Tag Archives: breast cancer

Stormy Skies

10 Apr

It’s one of those stormy and unpredictable nights on the Gold Coast, eerie almost.  Perhaps a reflection of my life at the moment as I consider that just as quickly as they roll in, storms fizzle out.  Maybe the thunder and lightning are even Mother Nature’s way of reminding me that powerful, violent fury can and does end, often leaving a beautiful, fresh glow.

I do hope that’s the case with my current situation.

I must point out that I’m not caught up in a terrible bind, I’m just playing with words.  However I do feel like I’ve been at the centre of my own ‘storm’ for a while now and quite frankly, I’d like it to pass.

In trying to bring about an end to a sort of stalemate with my marriage, I’ve decided to collect my two gorgeous girls and take up a room at my Mum’s place (okay – a room & bathroom + parts of her sewing room, kitchen, living, outside area….)  Paul will move elsewhere and we will rent out the apartment for the time being.

Those of you who know me know how ‘house proud’ I am.  More than that though, I truly adore living in this apartment. It’s in a great area, safe, quiet, in an amazing building, with brilliant design.  It’s also a tad luxurious.  This place is special for other reasons too.  I think of it as kind of like an elegant NYC Brownstone – but white!  The entry is through a glamorous lobby and we were lucky enough to secure one of the terrace apartments on the ground floor – so not only is there plenty of room for the girls, but there’s also direct street access.  I can walk across the road to acres of parkland, the riverfront and the ‘magical tree’ I’m so drawn to, or pop over to the banks of the private lake.  I also have a few neighbours I count as friends, who have become a big part of my life.  It’s stunning in design, yet understated in its feel.  The kitchen is just perfect for entertaining (which again, if you know me – you’ll know I love nothing more than having a house full of people to feed and clink glasses with), the bathrooms are fully tiled with beautiful travertine and I’ve decorated accordingly – continuing the earthiness with timber, leather and steel.  We’ve added a really nice black granite circle of life water feature and the timber arbour is playing host to a very healthy wisteria.  I am yet to see it flower in full bloom.

Elegant.  Sophisticated.  Home.

For the eight and-a-half months I was in Brisbane last year, I dreamed about this place. Every single day I willed myself stronger so I could return home.  I can ‘make home’ anywhere, really.  But this little apartment, well, it just feels good.  I love everything about it.  It’s the only home little Phoenix has known, where Lila loves to bail up the delivery guys and where my darling Ch’i took her final breath.

As much as I love this place, I’m not too naive to pin all my hopes on returning. I of course hope I will, but as we all know – a lot can happen in a short space of time.  We’ll just have to wait and see.

There’s heartache and disbelief to deal with first.  The reality has certainly been overwhelming these last few days, as I’ve moved some things to Mum’s, sold others and sent the rest to storage.

The emotions are running high.  It’s devastating to be honest – but I need to try and keep everything in check.  Seriously, the drama of three lots of cancer plus a bone marrow transplant isn’t enough? The destruction of my career, my marriage…and now this.  I’ve had a gut full to be honest.  What I could really do with is a break! This period I am certain, is meant to be THE most amazing, happy time of my life – as I should be celebrating the fact that I HAVE A LIFE! Courtesy of a lot of hard work by a great many people and of course, the generosity of my incredible donor. Instead, there’s more major upheaval as Paul leaves and blames the ‘cancer bubble’.

Well, fuck you cancer.  I don’t need to be around those who can’t deal with you.

Fuck you cancer, I am a grateful soul.

FUCK you cancer, I wake up happy.

 

Back in Black

5 Apr

Not in an Amy Winehouse kinda way..

But….Congratulations dear Donor, Dr’s and nurses – the numbers are good.

For the first time in over two years, my pathology report is not red line after red line.  My all important counts have recovered to the point that I’m in the ‘normal’ or ‘safe’ range for most readings.  This is a huge improvement and actually came as quite a shock because I’d been feeling so dreadful in the lead-up to today.

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Although I didn’t get to see Dr Kennedy today – I’m certain he would have used the words becoming ‘stable’ to describe these latest results.  Nurse Kylie and I think so anyway!

