Nausea and dental blues

Will it never end? Had a bad night. I have been plagued by nausea ever since I started taking Tamoxifen. Last night (or rather early this morning) I woke up at 3am with the most vile bile stuff in my mouth and couldn't go back to sleep for an hour. The nausea has come and gone all day. The weird thing is that while I am nauseated, I am still hungry sometimes. And I am getting that metallic taste in my mouth again that I had during chemotherapy. Oy!

So, a few minutes ago I googled the query "Tamoxifen and nausea" and wouldn't you know, I found a lot of stuff on it and good information from other women. Apparently it's quite usual to have this and it will go away. Somebody suggested it's better to take it at night, the symptoms are not so bad during the day. I was actually toying with the idea all day today. Aren't I smart?

Ok, so that's solved. I also read that a lot of women get depressed with Tamoxifen. Well, hopefully that won't happen. Before the radiation treatments I read that a lot of women get depressed during radiation therapy. It didn't happen to me, so I am not going to worry about that with Tamoxifen. My wonderful Angela is going on holiday for 6 weeks next month, so I can't get depressed anyway. She won't be here to pick up the pieces and it would be just too boring to have to start telling all my woes to a new person.

The worst news of the day is that I have to have two molar teeth removed! Luckily for me the antibiotic is working, so the tooth doesn't hurt. I went to see the dentist anyway and he is very thorough and he wants to see my blood count before he does anything to me with my recent history. That gives me a little respite.

So, tomorrow I am off to see my GP with all my various complaints and.......... life goes on. I think it's beginning to dawn on me that I will never be the same as I was before the big C hit. Not sure how I feel about that, actually.

Pure vanity

Now that my hair has started to grow and the salt and pepper locks make me look quite distingué, if you ask me, I wasn't sure what to do about the wig, which has started to slide off the growing mop. To make a decision, I visited the wig guru, Suzanne. She tightened something and put the thing back on, such that it would not leave my head. Do you wonder? Just look at these two pictures. Which one would you choose? The wig, right? Right! I don't think I am ready to look like Elizabeth Regina just yet. Vanity wins out every time.

Phew! With that problem solved I can now focus on getting down to a more acceptable weight. People tell me it's better to put on the weight than lose it during cancer therapy, but I am not so sure. I had plenty extra to lose to begin with. Hopefully, once I get my balance back, the weight will melt away. On Friday I finally start the Medical Qigong project I've signed on for about three months ago. It's twice a week, and even if that in itself doesn't shift the weight, I plan to walk to the hospital (2km), which will. Also, I am writing a meal diary for the cancer nutritionist, so she can advise me about my eating habits. (No, I am not cutting out the ice cream!)

As to the gum infection, I found an old script for antibiotics and got some, so now it's settling down and I am beginning to feel more human.

If it's not one thing, it's another

Oh what a night! Yesterday I did take the tamoxifen and I felt peculiar in the afternoon, but it probably had nothing to do with it, or my staying up half the night nursing an aching body and inflamed gums.

Today is the 40th anniversary of the 1967 Referendum, which gave power to the Australian Federal Government to amend the Constitution to make Australian Aboriginals full citizens. There are a lot of activities in my area to mark the occasion and yesterday Sue and I went to an Indigenous Carnivale at the University of Sydney, which is close to my house.

It was advertised for 3pm, but we were only allowed in at 3:30pm. They seem to have been working on either Hungarian, Jewish, Nigerian or Ethiopian time, but definitely not Anglo- time. When we were finally allowed to enter the main gate, we were stopped, because the kids at the door forgot to get the pre-paid list. Ah well, this gave us a chance to talk with two of the performers who were also stopped 'for security reasons'. One was a Navajo woman from New Mexico and the other a Samoan, Maori singer, whose orange poncho caught my eye (I was wearing a red poncho myself!).

It turned out that the two women are the singing group "Indigie Femme". I was getting tired, but we decided to stay and listen to them and then scram. They said they'd sing a song for me. It reminded me of when I used to drag my mother to jazz clubs and all the musicians crowded around her and played for her. Well, we stayed until about 6pm, but their act was pushed back to 7pm and I had to leave I was so tired.

By the time I got home, my gums were aflame and my nose was a river of snot, my joints ached and I was a miserable little chappie in general. I had a cold and an infected tooth. Gimme a break!

I had the worst night for a very long time. I think I finally fell asleep around 4am. Now that the poison from the chemotherapy is leaving my poor body, the bacteria and viruses (which were also killed, by the way, noot just those naughty cancer cells) have found safe haven and are playing hide and seek in every nook and cranny. Well, that's why God created garlic, right? OK, I am off to swallow garlic, blow my nose and get back to bed. Ah, but it's sunny and gorgeous outside! Maybe later..............

