLs. Just grumpy muttering and swearing to myself as I started looking online to find out exactly what was going on in Paddington Station today. 

I'm 33 years old and I have breast cancer so I feel like I should be unreservedly championing Breast Cancer Awareness Month this October. But to be honest it's been doing my head in. I just don't see how making everything pink and saying it's for "breast cancer awareness" actually helps anyone. And, call me cynical, but I'm pretty sure all those companies selling pink versions of their products and donating "a portion" of the profits to breast cancer charities are making more money for themselves than they are for the charities. Please, don't bother buying that pink spatula because it's marketed as being for "breast cancer awareness". If you want to help, just donate some money directly to a breast cancer charity instead.

Anyway, on a scale of 1 (Minor Irritation) to 10 (Blood Boiling Fury), pink spatulas, pink colanders and pink frying pans register somewhere around a 2.

Police officers posing for photos in Paddington Station with women dressed as Playboy bunnies as part of Playboy Club London's #BunniesInPink for Breast Cancer Awareness Month on the other hand.... this registers much further up on my Scale of Annoyance.



(Images taken from the @PlayboyClubLDN Twitter feed)

I believe these men are British Transport Police. But if I'm wrong and the Metropolitan Police or any other police force would like to claim them as their own, please let me know and I will, of course, make a correction here.

These photos raise a couple of questions for me.

1. What's the real motive behind #BunniesInPink? Is it to raise awareness of breast cancer, raise money for the charity Against Breast Cancer, or promote Playboy Club London?

Although Playboy Club London are saying this is for Breast Cancer Awareness Month, I can't find any awareness raising of anything useful about breast cancer (like signs or symptoms) in amongst all the Bunnies In Pink stuff I've found, so it's not that.

The information on the Playboy Club London website starts by saying "the club will be raising funds for the essential charity Against Breast Cancer." So I guess I should shut up now, because anything that raises money for a breast cancer charity is a good thing, right? Wrong. I am firmly against the objectification of women, under all circumstances, because:

"It is long established that the overwhelming portrayal of women as sex objects in society plays a role in maintaining inequality between women and men. This has been recognised at the international level by the United Nations Convention to Eliminate Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW) which calls on States to take decisive action to tackle objectification – which it links to stereotypes and prejudices based on gender." - Object.

Of course I want charities to have the funding they need to do the important work they do. But I just don't believe that raising money for a charity justifies any activity that objectifies women. There are plenty of ways to fundraise without portraying women as nothing more than sex objects in the process.

In the same way that I think The Sun newspaper used "Page 3 vs Breast Cancer: Check 'em Tuesday" as a pathetic attempt to justify Page 3, I think that Playboy Club London is using a show of #BunniesInPink fundraising in order to promote their own club.

"...our Bunnies will be proudly supporting the fundamental work that Against Breast Cancer do by wearing pink attire for the whole of October. Have your picture taken with our Bunnies and show support for this cause by sharing your photograph with your friends on social media sites."

Seriously, putting a photo of yourself on Facebook with a Playboy Bunny isn't showing support for Against Breast Cancer. It's promoting Playboy.

2. Was it ok for these police officers to pose for photos with women dressed provocatively as pink Playboy bunnies?

Hmmm... no. I'm going to assume that as all three of these police officers are in uniform, they were on duty when these photos were taken. I will assume that they made a donation to Against Breast Cancer in order to have the photos taken, but that doesn't make it ok. They are police officers on duty in Paddington Station, and this isn't how they should be spending their time. They should be focused on what's going on around them, and be accessible and approachable to any members of the public that need help.

Now, to help make my point, let me think of an example of what they could have been doing in Paddington Station other than posing for photos with Playboy bunnies..... hmmmmm.... I know! How about patrolling the station to prevent sexual offences in line with the aims of Project Guardian. I learned this fact from the British Transport Police's own website.

According to the TfL safety and security survey, around 15% of females have experienced unwanted sexual behaviour on the network, with around 90% not reporting it to police.

This is awful, and why Project Guardian is so important. It "focuses on increasing awareness and confidence amongst the public to report unwanted sexual behaviour to the police or members of staff, particularly those offences which are often unreported, such as sexual touching, exposure, outraging public decency, lewd comments, leering and harassment."

I don't know for sure that these are British Transport Police officers - they might be Metropolitan Police - but either way, and regardless of the existence of Project Guardian, it makes no difference. They are police officers. And looking at the photos above actually raises a third question for me.

3. If I had been in Paddington Station today, and was the victim of sexual harassment, and the first police officers I found were these ones busy having their photos taken with Playboy bunnies, would I have felt like I could report it to them and be taken seriously?

No, I don't think so.

And now I realise that as well as annoying me, those photos have left me feeling pretty sad.

A letter to my body

A couple of weeks ago I went to a fantastic two day event organised by Breast Cancer Care for young women with breast cancer. Something that came up was the A letter to my body campaign. I decided to write my own. It's ended up embarrassingly cheesy and cringeworthy but I'll share it here anyway now I've written it. Maybe just have a sick bucket to hand....


Dear body

If I was writing to you a couple of months ago, this would have been a very different letter. I'd be giving you a massive bollocking for letting me down so horrendously. I'd barely noticed you, or acknowledged you until July 18th this year, but everything changed on that day. On July 18th, you made me mad. I was furious. How dare you fail me so completely. How dare you fill me with fear. How dare you ruin my life. I deserved better than you.

Over the last 12 weeks my feelings towards you have changed. You've amazed me. I do notice you now, and I want to acknowledge everything you do for me, and say thank you.

You're being injected with a cocktail of poisons every three weeks. It's targetting the cancer, but at the same time, it is viciously attacking the rest of you. Potential side effects of chemo range from nausea to, well, death. I didn't have any faith in you whatsoever. I wrote off a full 18 weeks of my life, assuming I'd be unable to do anything more than lie around watching mindless crap on the TV while you suffered through the assault of chemo.

I totally underestimated you! It's 7 weeks since that first blast of chemo and you've been continuously repairing any damage caused in such a speedy, no-nonsense way, that there are times I've not been sure that this isn't all just a bad dream. I am so incredibly proud of you. I know when you're having to work hard to do this, and I'm trying to be good at those times and rest so you can get on with it as quickly as possible. Because when you're well, I get to go out and enjoy my life, and appreciate you at your best. Like when you give me that warm, fuzzy feeling in my heart, or that tingly, excited feeling in my stomach, or when my legs ache from a run or my face aches from laughing. I love those feelings, and I wouldn't get them without you.

I know we've got some tough times ahead. But we are tough, and we'll just fight like mad with everything we've got. I know you'll be scarred at the end of this. But it will just be a reminder of a battle that we won. We are a team. We'll get rid of this bullshit cancer, and then have the best life ever.

xx