I'm Back and Ready to Zap!

When I arrived at the hospital I was in search of laughter. Changing into my sexy hospital stockings I walked up and down doing a modelling type pose saying to myself this is the latest creation by The big E hospital. To me to beat this bastard I needed to laugh, not dwell, but none of the other patients were in a laughing mood. Finally my oncologist turns up to talk about what she wanted to do and to reassure me all would be fine..

My first stop off point was the ultra sound room to have one wire guided excisions fitted in each breast. I had a wire excision done in 2010 for my last lumpectomy on my right breast, so I was well prepared. To me having small breasts is a blessing when it comes to having these wires being fitted. Then the radiologist had to find the little 3mm area of cancer that was hidden 2cm into my armpit. This small lesion was between my LD recon and the top of my pectoral muscle. It was explained in detail by my oncologist who wanted to see it for herself. She so wanted to surgically remove it but to do so she could destroy blood vessels and nerves supplying the reconstructed breast.

The only choice we had was to wait and see if the chemotherapy would destroy it. If not then the recon would have to be taken apart which my oncologist is so desperate to avoid. In her eye she thinks it is a lymph node and the chemo will flush it out any rebel cancer cells.

Once all had been dissected and discussed between the radiologist and oncologist whilst I lay listening on quietly. I could honestly say this ride I was on will not be easy.

It was not long before I found myself laying on yet another theatre bed whilst people tried to find veins and rig me up the heart monitors etc. I have plenty fat juicy veins that never stay still, but the anaesthetist had come up against another dilemma both left and right breast were being operated on, so he wanted to fit a cannular into my foot. I instantly said but that’s near the bone and it will hurt, so expect some cussing. The anaesthetist tried to reassure me it would be fine, but I am not daft. Rat feet and needles minus pain does not happen. They decided after one attempt with me wincing and gritting my teeth with pain. The anaesthetist would fit that particular cannular once I had been put to sleep. It took two attempts to fit a cannular in the back of my hand, but I soon was in the land of nod...

It took me quite some time to wake from the anaesthetic, but all went well considering. Once wheeled up onto the ward and do the usual eat and drink pass urine etc. I was released to go home at 6.30pm with a bag of pain killers and follow up appointment. With a goodnights sleep I am ready to go.... 

Waking up to my young daughter blast out Cheryl Cole and singing ‘We are, who we are, we are’ and knowing that she has a memory of meeting her in person makes me smile. To me that is the best bit of therapy I could of created. Every time I see a movie I can say well yep she met that person and we can talk about it, not the cancer. Yes I may lose my hair and I will feel I’m going to the pits of hell and back, but I also know it will not just be me affected by the visual side of having cancer.

Read More

Coming Full Circle

I love my work and the sense of accomplishment it brings. It gives me a feeling of self worth on a dark cloudy day. We all get dark days we just have to learn to chase them away. At any point in the day someone can call me and say, Sarah do you think this can be done? Or I have this idea do you think it is possible for you to help? My answer is let me see first and it will be a straight yes or no. I love designing it is in my blood pumping around making me dizzy with excitement. Every image you see on my blog is self taught. No-one has sat down with me and said Sarah this is how you should do this. My brain has been wired into breaking down the info it sees and rearranging it into what I believe it is. I can look at an image and see how it had begun in shapes and pieces and slowly rebuild.

The first thing I ever designed and made myself with no help was a Victorian cobalt blue dress. At that time I was thirteen years old, and my younger sister at the age of seven was doing Victorian day. I had hand stitched every piece together including the zip. We did not have the luxury of the internet then everything was done by reading books. I had an image in front of me and I slowly picked it to bits so my sister would look the part in class. That day she was so happy and I was so pleased that for once I had achieved something on my own.

The only time I achieved an A in class was in woodwork and design, but I was able to pick difficult designs. I remember my woodwork teacher saying Sarah you are the only person in class that picks a difficult design to make, Why? I did not reply, but I secretly smiled to myself because to me it was not difficult. A few months later I took the finished product home to show my dad. His reply was, Sarah the business belongs to your brother. In other words it was a waste of time trying to impress my dad. That to me was my darkest day because I was looking for a place to belong.