Bumpy road

It's been an interesting week. It kind of flew by in a flash. Every day my energy level has been improving in the morning, but by 1pm I am usually bushed and the rest of the day is kind of foggy, mostly spent sleeping, watching TV and doing the cross-stitch or forcing myself to finish whatever was not done in the morning.

I've just finished cleaning the aquarium, which should have been done more than a week ago. Poor fish. I just realised that the heater was not on, because I disconnected it for the summer. I completely forgot about it now that the weather is getting colder. No wonder two fish died and the snails looked unhappy! Maybe they were in a sympathetic fog with me, although I doubt it, because since the heat is on they've started to move.

Yes, I like snails. They are graceful creatures with big appetites for plants. Some people meditate on their navels, I meditate on the snails chugging down the purple waffle.

On a more mondane level, I discussed the reality of the cancer with the counsellor and got back my equilibrium. The following day I discussed the side effects of Tamoxifen with my GP, but still haven't been brave enough to start it. I'll pop one as soon as I finished this blog entry - I promised myself.

I don't know what is with change, but I notice that any time something new comes up, I make a big deal out of it. Of course everyone says it's normal, but hey, I am tired of worrying about what comes next. I don't think I was such a worrywart before!

New chapter

This morning I went to see the Professor and this whole cancer thing has moved into a new phase. I am going to start a 2 year stint with the hormone therapy drug Tamoxifen, followed by 3 years of aromatase therapy. A new worry. As I've mentioned before, I seem to have unusual reactions to most medications, so it's always a worry when I am faced with a new one. This is no exception.

During this visit to the clinic I met a couple of women with whom I've crossed paths before, and they told me to do a good internet search to learn about side-effects, because 'here they don't tell you anything'. When I got home, I dutifullly started to research, but stopped after a few pages, because I realised that knowledge is not always a good thing.

Today (shock horror!) I hit the 100kg mark when I stepped on the scales and I really didn't want to know that one can put on weight with Tamoxifen. That little nugget really turned me off any further research. I have a plan in place to lose the pounds, so I don't want to have in the back of my mind that it may not be possible. I feel like a stuffed goose anyway, so I don't think I could bear one more extra ounce on me.

The Prof thinks my burned-to-cinder breast will be recovered enough to go swimming in a week or two, and hopefully my feet will decide to behave as well, so I can soon put my walking shoes on and start walking some serious distances. I've actually overcome that problem somewhat by getting a pair of crocks, which are very large, open shoes that don't hurt the feet. Sort of a closed Scholls flip-flop. Unfortunately they don't take orthotics, so they are only good as interim solution.

The feeling that I have done all this on trust continues, so I made arrangements to see Angela next week. In the meantime, I focus on other things.

I just heard a really great talk by Malcolm Gladwell on the New Yorker website about prodiges and late bloomers in art and literature, and I got a real kick out of recognising that I am a late bloomer. There's hope for me yet! And this was confirmed by (prayer circle) Lucy, who introduced me to someone by email as: '.....one of the most creative writers, thinkers, social activists I know.....'

Wow, shucks Lucy...........(says she blushing and speechless at last)............

Feelings

It's strange how some photographs capture exactly how you feel. When I saw this one of the gnat catcher, I saw the incredible balance the bird must have to stay on that narrow twig. At first glance he seemed to be quite cocky about it, yet, on closer inspection he looked kind of lost, as if searching to see if anyone would come to share his perch. That's pretty much how I feel right now: a little lost, yet centred in what I want to do after this nightmare is over.

And then there's this photo of the humming birds.
Throughout this ordeal I have been wishing that my mother was here to take care of me. I guess one misses one's parents until the last breath. Sometimes during this cancer adventure one becomes completely vulnerable, and it's difficult to be strong. After all, the very strong also have weak moments. I don't feel very strong, even though everyone around me keeps telling me that I am that.

Looking at this photograph I am reminded of the love and care I have received from my parents in the past and now from my friends, and am pretty convinced that that is what got me through this experience as well as it has, and will continue to sustain me in whatever I still have to face in the future.

These amazing photographs were taken by science writer Paul Muhlrad and I've put up a link to his series so you can enjoy them all.

Another milestone

It's over! The radiation treatment, that is. As soon as the machine stopped, I burst into tears. I am not sure whether it was tears of joy that the harsh treatment is over, or tears of fear that something else may be now on the horizon. I hope it was the former.

I feel empty. Strangely flat. My breast is dark brown, with large pink blotches where the skin has already peeled off, confirming that life goes on. I have decided to spend the next couple of days making sure that the healing will continue without a hitch. That means more time at home, but luckily I have a lot to do, rewriting the short story I want to submit to a short story competition and trying to flog my screenplay to Hollywood again. OK, so I am a dreamer, but hey, that's better than worrying about the likelyhood of this cancer coming back.

