Hmmm ...

I've just had my upbeat disposition given a bit of a knock.

I'd understood this afternoon's appointment was to sort out my radiation treatment, possibly a tattoo or two, a schedule of sorts, that kind of thing.

It turned out that this was actually my first meeting with the Oncology team.

Up until now I've been under the influence of the surgeons.  Not unnaturally they see their role as the main one, the bad bit has been cut out, no trace of any more bad bits, job's a good'un, a bit of a zap and some tablets and all will be well.

Things didn't start well when it took three hours for me to be seen.  They were a doctor short and of course these things happen, but it did make for a very long afternoon.

The charming chap I finally saw had a very thick accent, which meant I had to really concentrate on what he was saying - no bad thing really.

I got a summary of where we were at the moment, (operation, nothing in the nodes taken from my armpit, no history of this disease in my family - we came back to that a couple of times), there is no disease in my body.  But ... but ... this is Oncology, basically they always recommend Chemotherapy as well as Radiotherapy and tablets.

I felt the wind coming out of my sails (if that's an appropriate way to describe it) at every point in this process to date I'd been told Chemo wouldn't be necessary.  I had to piece together for myself that what I was really facing was the different disciplines beliefs about what is best for the patient.  I know it's all coming from a good place, but Chemo was the one thing I really didn't want to experience.

I focused back on what was being said.

The current tests show two markers, the one that's about hormones  is positive (bad - therefore the tablets are a given) the other one is negative, but I got the impression that this group of doctors always know better and would rather make absolutely certain with more chemicals.  (I'm probably being very unfair, his accent was very thick and I probably shouldn't be trying to read a subtext into someone else's discussion).  

In actual fact what is happening now is more tests.

Thank goodness the use of Chemo is subject to cost benefit analysis.  The tests are the gene therapy ones (that to be fair were mentioned as a possibility during the biopsy discussion) and the numbers will fall into one of three groups.  Less that 18, the cost outweighs the possible benefits and the decision is likely to be no.  Over 31 and the benefits outweigh the costs (2% increase in a long-term lack of return of the nasty) so that'll be a yes.  A number in the middle and it gets fuzzy.  So fingers crossed I'll have a low number.  And that I might get a say in what happens?  I sort of doubt that, but I can dream.

They like to do Chemo within two months of the operation so the clock is ticking.  They'll see me again in three weeks when they'll have the results of the gene tests and then the next steps will be decided (and they'll discuss side effects - cheers!)

I left in a bit of a daze and a bit upset - but I've had a chance to think and really I'm where I've always been - there is more to be tested, more results to get and further action to be taken when we know what we've got.  

Onward

It goes so fast!

It's been nagging at me that my last update was a bit miserable - a state that didn't last that long and only occasionally visits for a moment or two.

In fact the whole thing has been so quick I've not really had much chance to dwell, for which I am very grateful.

The latest news is that last week I started back at work (working from home for the first couple of days) and on Wednesday 4th May I went back to the PRU for my update with the surgeon.

It was actually the lovely and very tall Dr Dave I saw (he had assisted - he wasn't sure if I'd remember him and I told him he'd been in his scrubs when we met and of course I remembered - he seemed strangely pleased).  It's all good - which is how he started the meeting - bless him - it's the kindest thing anyone can do in these circumstances - cut to the chase.

smile emoticon

No cells in the lump margins, nothing found in the two lymph nodes taken from my armpit so no need for further operations. Now it's just radiation (as a lump was taken rather than the whole breast they need to sterilise the area to knock out any pre-cancerous cells) and anti-hormone tablets to reduce the risk of anything coming back.

I insisted he look at the girls ... On reflection I'm not sure he'd intended that but hey, they enjoy the attention.  smile emoticonAll looks good, healing well, another six weeks for the bruising to go down ... I do like a target.  I remembered to ask if I could wear deodorant again (I can) and I pointed out the odd things I wanted reassurance about.  His main response was that my joie de vivre demonstrated that I wasn't suffering from sepsis and that I was obviously fine.  He had been telling me about the next stages and that there would be literature from the oncology team - I'd explained I already had a pile of literature from my experiences so far and that actually what we needed was Cliff Notes on how the whole thing works.  Which lead to a fabulous little explanation to his colleague exactly what Cliff Notes are and about his experience of buying some in Foyles before their refit.

I went back into the office on Thursday and had a lovely mixture of greetings and enquiries after my health, along with more minimal 'nice to see you back', which was exactly what I wanted - I wanted to get on with my work.

The weekend just gone was gloriously warm and reminded me that it's easy to do too much without thinking you are - I spent a lot of time sleeping!  I did get in a long walk on Sunday and I'm finally starting to think I might be able to resume my normal sleeping position (on the side that's been operated on).

My radiation 'fitting' meeting is this coming Wednesday and I'll be a little quicker to share what happens this time.