Encouraging Rummaging

As my recovery progresses I am going topless more and more … it’s liberating, freedom, fun and gives a whole amazing sense of well-being. I often force this new topless habit upon my family and a couple of days ago enticed my neighbours into joining me topless around town in the sunshine.

I am of course talking about being in cars…actually my beloved mini convertible, I have been driving in my car, whizzing around with my top off shamelessly playing ABBA (and here I must just express a thank you for the music). This is what treatable cancer can do for a person it brings back the joie de vie, the lust for life.

Finally accepting that my medication is the bitterest pill turning me rapidly into a puffa fish … threw out my conservative pre cancer outfits and my new mantra is if you are bloaty wear floaty! I’m so floaty mind and clothes .

Tamoxifen how lovely! To think I should be so lucky not to have chemo or radiotherapy. I really am delighted about this. The side effects are explained clearly and I discovered I am indeed the one in ten. I am the one to collect every side effect … honoured .

Been a while I know, I’ve been so busy never time to myself … this recovery malarky is exhausting . Off the beds , manage the stairs … Sit … medication … exercises…. water …. food … small walks… longer walks … the weeks have flown by…..

Week 1 of recovery mad drug hazed blur( reminds me of my early 20’s)

Week 2 back to surgeon to be told I had lovely clear margins….. had no effing clue what that meant but accepted the compliment and hobbled away flattered and feeling good … my nodes and margins are fabulous darling!

Same week went to oncologist… heard all about my lovely clear margins again. To be honest when it comes to hearing about my nodes I just can’t get enough! I can be treated solely with tablets … wow … same old questionnaire … how much do I drink ? Same old half truth for an answer … Mr S , the oncologist and the cancer nurse all knew it was a lie but everyone just nodded. Mr oncologist suggested I reduce my alcohol intake and I assured him since being under the knife I hadn’t really partaken. 😂

Next question was about homelife I told him about our four teenagers/young adults and that I work as a secondary school teacher. Mr Oncologist told me to ignore all previous advice re alcohol I was doing really well .

Week 2,4&6 were physio appointments where I got to meet up with two of my three ward warriors … physio … ?…. We sat on chairs and were told to put your hands up … so we raised our arms and that was it … my type of exercise…so much so I now do chair yoga … yes chair yoga how lazy can a bloaty floaty girl get 😂?

Back to see the surgeon oh how the protocol has changed … ushered straight into the examination room told you know the procedure, was left with a gown and had to de robe in front of Mr S! In came surgeon and nurse and the surgeon proceeded to cup and weigh each boob… yes the weird numb tissue in a sack called my new boob is indeed smaller and perkier and more solid , solid as a rock in parts, so very different to my trusty saggy one of old. No longer twins they are sisters.

So now it’s that time of year holiday season where we all hope the weather will be good and we will all be staying out for the summer. When I’m supposed to fret over bikini body … yes I care about my appearance always have… yes I am aware I have changed shape …. what’s a missing tit amongst friends?… I love it … my change of shape means I’m still here so bikini ready ? Yep I have a body; I just purchased a fabulous Italian bikini…

bikini on body = bikini body … What will people think about me in a bikini? Will I feel ok not being a perfect 10 ( or 12 or even 14 for that matter)

Who gives a shit?

Says a lot about a person if they are judging other people in their holiday attire… just saying !

Wonders of having cancer: some friends disappear altogether and to those I genuinely wish them well everyone has a reason, people are people. And for those few that leave others step on up and oh my goodness a huge huge shout out to all those wonderful people who have. I have been fed Turkish delights, quaffed chilli teas, been treated to lunches, suppers and some of the finest champagne and oysters! I feel love .

My visitors have travelled lengthy distances to see me and support me, and so many have messaged me regularly it’s been wonderful. And to all of you I dedicate my adaptation of an ABBA classic that I sing topless in my car:

“So I say thank you for the cancer; for giving it to me”. Because without the cancer I would never have experienced the spoiling and the attention …. we all need love and affection…without cancer I wouldn’t have been made to feel so special we all know that all you need is love…so again … thank you for the cancer for giving it to me 🎼

I am a true cancer bore these days …. no longer “hi I’m Janine I’m an acquired taste”… more “hi I’m Janine did I mention I’ve had breast cancer?” … it’s like a form of Tourette’s I can’t stop myself oh well I suppose I have to accept for the time being I am what I am … this is me!

So to sum up discoveries on my cancer journey thus far:

1.A lot of cancer patients are not bald. A lot of bald people don’t have cancer.

