Is There A Choice?

9^th June 2010

Had appointment with my GP this week. We discussed my issues with the hospital I am being treated at. I said I prefer the Big C hospital where I had my mastectomy done. It was explained to me that it goes before a board of GP’s and they decide and the lightly hood of me changing is slim. The other option is to find the name of a breast surgeon that is at the Big C hospital and write a letter explaining why it may help me in my recovery, but I have given it up as a lost cause. So I am stuck with the treatment and aftercare I have got. Yes I am upset and deflated about the whole situation, but what can I do.

I also visited the Maggie centre to relax before my plastic surgeon appointment. Found a book in a book shop before arriving explaining breast cancer and treatments. There is not much I don’t already know, but it is something to read while I drink a coffee.

I end up chatting to a women who has the same cancer consultant as me. I felt awkward when speaking to her.

I honestly can’t explain how I really feel inside. I listen to the forty four year old women speak and the similarities to her story in diagnoses ring out, but she is in a bad situation and her treatment involves intense chemotherapy. That’s when both our stories change and go on different paths. I reassure her saying it will be over soon and you will move on. That was not true, not really because you never move on. Your constantly praying for every appointment to be in the all clear.

Low and behold when I went to my plastic surgeon appointment I was told that my implant is showing signs of being rejected. If it isn’t the cancer it is the fear of rejecting the damn implant. You are told in consultations that the risk factor of you rejecting the implant are possible, but part of you just wants to believe it won’t happen to you. Nine months on and I could end right at the beginning for reconstructive surgery. The plastic surgeon did say they would replace the implant if I am rejecting this one, but what are the odds it could do it again?

Vanity has a price especially in the eye of the beholder.

When returning home I am given a short lecture on how negativity can have an impact on recovery by my husband. Again no cuddle or reassuring words only a cold ice box awaits.

The only person who is having an impact on my recovery is my husband if the truth be known.

What’s wrong am I broadcasting it on Face book where some of his friends can read it?

Well sorry I have a forum of women in a similar situation to mine some with partners that actually want to be there for them. They did not have to ask their partners for support it was automatic. I had to corner Steve and ask can you make it. I hate begging especially to a man. It makes me feel like a nag or an irritant. I will always wait until someone offers at least I know the gesture is genuine.

He moans and groans about a hamstring injury which he inflicted on himself by playing football. Then he asks me to rub the area to ease the pain. My husband shows some interest in my war wound. He will inspect the area say it is healing well, but not once has he said come here let me rub you down. Why do I feel the outsider? Why do I feel the guilty one? Why am I feeling this way?

Little old me is crying inside because the nightmare she is on won’t bloody end, but am I making continue? You would honestly think he would be by my side right this minute comforting me. The fact he let our daughter go to bed at 4pm to make his life easy while I was at the Big C hospital bloody annoys me. What is it with men? They brag what good fathers they are yet they cannot manage to watch a child without letting it sleep. Yes looking after a child is easy if they sleep everyone can see that, but what happened to adult time dohhh!

When I hear his laughter echoing around the house. It honestly well and truly grates on me. His only interest is in his friends and their well fair, not me. That is when I wish I could swop places even for a day just to teach him some compassion at least.

I was suppose to go to the theatre, but I have a dodgy stomach. Most of the costume work is completed just props to finish.

I received a phone call from Willow foundation they are arranging a full day of activities in London for the 29^th July. When they told me what they could arrange I was in tears. Growing up I would always be prepared to be let down. The only happy memory I have of a birthday is when I was five years old and I am not certain that was mine. After that nothing only constant arguing and tears.

But Willow were going to make sure this birthday was something special. I just hope Steve makes the effort to enjoy the day too after all it is his birthday as well. Why do I feel obligated to make sure everyone else is ok? It is my birthday, but I don’t feel it is, not really. For once I am stuck at a junction where I feel I am being torn apart. Friends have told me to forget Steve move on, but you feel that this is your last chance. Damn this cancer and It’s crazy thinking it brings into your life.

The BC nurse rang me back after I left a message yesterday. My tests were clear of any infection or cancer. She is just as confused as me to why my breast is playing the fool. She instructed me to ask my GP to put me on a course of antibiotics to see if that will help. We discussed various other reasons to what it could be in depth. She said I had to only wait two more months and my next mammogram is due. Although she did not want anything nasty to be found.  It may shed some light onto why my ducts are filled with fluid and the pain I keep getting.

We also spoke about the implant and the fact my body maybe rejecting it. Her reply was that it normally takes five years before that happens and this is a bit soon.

These are the last words I would like to hear right this very minute. If I am rejecting the implant early does that leave me in a situation? I just have to put this to the back of my mind and forget what my BC nurse has just said. The facts are I will not know until August/September anyway and things might of settled down by then.