5 C

30 May

I could write a book on this experience (and one day I just might), for now – I’m exhausted, but needing to try and ‘collate’ the four and-a-half months I’ve had in Ward 5C getting ready for and having my unrelated anonymous donor Bone Marrow Transplant.

The chemotherapy regime I’ve been on this time in preparation for transplant is FLAG: FLudarabine, High-dose Cytarabine (Ara-C) and Granulocyte colony-stimulating factor (G-CSF).

There’s been some horrible experiences and some hilarious.

I’ve had fluid on my lungs, pneumonia, and felt like I was drowning in my own body.  I’ve needed breathing assistance, suffered the humiliation of incontinence and worn an adult nappy.  I was moved to ‘Room 1’ which is pretty much the last stop before people check out – permanently.  Those nights the ICU Doctors came to see me.  I didn’t want to be moved to ICU, I felt safe in 5C, they were experts at looking after transplant patients.  It was certainly a challenging time.

There have been no less than five occasions where one of my treating team has stood at the side of my bed and delicately explained that I ‘might not make it through the next 24-hours’, so if I needed to say anything important, now was the time to have those conversations.  Thankfully, I’d prepared Mum and Paul for this likelihood and they were comfortably aware of my ‘final wishes’.

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Some of the drugs made me hallucinate. I was watching lavender grow from the ceiling and seeing faces in the bare white painted walls. I was talking to people who weren’t there. I was texting Mum saying I know she’s in the corridor outside taking about me and to just get her gown and mask on and come in.  Mum was at work – on the Gold Coast!

Who knows what I was saying to the Drs and nurses during this time.

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I did have a bit of respite a couple of times, staying in a unit nearby where I got to sleep uninterrupted (no obs or beeping machines), and eat what I wanted – which unlinke my pre-chemo diet was really unhealthy – chips, pre-prepared frozen meals etc.

Before too long though I was headed back to hospital.  A few times I woke in the early hours with spontaneous vomiting and a dangerously high fever.  Going through the Emergency Department was necessary – but so exhausting.  They had to take blood from my line, as well as two peripheral sites which means more needle sticks.  I’m trying to avoid any unecessary processes on my arms, as I’ve had lymph nodes removed from both sides as part of my breast cancer treatment and am therefore at greater risk of developing lymphodema – an irreversible, painful swelling of the arm.  So, I have my blood pressure taken on my leg and try to avoid those extra needle sticks when I can.

Not a fan of confrontation, I struggled with some of the side effects of certain medication.  Some made me quite agitated and I found myself fighting with people. Most of the time I caught myself and was able to stop, but there was one particularly awful exchange with my beautiful nurse Lettie.  We’re friends now, but when she found me crawling on the floor looking under the bed for my little dogs Ch’i and Lila things turned ugly very quickly.  I was crazy out of my mind on Ketamine (I can not believe people take this as a ‘party drug’!) and didn’t like her telling me to go back to bed, that she’d spoken to Paul and the girls were okay.  It was a little white lie that didn’t work.  I got right up in her face and told her as much.  Paul almost got a phone call at 3am!  It took the amazing Pete to resolve the impasse.  Boy was I pissed though.

Then there was the ‘incident’ with my central line.  Again, I blame the drugs.  I’m convinced I tried to get out of bed to go to the loo and tripped over the pole, accidentally getting caught up in all the tubes and dislodging the central line as I fell to the floor.  Others argue I ripped it out of my neck/chest, then as I bled, tried to stem the flow and clean myself up by using rolls of paper towel!  I honestly do not know.  What I do know is my nurse Tash yelled quite loudly as she entered the room ‘ Kate! it’s a fucking blood bath in here!!’.  It was, not only was I bleeding a lot (especially with extremely low platelets), I’d also snapped the food line, so there was stinky, sticky white glue-like fluid mixed in with the blood all over the floor.  There was so much it had spread through to the bathroom and when Tash and another nurse Ness started the clean-up we could hear their shoes squelching through the mess!  After making sure I was okay, Tash sat me on the end of the bed and told me not to move.  She tells the story much better.  This one will go down in history.  Dr Katherine came to remove part of the line still hanging from my chest.  I had surgery the following day to insert another line.