2.Some cancer help sites are just weird I mean seriously weird!

3. I will never ever refer to this treatment again as a tummy tuck and boob job.

4. I’ve been reminded the world is an amazing place, people are so very kind.

5. Whichever form of topless we choose we really should go for it,

6. Definitely a course in flower arranging would be useful before major surgery.

7. There is a song for every occasion

If you rummage around in this entry you will find song titles/ lyrics shamelessly thrown / forced in ( 24 to be precise ) This is to remind you that there may always be something lurking. So it’s time for action rummage about as often as possible, get right in there and poke about and maybe you will find something… maybe not, definitely maybe ? But catch it early and you get all this amazing love and affection and still get to live a while longer.

So I shall leave this entry now with a link to another song which does wonders for the soul and is the only one I can find which celebrates having boobies and a liver …enjoy! Nina Simone with the wonderful lyrics ” I’ve got life”

https://m.youtube.com/watch?feature=youtu.be&v=8_ZD9cFk7DM

• Hospital stays are odd. You pack your best things and prepare your self almost like going on holiday: legs waxed, miniature toiletries purchased, new underwear etc. So with this in mind on trip advisor I will be giving my stay all the highest possible ratings. Staff were exceptional the food menu excellent presentation of food excellent. Accommodation spotless.

I spent six days with my fellow Ward Warriors, we were all in battle together, and I couldn’t have asked for better company. We shared stories together, cried together but mainly laughed together.

Day 1 op 8.5 hours under no comment as I was in a wonderful deep sleep… waking up was surreal I was in HDU and covered in tubes and very sore.

Was offered pain relief ….oh yes! ….Bring on the morphine drip….can’t wait …

Er nope …

The pain relief for having contents of a boob scooped out and abdomen stuffed into empty boob sack then all pulled  and stuck together is apparently paracetamol and ibuprofen…… I take stronger than that for the thought of a bloody hangover!

This was not boding well .

Day 2 much excitement as coaxed off the bed and sat upright ….ouch …. we were all issued with a rolled up towel to hold on abdomen to help with coughing. We used it more for the laughter.

Day 3 shower and some tubes removed.

The shock of looking in the mirror…

I can almost hear your thoughts and empathy now about facing a mutilalted body for the first time ….

You do really have to brace yourself for the new damaged you.

My horror went like this:

“ Shit my thighs are so fat !”

Yup days of abstinence and tiny meals and a beached whale still staring back at me … damn.

The days moved on we were prodded and poked regularly to check all was well … and that was just from our visitors 😂Those curtains are great for privacy they pull them around your bed and poke your boob and check your abdomen and your drains ( medics now not visitors… well in most cases … there are always some odd bods .)

My three Ward Warriors could of course, hear everything though the cotton and polyester lemon, blue and lavender patterned modesty barrier.

Oh we heard it all.

We knew how well each other was feeling, we knew if we had any discomfort or emotional problems and we all awaited with baited breath as to whether an answer would be in the affirmative when quizzed if we had opened our bowels !

And if that isn’t enough information should the answer be affirmative the nurse produced a screen on the iPad of a variety of poos and we were requested to identify which number image represented our latest motion ….. I didn’t know ….

I never look ….

i panicked……

I lied….

I couldn’t resist… I said……number two!

Number two who wouldn’t?

What other number could you possibly give as a reply to a question grading poo numerically?

And seriously …..who studies their poo?

Day 5 Physio arrived we ward warriors stood by our beds and went through the motions ( exercise motions now not bowel that would be wrong)

To paint the complete image we were all in pjs and had drains hanging out of us which we were carrying about in green carrier bags … were these really our exercises?

We basically performed a silent version of the Macarena….. dun da da dun da da dun da da da da ….. yeah … Macarena !

My work is done you all now have that tune in your heads.

So back home apprehensive without my mechanical bed , the experts, the amazing staff and my fellow Ward Warriors.

Mr S has proved to be the most attentive carer, we’ve been through a lot recently as a family so imagine how wonderful it was for us all to sit together; myself, Mr S and the gorgeous teenagers S1, S2, S3 &S4. So lovely to share an evening meal together. Mr S served us up a rather splendid much needed chicken soup!

So good to to be back home.

Don’t forget if you don’t fancy being prodded and poked by strangers then prod and poke yourselves.

Rummage away !

I’ve always loved a poached egg 😂😂😂

It’s been a while I know, but to be honest not a lot been happening boob cancer wise.

Went for sentinel node biopsy… crikey listen to me and all my new found vocabulary! Basically this means day surgery, general anaesthetic a blue dye and a very sore armpit.