Shortly after that I showed an interest in long distance running. They would call me Zola Budd at school because I had no running shoes to speak of and looked like her. So I would run bared foot on track and take great pleasure out of running past my tormentors at secondary school. It was my escape and a dodge card to get to the showers before all the others, so I would not be bullied about my lack of breasts. I loved running, but my parents would not support this choice either. I stopped running/designing and resided to the fact I was going to be stacking shelves rather than something I enjoyed.

Now I am doing what I was supposed to be doing from the start. It is strange how we come full circle back to what gave you that first spark. Even when I do the 'Race for Life' it will have me reminiscing about where it all began.

Read More

Nipple Recon (Cont'd)

Spent two hours at A & E this morning my new nipple is playing the arse. I had a swab taken to make sure there is no infection, but it is really sore. The Doctor said it is just taking a little longer to heal because of my diabetes. My skin has become rather sore/sensitive due to the dressings and my allergy to using anything sticky. Thankfully they said I could stop using the dressings for now and let the air to the wound. I have to return to the Big C hospital so my plastic surgeon can check it over himself tomorrow because he is not in today. I would not be bothered normally, but has you can see by the image my new nipple looks a little miffed.
I popped into Maggie’s for a social coffee and got chatting to another lovely lady. She had breast cancer also and caught it early before it had spread. She was telling me about her nipple recon and the tattoo process. The whole nipple recon was pretty quick without any hiccups for her. She reassured me once I had got past this little glitch I will be smiling at the finished product. It is nice to compare notes with others because you just don’t know, but I am slowly getting there.

On my way home I decide to buy three more maxi summer dresses. After that wonderful gentlemen gave me a surprising compliment he seemed to have given me that kick I needed. Why should I dress down? I maybe forty one coming up, but I’m still as attractive as any other women out there. So I should be able to fluff my plumage and strut my stuff. I just hope the sun starts to shine so I can wear them.

Read More

A Simple Life Without BC

A friend contacted me via my FB page yesterday. One of her friends had passed away of BC and she wanted advice on what to look for. My breast cancer hides the true reality of the disease. There was no chemo or drugs. So visually with my clothes on I was like every other person walking and talking. It was the perfect diagnosis to have with the type of cancer I had so I was told. My treatment was hidden from view beneath clothes and a smile. She could not see my tears, torment or frustration, but with her other friend it could not be hidden. Her cancer had been caught to late it had spread to her stomach infecting major organs. It is sad that she had to experience let alone see the true reality of this dreadful disease. That it took the death of her friend to make her pro active and try to understand. Now I personally can see why pink has become a deadly colour. Whilst it is a bright cheery it is masking something that is sinister.

I reply with how I found my BC that if she wanted one on one advice she was to contact Macmillan cancer support. When advising anyone on cancer I personally prefer referring them to a knowledgeable organisation because even though I have gone through breast cancer there is a lot I still do not know.

On my journey home from dropping Sophia off at school I look into some ones garden. In the garden is a massive dandelion clock. Part of me wants to make a wish and blow its seeds away in hope, but another part of me is reminiscing. Dandelion clocks hold a fairy tale attraction just like a mushroom rings. As a small child I would shout, ‘Don’t step in a mushroom ring a family of fairies live there and its bad luck’. Well maybe at some point I stepped in a mushroom ring without me knowing. I look at this dandelion clock and the urge to wish all the bad would dissolve away is so strong. Yet part of me is mesmerised with its delicacy that I would sooner watch the wind knock it about. As a BC survivor I so wish I could return to a simple life without the worry. As a BC survivor sometimes you cannot stop the fear of what ifs.

Read More

Date With A Plastic Surgeon

21^st September 2009

Saw the plastic surgeon, but I already knew the outcome. To me it was wasted time I just want this over and done with. On my request my husband came with me as support and a second ear. We wait in the corridor for thirty minutes to be seen. Then we are called into a side room to talk to the surgeon.