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Breaking down

Sweets Syndrome, Mucositis and central line yanked, then properly removed.

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Some of the complications I’ve experienced include CMV, Sweets Syndrome, Graft Versus Host Disease (GVHD) of my skin and gut and cataract.  More detail on them some other time.  Namaste.

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Food, wine and good times..

20 Oct

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 I’ve just had the most amazing few days in Melbourne with two of my dearest family friends, Lina and Ian and their boys Charlie and Josh.

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Although I was physically running on empty – this was my last hit out/trip away before treatment.  We shared some beautiful time together talking about life and enjoying the most fabulous food and wine.

My cousin-in-law/friend/creative collaborator Jodie arrived so we could attend the Jean Paul Gaultier exhibition, which just completely satisfied every element of creative design, garment construction and was just all ’round extraordinary!

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We were on cloud nine and although had paid to go to a formal ‘Q&A’ with the man himself (which was nice enough), we busted our way into a VIP event and were treated to second row seats, a more candid designer and many laughs. It topped off a truly wonderful experience.

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Paul arrived and Lina and Ian’s amazing hospitality continued for us and Jodie – gourmet delicacies, spectacular wine and seriously great conversations.  We talked about our journalism and news histories as well as personal/family memories – not only has Lina known me since I was born – she was one of the first people to hold me as a baby.  We also touched on what’s happened health-wise since we last spent time together, almost in disbelief.

I was caught off guard at airport when tears came from nowhere – my love and gratitude for friends such as Lina and Ian was completely overwhelming.  As was the realisiation that this may be the last time like this.

On the flight home, I was seated at the opposite end of the plane from Paul.  I found myself next to a fascinating man – who just turned out to be an Orthopaedic Surgeon (along with fellow JPG exhibition atendee and fine furniture/interior design lover), so we had great energetic conversation about being in isolation, the power of the mind, yoga and meditation, music, keeping connected, all of that.  Despite having asked to be seated next to Paul if it was possible, I really enjoyed this connection with Dr Steve and was very happy chatting with this new friend.  I was in the middle seat and at some stage mentioned Pink Polar and the man sitting to my other side happened to be a vet and also knew all about Geoff and the Boobsled crossing Antarctica.  We shared lots of laughs between the three of us.  It was the quickest flight home courtesy of this cool seating arrangement!

Spending time just savouring the friends, family and being open to new acquaintances in my life – courtesy of this hand, is a positive I hadn’t predicted.  Although not pleased about the difficult weeks and months ahead I have to face this reality.  No escape is what reinforces the meaning of ‘reality’.

Life is all about ‘climbing the highest peaks and navigating the deepest valleys…’

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ROLLER COASTER OF THIS REALITY

12 Aug

So I’m back on the roller coaster of fortnightly monitoring through blood tests. I’m gaining a whole new education as I learn about blood cancer and the definitive factors which will impact upon my care – the importance of numbers of red blood cells, white blood cells, platelets etc.

Through how I was feeling physically, the fatigue, the shortness of breath, the extreme bruising plus this new understanding of regular blood tests – I could tell things were sliding and quickly.

My last appointment with Dr Kennedy backed this up.  I’d shown a marked decline in the last 2.5 months of records and he felt we should be aiming for transplant prior to Christmas. WHOAH…….. This was a shock for my family and I.  It appears I was a whole lot sicker than any of us realised.

He indicated if there was anything I desperately wanted to do, that it was a good idea to do it now, as it’d be a while before I was well enough. My first question was to ask if we could wait until after Christmas as my little brother David was getting married and it would be odd for the family if I wasn’t there.  The answer was ‘on this current trajectory Kate, you probably can’t hold on’.

Next – I asked if I could squeese a trip to New York in, in between my fortnightly bloods.  The answer was an emphatic yes!  So long as I went soon. Dr K said it was the best medical advice he could give and that I should experience the Empire State building at night.

TESTING TIMES

8 Jun

As I picked Paul up from work he could see the familiar ‘I’m pretty sure I’m right about this’ look on my face.