Mr S and I cracked this hospital hanging about malarkey and he packed himself a bite to eat, money, book and headphones to occupy him whilst I was under. I packed nothing … 

Gown and blue surgical stocking applied off I went handed Mr S my phone …. wouldn’t be needing that!

Four hours later Mr S permitted to see me. Poor chap had really struggled whilst I was under.

The car key was in my handbag with me  …. he had had no access to lunch, to money, or book nor headphones.

He was back to dreaming of chicken soup in a waiting room.

Came home with a blue hue ( me not Mr S!) which I quite liked more avatar than smurf. But my nipple ! Oh my ! Bright bright blue ! It’s wonderful. Having mentioned my blue nipple a friend suggested this sounded like a cocktail… so I did my research and yes it’s a very nice tipple!

When home and recovering the weather was glorious so I have begun planning my garden as when I’m recovering from my main surgery this will be a pleasant distraction.

Let me explain:

Gardening is such a gift and joy I have only come to realise later in life. The immense fun with the names is like living in a permanent world of Carry On films!

Being able to discuss the fact that I need to protect the  wood currently supporting my spreading clematis (no cream available for that condition)… or expressing concern  for my trailing lobelias ….well…… let’s hope they don’t wilt! This is pure joy to me … I remind you all I am an acquired taste.

Anyone else considering trimming their front hedges in preparation for spring ? Pruning their foliage?(Even I won’t stoop so low as  to use the term  bush) 😉

Flowers and nature….. 

the language of love and 1970’s innuendo comedy 😂

But enough of this gardening banter.

Typing the word wilt reminds me I had to buy new bras today … I took a good friend with me as good to have support for supports … bra shop just another excuse to whip them out.

 I discovered a gap in the market here … we boobie op people would like less surgical styles and colours… why not a lovely red and black or a pastel pink ? Perhaps a chartreuse or an eau de niI ?

Oh no I am subjected to beige …. beige?…. don’t try to dress it up with names such as nude or natural… it’s beige, a very under rated colour I admit, but I’m not one who suits surgical beige.

Eventually after much hilarity I bought a couple of front opening numbers oh my the glamour… the amount of fasteners  I reckon even Joey from friends would struggle to whip these creations off! 

So next week it the truly horrible week … 

Titty off day is Tuesday my right boob is destined for the bucket and this has inspired me ; indeed it has brought out my poetic side in the form of a limerick ( that fine highly acclaimed poetic genre one often turns to rather than the sonnet or ballard in order to truly express one’s emotions.)

Please enjoy and savour the literary skill involved.

Here is my little ditty

Next week for me will be shitty

This is why I encourage 

Everyone to have a good rummage 

So that none of you have to lose a titty 

😂😂😂

Hasta luego 😘

So today my daughters are protesting in London re climate change whilst I go for a spot of nuclear medicine!

As I was getting ready for this appointment I began thinking about my journey so far. 

All I can think is how much I have changed since the day my GP referred to me.

I am of course speaking literally. 

Every time I have an appointment I am either directed to a cubicle with a washed and pressed gown or a side room with a couch.

One is directed into the side room with the instructions please remove everything from the waist up and make yourself comfortable on the couch…. well initially this leads to a very quick mental scan of state of armpits, effectiveness of deodorant etc. I accept my  regret at wearing a dress as I consider the  logistics; should I try to just push it down to waist or whip it off all together to reveal extra gusset tights?

Next  I tidy my  clothes on the chair folding the best  bra neatly and laying it under other garments. 

Why?

 Is this some desperate attempt at modesty whilst boobs are wobbling about? In the cubicle the ritual is similar except I get to hang clothes up almost as though unpacking for an overnight stay in a hotel!

Oh how I have changed nowadays!

I need no thought about  easy off tops and bras  I am barely in the consulting room shaking hands and off with the lot ; flinging attire far and wide.

Leaping up on the couch calling out “Ready!” 

(Must admit I  am a tad concerned next time I have an appointment with my boss or the dentist!)

Have been trying to make decisions these past few weeks  re which surgery is the best for me and have been considering going flat. I’ve read so many articles about women who don’t even bother with a prosthetic and it all seems rather empowering… until I thought of holidays…. I don’t mind being one boobed in a bikini and have even considered tattooing the whole area for more attention… but a simple thought struck me … buoyancy in the water … will I keep falling to one side ? And if swimming will I end up going round in circles?