And that is a possibility. I just read about a new study, according to which sometimes it is precisely the treatment protocol I just went through that causes the cancer to come back. No, don't ask ...

I have pretty much decided to take matters into my own hands as soon as the breast has healed and lose all those pounds I've put on in the last seven months, keep eating well, and do a lot of exercise with the Chinese dragon boat racing I said I would join.

So, the plan is in place to get back to health and stay that way. The weird thing is that I still can't think of myself as having been 'sick', as I never had any symptoms of breast cancer. I know that's why they call cancer the 'silent killer', but knowing and 'knowing' seem to be two entirely different things. It is totally crazy, but I feel like I've gone through these last seven-eight months taking on 'faith' that I had cancer.

Well, I guess I'll leave it at that. No use worrying over that now. It's over. Phew! Baruch Hashem! Thank G-d!

Almost there

I had three days of relaxation from the big machine. Actually, it's an amazing piece of equipment, so I took some pictures.

Here are two members of the 'frying team'. As you can see, the machine body is at an angle. It is an X-ray machine, a 'Varian accelerator', which can actually rotate 360 degrees around the bed.
The attachment that Chris is hanging onto is the frame for getting that extra juice to the area where the tumour was taken from. And this is what it looks like in action (on the right). For the full breast radiation the attachment is removed.




I decided that since the roast is almost done, I can have a quick go at the machine, it's not going to retaliate. I know, this looks like a fake, but the picture of the actual battle was blurred, so this will have to do.

Kidding aside, I am becoming boob fixated, as I have to really look after the roasted appendage and make sure that it doesn't peel too badly. It started to, but I am determined to keep that to a minimum.

I've created a 'boob sling' from my scarves to keep the dressings in place, since wearing a bra is unbearable and the body sock they gave me at the hospital is too tight. I can't wear it outside the house, but what the heck. I can bear being housebound for a bit, it forces me to do my writing.

I am polishing a short story to send off to a competition. So far the reaction to it is positive. Had some good, constructive feedback from friends who know about these things. Keeps my mind off the itching and bruised boob and the uncertainty of what's next.

Always something new

So, the full breast radiation is over and just four more days of short bursts of 'top up' for the area of the tumour. You'd think that would be it, but I fear not.

Had a bad night yesterday. My joke about being fried to crackling turns out to be no joke at all. My whole right breast is the colour of dark chocholate, as is a large area under the armpit and a small 'hickie' on my neck. It hasn't peeled yet, and hopefully it won't because of the treatment I give it, but last night it was really burning and actually started to hurt. I have great admiration for all burn victims.

In any case, I am constantly confronted by the good, bad and stupid in modern medicine. Yesterday was the stupid's turn. A new nurse was helping me with the dressing. She looks at me and takes pity and tells me there's a fabulous hydrocortisone cream she can give me to make me more comfortable. I immediately tell her that I can't have that, because I have an adrenal problem.

A tug of 'take it, no I can't' ensues, until I get bored and take the bloody things (two versions - cream and ointment).

At home, I look up the side effects of the medication and sure enough, it shouldn't be used on large surfaces (I don't think my breast can be described as small, even in its truncated form) and it can affect adrenal function. I wish people would listen to me! Now I have to remember to take it back (we have socialised medicine, after all).

This morning I woke to the sound of the jackhammer the builders were using next door. My neighbour is rebuilding his house. The noise stopped for now, hopefully I can just spend the day wallowing in my misery. The only good thing is that the radiation machine (whatever it's called besides Botanical Gardens) is being serviced today, so I get three days rest from the frier. All I can think of is next Thursday, when it's all over - for now, that is. (I hope)

Almost there

Today is a milestone of sorts, the last day of full breast radiation. Just as well. That poor boob is well and truly roasted, but, thanks to all the melanin in my normal skin (I think) and careful soaking in the appropriate creams (most probably), the skin has held, even though it is mostly the colour of roasted coffee beans. I know, sunlovers in Europe would kill for suntan like that, but I would not recommend this way of doing it!

How do I feel? Elated, when I am not tired. At this moment I am very tired and will go and veg out in front of the telly after I finished this blog. In general, however, I feel.... actually I feel thankful that I've gone through this experience with the support I had and not being too depressed about the whole thing. It's amazing really, but I just feel like getting back into life and forgetting about the whole thing.

Well, I don't think I can forget about it, because I don't think I'll ever be able to sunbathe, or wim outdoors without full body cover and I won't be able to carry things with my right arm, so I'll have permanent reminders of what has been, but like I said to someone today, I won't be brooding about the cancer coming back, or things like that. I just want to get back into life and live it.

And, by the way, after I see the Prof at the end of this month, I think I'll close this blog. Let me know if you still want me to continue. I'll think about it. Now, where's that remote control?