We went to a little bar close to home so I could have a good gulp of wine before telling him.  I had the book about MDS and the prospect of a Bone Marrow Transplant as being the only real ‘cure’.  As we entered the bar – the music that came on was Imagine Dragons – ‘Radiation’, then in one of those ‘You gotta be kidding me!’ moments, I looked down at the menu to see SMOKED BONE MARROW on offer!

The test was booked for Wed 4 June, Paul’s Birthday.  It was to be done at the hospital he works at.  Bad timing.

I don’t remember too much and was a zombie the following day.  Less than 48 hrs later I got a call confirming I had MDS.

Good thing that test happened when it did, as this disease has progressed a lot more quickly than expected.

BOOK THE TEST!

12 May

I never really felt like I ‘got over’ the last breast cancer (or the first one for that matter).  I was constantly beyond tired, to the point of fatigue and sick of hearing people say ‘ohh you’ve been through so much’….yeah, yeah.  I knew something wasn’t right.  About a year ago I was wrapping up work on the Pink Polar Expedition (of which I’ll be forever proud of my mate Dr Geoff Wislon and my involvement – plenty on that elsewhere), but as well as burning the candle at both ends, I noticed I was coming up in these ugly bruises all over my torso and legs.  They were dark and appearing spontaneously – that is not impact bruises.  They were almost uniform at times and quite frankly looked like someone had come at me with a hammer.

After a couple of mentions to my GP and Oncologist, more in depth testing – the only thing that showed as being slightly abnormal was my MCV – or Mean Cell Volume.  Gut feel was screaming ‘something’s up Kate – keep pushing!!’….So while I asked for a referral to a Haematologist, no-one was quite expecting what came next.

I must admit to having a rather awkward first consultation with this Dr.  In his eyes – I was a recovering BC patient, with a marginal increase in the size of my red blood cells ‘almost not worth mentioning’.  I had been told by my Oncologist and had read about the chance that some of the BC treatment I’d had could lead to Leukaemia.  This Dr almost flinched at the mention of the word and told me I was getting ahead of myself.  He also suggested it could be something called Myelo Dysplastic Syndrome (a ‘pre-leukaemia’), when I asked for some reading material he reluctantly handed it over.  The only definitive way to diagnose was to do a Bone Marrow Biopsy – which we almost argued about.  To me – it’s just another test.  To him – it was putting a hole in my back and skeleton and perhaps performing an unnecessary procedure.  He was going on 5 weeks holiday and could keep an eye on me with blood tests and maybe do it when he got back.  THEN he dropped the ‘if it was my wife, would I be doing this?  No…..absolutely not.  It’s such a small change and you’re otherwise well’.  But I KNEW I wasn’t.  So I put on my imaginary boxing gloves, leaned forward and said ‘with respect Dr, I would hope your wife is not 36 years old with the cancer history I have.  Please book the test!’

I’m feeling….?

28 Jun

Okay, so I have worked in the ‘traditional’ media for the bulk of my adult life.

Earlier tonight I posted an update on social media – Instagram/Twitter/Facebook (InstaTwitFace:-) regarding the next surgery….

The amount of ‘likes/shares’ have made me sit up straight…Seriously?!

I’m pretty pleased to be at this point!!

Thank you………..KCx

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Link

Tamoxifen…..

21 Jun

Another bit of ‘not so light’ reading on Tamoxifen.  Although there’s a bit in here, there’s a lot that’s not.

I’ve written about it before.

I’m still not used to this drug. Don’t know that I ever will be.

http://www.webmd.com/breast-cancer/tamoxifen-for-breast-cancer-treatment-and-prevention?ecd=wnl_brc_061113&ctr=wnl-brc-061113_ld-stry_1&mb=

 

 

So excited I’ve got SHIVERS!

22 Nov

What a week it’s been!

I’ve seen a Rheumatologist to try and get on top of this bone pain.  Cortisone injections, and all manner of other medications….Exhausted just thinking about when to take what.  I guess that’s just part of my life now.

I also caught up with a good friend who’s a journalist.  Happy to say she was enthralled with the whole concept of ‘Pink Polar’.  Knows a good story alright!

Then, a call to my dear friend at the McGrath Foundation, explaining the intention behind the Expedition. It was so wonderful to be so warmly received.  There are some incredibly special people working in this field and this lady is one of them:-)

Paul and I shared a truly memorable dinner with Geoff, his wife Sarah and children Jade, Java and Kitale.  What an amazing family!  I know I’ll write more on them in the future, but for now – my head and heart are full as a result of our time together.