He gives me a booklet to look at and explains the procedures they can do. He asks me to go behind the curtain to remove my clothes. He calls a nurse to come in the room to observe the examination.

The surgeon looks at the dressing under my arm and checks there is no lymphedema.

“Do you have any pain still?”
"I’m just a little stiff and it throbs.” I reply
Then he examines my breasts, stomach and bottom.
“I am 5’7 in height, 9 stone in weight and a very active diabetic. You and I know there is no fat to take.” I reply smiling at the consultant. Ok I came across a little too direct, but he saw my words were brought about because of nerves and he smiled at me.
“I can see that.” he rubs his chin in deep thought.
I hear Steve moving about on the other side of the curtain. I know exactly what he wants to say, but he remains tight lipped.

Then the plastic surgeon looks at my back and pinches it. I start to think I could do life modelling without a problem. There are so many people prodding and poking. I’m not an exhibitionist, but there is a bigger question I have to think about. Would I be as comfortable with my body after the mastectomy?

I was never known for my breasts just my personality. Could theses people put my breast back and it not look deformed?
I’ve looked at pictures on the internet and some look ok. They were not the same as their original counterpart, but they looked ok.
“I think I would like to do a LD flap.” said the plastic surgeon.

It means removing the muscle from my back to my chest to make a pocket to encase the implant. With a small crescent of skin still attached to the muscle from my back to fill in where the nipple was. It means a nice long scare across my back, but they can hide it under my bra strap. The new breast will have a lovely tear drop shape scare on it where the nipple was.

To me scars are not a problem at all. They are just a talking point when swopping stories. I did say it did not bother me, but he was insistent it had to be under the bra strap. He noted I already had a scar on my back from a previous operation to remove a mole in 1993. The area had become infected and the stitching had burst. Leaving a crevice of a scar on my back which has never bothered me, but my back is not my front. I will not be seeing my back first thing when I wake up.

I look at the plastic surgeon “Thought you might choose that one.” I reply. “There is no fat on my body and you would scare me further if you tried any other procedure.”
“Have you been doing your own research?” the plastic surgeon asked.
“Nope, Just the leaflet that was sent to me via the breast care nurse.”
The surgeon admired my relaxed approach to the upcoming surgery. He noted that I had done a lot of research and understood the complications that could arise.
It was agreed that I was perfectly in proportion and it would leave me distorted if he did any other procedure accept the LD.
“Would you like bigger breasts?” asked the plastic surgeon.
My husband quickly replied in a calm mellow voice “No, My wife is perfect as she is. Just leave her breasts the same size. It is what we both want.” Well direct and to the point I thought. In fact he impressed the surgeon which made me smile, but we had not discussed size.
“We shall try, but you do understand it can never be the same as your original breast. We do try to make it match the other breast in size and shape as best we can.”
I nod my head thinking well it could be worse no breast and prosthesis. I don’t think I could have handled an empty space where once I had my breast.

The discussion is moved onto implants and types.

“We will use a silicone implant, are you ok with my decision?” asks the surgeon. “I know silicone implants have been spoken about a lot in the press, but they are safe. They act more like the real breast unlike other implants.”
Yes I have heard bits in the news about how they can burst and cause issues, but he reassures me that the silicone implants have changed in design now and look more natural. So I agree to the silicone implant once it had all been explained. It is only a small implant thankfully.
The operation is set and he asks if I want to have more time to think about it. I quickly reply. “No, I want it over and done with. I’ve researched it and I do understand ifs' and buts’. I want my life back to normal and to move on from this whole nightmare.”
Which I know is not a realistic view to take because I have to be monitored closely after. They will do this for five years or until they are satisfied. Which then will turn into yearly mammograms only if no issues arise?
The surgeon makes a few notes on a piece of paper in front of him and says,
“Then I shall discuss my plan with Miss S and set a date. Do you have any further questions you would like to ask?”
"No I shall leave the rest to you and Miss S to discuss.”
Both I and my husband thank him for his time.
“Don’t worry your wife is in safe hands.” The surgeon replies to my husband as we leave his office.

Read More