Today as I said was Nuclear imaging. Off to the cubicle ( considering just rocking up to appointments in the gown in future … it’s a good look with ankle length socks.) Then the pep talk about feeling a little prick ( you’re on your own with this one) and how it’s similar to a bee sting. 

Ok bees are good !

In the chair ( similar to dentist chair “Ready!”😂) reclined with pillow, boob out, one radiographer holds my hand and says just take it out on her… I take a deep breath , curl my toes … 

“Am I going to need your hand?”

Sympathetic nod from lovely lady and then …

Nothing! 

Not even a scratch… gutted 

And I tell them so !

Apparently they’ve not had the line “ well what sort of shite bees do you have in Harlow? ”

Oh how we all chortled and laughed as I expressed genuine disappointment at not having an heroic tale to tell. Then ‘twas back to the cubicle …

Changed in record time…. I am after all radioactive!☢️

How cool is that I even have to wear a special wrist band until after tomorrow

Off for node biopsy tomorrow don’t forget when rummaging get right under the armpits as well !

Looking forward to my general anaesthetic…more changes! 

Hasta Luego x

• 

It was a long day Tuesday:

Morning, afternoon and evening appointments. Was so helpful having Mr S with me for the day appointments. I was sitting with the cannula hanging out of my arm after having the dye put in and he kindly went to the machine and got me a cup of coffee… that’s why I brought him … a good support.

The woman next to me asked how the dye experience was as she was terribly nervous I tried to reassure her. 

Then Mr S  returned with my coffee a mixture of emotions, exclaiming the machine promised  chicken soup, Mr S fancied a chicken soup, Mr S was devastated the machine failed to produce chicken soup. ( I use no hyperbole ) 

I tried to console him, whilst sipping my coffee and reassuring my nervous neighbour  however all I could sense was Mr S and his fidgeting frustrations, the extending of his neck to peek down the corridor. Then came the announcement that he was off to check on the car. I could hear the deceit in his voice. We both knew the real reason for his abandoning me in a waiting room … he was hunting down alternative chicken soup purveying machinery. 

Within minutes a shadow of his former self,  he returned to announce no machines were providing soup today…

I wished the nervous woman luck as she was called in to be pumped with dye. The look of pity for me and the warm sympathetic two hands over my one farewell gesture said it all ….. being pumped with dye was preferable to her than remaining with us.

I turned back to Mr S, the lack of chicken soup so temptingly promised like a siren in Greek mythology, cruelly denied him, had rendered him silent as he came to terms with his fate, that here, in this hospital  no machine was willing to relinquish soup of poultry variety.

I’m taking a book with me  next time.

In the evening I went to a show and tell with my sister re my operation. She was what I can only state as rather over enthusiastic to discover an M&S  food hall in the hospital we checked the time …. five minutes to have a quick run round those food aisles then up to area green 121. What is it about my family and food in hospitals?

We met an amazing group of women prepared to talk about their experiences of breast cancer and reconstruction. 

Bit weird at first as all of them standing around with gowns open showing the reality of the final results of the procedures I am about to embark upon.

We learnt a lot from speaking to these women and I was even  allowed to touch one reconstruction. So empowering I made my mind up immediately that I too want to do this …. not stand around with boobs out all day, or indeed touching every false boob I meet … well maybe…. but help others once I’m on the other side of it all as well.

Much to my sisters delight we were finished 10 mins before M&S closed so whilst she considered the merits of a chicken and ham sandwich I had a quick go on the grapefruits. Any excuse to rummage ! 

I can’t pretend; I am really enjoying the attention I’m getting since my diagnosis.

My journey my way . Acquired taste and all that .

Went to see my lovely consultant, took my girls as I wanted them to see how much fun it all is, absolutely gutted I wasn’t asked to whip my top off and reveal my puppies today … and I had my best bra on !  Just as well as bloody chilsters today. Now that would have been a blue Monday!

Off to see plastic surgeon and have abdomen scanned tomorrow all in preparation for my Diep flap.

I know … the op I’m having has the word flap in it … I shall say no more about that.

Actually this is a brief entry today as was my appointment ( clearly  feeling rejected from non eventful non topless appointment, same old story mine are old news obviously newer cancerous boobs are out there to be explored)

The tumours are less mother and child more fraternal twins . One is absolutely hormone receptive excellent news the other couldn’t be further down the scale so maybe chemo maybe not. There’s always one little bugger who demands more attention than the rest isn’t there… ?  

As this is a short one, a quick shout out to our cervical sisters, loads of media coverage re decline in smear tests. I had to have abnormal cells lasered off last year no biggy didn’t even mention it to anyone. So just drop your big girl pants and regard the process as a liberating yoga position.