A networking breakfast provided more inspiration from Steve ‘Ando’ Anderson (three-time Olympic Beach Volleyball Coach, Olympic Gold and Bronze Medal Coach) – who encouraged us all to ‘be deliberate’.  So, deliberate I was in telling him (and anyone else who’d care to listen) about this amazing project!!

The next buzz came from the McGrath Foundation – confirming interest in what we have proposed.  That’s a good thing!!  ’cause I know there are some organisations which would run a million miles from the ‘potential controversy’ a project like this could bring.  Surely they also realise our intention is good, that there are two dedicated souls involved and that my cancer experience could be used to assist in continuing Jane’s legacy (my goodness I feel presumptuous even thinking that let alone writing it – but I hope you understand what I mean).

Top off this week with a visit from Mr Hickson. Two old ‘media tarts’ (to borrow a phrase from former Qld Premier Peter Beattie [or Peety Betta as I once accidentally called him on air!]) having a good old fashioned catch up on the world.

Tired?  Yep.  Inspired? Yep. Determined? You have to ask?!!!

+ another 3 = 8

29 Feb
No, I never thought I’d be writing about the 6th, 7th and 8th operation on my ‘breasts’ (& ovaries…).  Here I am.
Thankfully – it’s all happening very quickly this time around.
As I get ready to start six rounds of FEC chemotherapy and then six weeks of radiotherapy, here’s a re-cap of some of what’s happened since I saw Dr D, January 17th (just six weeks ago.)

Operation # 7

1 Feb

The trauma of having a Sentinel Node Biopsy (for the first time) will never leave me.  I congratulated myself for having made it through that dreadful experience by reassuring myself that I would never have to experience the procedure again.

WRONG!

Same hospital, same doctor, same nurse, same bloody room……..same feelings of utter dread, disbelief and indescribable, unbelievably excruciating pain.

I politely asked if Paul could be in the room with me.  When the answer came back as being ‘no, for everyone’s safety…..’ blah, blah.  I turned into a pain in the arse patient, firmly, defiantly demanding his presence.

To further complicate things, they also had to perform a ‘hook wire’ procedure, where they use ultrasound to guide a wire directly into the tumour, so it’s easy for the surgeon to identify in theatre.

I sobbed so hard, taking a breath in hurt.

Some things are similar this time around, but the gravity of the situation is different.

I left the rooms where the procedures were done and gingerly headed for the room I would stay in after surgery.  I was met by two of the key figures in the recovery from my previous surgeries.  Nurses Margaret and Andy (Andrea) both told me they didn’t know what to say.

I was just happy to see their familiar faces.

My sister also came.  With her baby Harrison.

Everything is different……

Escape…to Gwinganna.

26 Apr
I’ve been dreading doing the whole ‘this time last year’ thing. I hope that in time the vivid recollections I’m currently able to make about my diagnosis (to the point of remembering the exact time, what I was wearing) will fade.
For now, I just wanted to get out of the house, away from the situation I found myself in this time 12 months ago.
An escape to a health retreat couldn’t have been more perfect if I’d deliberately set out to organise it. But I hadn’t you see.
In a lovely turn of events, I’ve been gifted a delightful weekend at Gwinganna, courtesy of a special woman who was at an event I spoke at last year.  You just never know who’s in the audience and what they might take from what you have to say. This lady who works at Gwinganna very kindly gifted me a stay at this magnificent retreat, saying ‘by  sharing your experience you will help others, I’m choosing to give something to you because I can.’ Wow……
Spectacular setting (within an hour from home), beautiful caring staff, incredible organic, healthy, nourishing food, clean fresh air, peace and quiet…a truly lovely way to take stock of how dramatically my life has changed in the past 12 months and to prepare for the next surgery.

Art with Heart

20 Oct
Lori is one special woman.
Apart from the fact that she’s supremely talented as an artist – our boobs and the rotten cancer that’s invaded them, has brought us together…
(Ohhh – did I mention she’s a bit of an Elvis fan?!)