This is the post I hoped I would never write. Or if I did it would be many years in the future.
The whole journey, story, saga for want of better words around a cancer diagnosis is fraught with worry and the unknown. It's a new language, a new way of life, it's expensive and there are no guarantees.
When you don't have any connection to it you think that treatment happens and then everything is ok. I used to think that even though I had friends who went through. Even though I have friends who have had recurrences. Even though I have friends who lost their battle. Still I was clueless.
When I was diagnosed I thought - bugger (and a lot stronger). However I thought that if I just did what I was told - placed my trust in God and my medical team, lost weight, ate healthily, exercised, rested, endured the treatment, then "Life" would revert back to normal.
Eventually I realised that wasn't going to happen and that I had to get used to a new normal.
And so I have - I have adjusted my expectations, been kinder on myself, asked for more help, given up things and been patient - sometimes LOL. I have stayed positive. I have read up. I have done all that is suggested and listened carefully to everyone who has offered their wisdom and taken the bits that work for me and my family.
I have done all of these things and more even though there were many days that I didn't want to.
I've done it even though many days it was near on impossible to do.
I kept my head and heart firmly on the end.
I did it with the expectation that this would be soon be a distant memory.
If you have been following the story so far you would know that Monday I headed in for staging for radiation - the final part to this journey, story, saga.
What you wouldn't know is that I had to cancel that appointment. Because two weeks before I found another lump.
Same breast different spot same way as last time - something sore.
As I felt it I almost jumped out of bed I was so shocked my heart sank - instantly I knew. But my head told me don't be ridiculous - you are being too cautious you are two weeks out of chemo. It can't be.
Knowing I had my appointment coming I didn't see my surgeon to have it checked.
I went to Sydney with my darling girls and pushed it to the back of my mind, yet every time they said Mumma can we have a .. can we go on... can we try - I said yes. Go for it - we had second desserts, took cruises we couldn't afford, went out for ice cream at 9.30 at night. I said yes every time I would have normally said no.
In my heart I knew what was coming.
Monday I met with my Radiologist Oncologist - she was ready to start staging - I said feel this.
She said - You can't be serious ? Oh that? It's nothing.
I said - It doesn't feel nothing it feels the same.
She said - You are two weeks out of chemo it's nothing.
I said - I said are you sure?
We cancelled staging and she sent me for an ultra sound that afternoon.
She said you will have to show them the spot you think because there is nothing there. Once you know its nothing pop back and we will rebook staging. She ran into my Aunt who is an oncology nurse later that day at another hospital - My aunt quizzed her - She said you are looking after my niece what's the story ? She's fine I can't feel anything but we are checking of course to be sure.
Late that afternoon I met with the Sonographer - we had the same chat - I had met her before. She reassured me it was nothing. She said Tamar the number of people I have had this conversation with don't worry. Where should I look?
She swiped the scan with gel and placed it where I pointed.
Instantly the black mass swirled in front of the screen I gasped and she quickly swung it away from me.
It's not what you think she said.
Really?
She looked carefully checking and rechecking. Finally she said No I think it is fat necrosis - not cancer. Don't worry. I'll just get the Dr and we will have you on your way.
I stopped breathing - I had heard those words before.
He came bustling in - what's happening here - two weeks out of chemo? No chance. It's fat necrosis. I'll put money on it .
Really? Are you sure?
Yes 100% Don't worry. We will do a biopsy to be sure. Come back tomorrow I want a pathologist on site so we can confirm.
Tuesday.
I head back in - a new Dr another sonographer a nurse - the same chat
Nothing to worry about relax they say. I apologise I said I never used to be so nervous- See that ring that's the blood working to get rid of it that's why it's sore. Don't worry.
Really are you sure ?
Yes. I'm so sure I'm not even going to do a biopsy I'm just going to do a fine needle aspiration. There is nothing to worry about. You've had so much chemo nothing can grow in you love.
For the first time I start to believe them.
The conversation continues about inane things the weather, TV, children - we both have twins, hers are smelly 16 year old boys - her words not mine.
I relax.
I have had serious biopsies before - it's all quiet and there is much concentration. That was not the case now. I think to myself this is all going to be ok.
Needle aspiration done tided up and the sonographer ducks out with the pathology.
She's back in a few minutes asking the twin Mumma Dr Radiographer whoever to step out.
I sit waiting - it's quiet. The nurse turns from me and busies herself at the tray and I feel instantly chilled.
Suddenly the room is a bustle of activity, lights turned up and the three of them have bright false smiles. They aren't quite meeting my eyes and then the twin Mumma Dr Radiologist says You know what? Let's just do that biopsy to be sure shall we? Let's do it in two spots.
Tape removed more local injected.
No more promises of it's nothing no more don't worry
I struggled to get home to tell Richard
I know it is - He said wait and see.
Wednesday was spent waiting listening for the phone.
3.30pm the call came - can you just pop in tomorrow to see the Dr at 10.20
and so with heavy hearts Richard and I headed in the next day - like we had the first time - knowing yet still clinging to the it can't be possibly be hope.
I felt so sorry for her - having to tell me. She doesn't usually break the bad news. She's part of the clean up happy team who sends people back to their lives.
She apologised over and over - She said she just really didn't think it was anything.
But it was.
It was even harder to tell my Ma ( Grandma ) this time - she's getting older and just doesn't understand - I'm not sure I do either.
And then telling the girls - they knew I had found the lump and that the testing was happening. We keep them up to speed always. I promised them from the start that I would always tell them the truth even if it was not good. And we have.
We are struggling here at the moment to keep things normal. The worry is like a thick fog around us.
Monday Richard and I head to the Mater for a PET scan to check for metastasis
Tuesday back to my surgeon.
I know and have read of many people who have recurrences and they have got through and are living happy healthy lives.
I have faith I will be one of those.
It's hard being in it right now though. Harder than the first time around. I know what's coming and for the first time I no longer have faith that I just need to do x y and z and I'll be right.
Cancer is an insidious nasty, nasty disease with no distinct lines.
I selfishly wish this was not my life. I hate with a passion the worry it places on those who care for me.
However this is my story right now and I have to live it.
Once again I'm putting the call out for prayers - particularly Monday from 7am - 9.30am I have asked for sedation as I go through the scan process. I am tired of being brave.
Prayers too please again on Tuesday from 9 -10am when we get the results and hear the new plan.
Please also pray for my medical team that they have the wisdom and skill to help me keep fighting.
Thank you for walking with me still and I'm so sorry the finish line just moved further out.
I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. Philippians 4:13