If you haven’t been recently then get fannying around !

Just came off the phone to a good friend who asked if I was interested in re-homing a new puppy, no thanks I’m having a new puppy custom built!

So ….if you would prefer not to loose a puppy keep rummaging 😉

Sooooooo today was a learning curve… it was all about the curves come to think of it .

Today was my appointment with the surgeon who will be rebuilding me. I sat boobs out and five people staring at them… quite empowering really.

Then I left the waiting room and met the surgeon… sorry couldn’t resist that one .

Once dressed ( why he took his clothes off I’ll never know 😂) he drew pictures of tummies and tits with arrows and percentages re risks but all I could focus on was the phrase we weigh what’s taken out and aim to put the same weight back in. Wow I’ve often wondered what the weight of my boobs was and now I will find out.

I complained to husband,Mr S, that they were a tough crowd these five … he suggested perhaps they were just being professional… I refused to leave till I had cracked them… I was there a long time 🙂

Met two amazing women who did my pre op assessment… tad awkward when asked how much alcohol I consume each week … I was brave and didn’t lie… next question was did I want to see someone about alcohol addiction?

Ooops

I’ve promised to behave from now till the op ( well I’ll start Monday )

I was treated like a queen coffee in a china cup and a free tuna sandwich I was there so bloody long . I loved those women today . I love the NHS. We had such a fun time together it was almost a shame to go home.

So title today glamour modelling… final part of assessment was having photographs taken. Found my way to the correct room and discovered it’s actually a proper photographic studio… all the lighting etc… so if sitting with boobs out in front of five strangers wasn’t liberating enough now I was doing topless modelling… I loved it. Had to complete form would I consent to sharing photos in medical circles ? Hell yes. 51 and topless photos! Apparently they crop your head out, just as well as it was a bad hair day today.

Moving on to the future, I have always wanted a tattoo but never could decide what I actually wanted . Well it turns out further down the line I can have nipple re construction and the best bit is they have to tattoo the colour on. So be careful what you wish for. Naturally I have googled interesting nipple tattoos and have now got some fabulous ideas … the mouse is my favourite. Google it as it’s an eye opener.

So bit of a tough time ahead but no housework for six weeks ( they said three but hey best be safe 😉) on the plus side a tummy tuck and new boob . Eyes on the prize , eyes on the prize… oh yes and hopefully goodbye cancer.

I’m having a blast making the most of this adventure and I feel very lucky, but please remember keep rummaging and asking questions and feel free to rummage each other .

Blimey that was a bit deep so here is a pic of a mouse tattoo work out for yourselves where the nipple would go . Xxx

So went to collect my treatment plan and found out I was wrong . Well wrong ish there is an iddy biddy tumour of 4 mm but also a 3 cm one as well. Awww a mummy and baby tumour!

What does that mean? It means no lumpectomy for me! I get the whole mastectomy. So I shall strap my self in for the exciting ride ahead.

As the conversation unfolded it became more and more fun and so much more exciting. I always have such a giggle with the staff.

Turns out I can have reconstruction at the same time and they can use my body tissue …. best bit…..they can take it from my abdomen! Yay a boob job and tummy tuck for free… I know people who have paid a fortune for this kind of surgery. Not only that but are often judged for their vanity … I get a new me and lots of sympathy support and attention.

Ethical question… I am down to see my plastic surgeon next week … are we ok with plastics ? Should they be cosmetic surgeons only as plastic is so terribly bad for the environment? I digress ( I often digress apologies)

Title to today’s blog ? Well remember I am an acquired taste.

I have oft wondered what happens to all the boobs that get chopped off. I envisage a big yellow plastic tub that they are all tossed into. Imagine the squelching sound. And then I imagine someone has the job of wheeling this tub to the incinerator.

Yes I know that’s not what happens but I like my bucket of boobs image.

Apparently with the reconstruction they keep your skin which has scuppered my initial plan . Thought of preserving it Damian Hurst cow style as an object of beautiful art in formaldehyde. Maybe displayed in the hallway as a welcome for guests?

• 

I first found my fatty tissue lump just before my 50 th birthday present from NHS . That’s when you get a mammogram as a special treat. Was told there were no signs of cancer so left it . I’m 51 and 5 months now ( I know … I look fab don’t I? ) and it took me till September this year to decide that maybe just possibly they missed something. So my friends please rummage good and rummage hard and rummage often . The moment you spot a slight difference get it checked and insist on conclusive evidence rather than a GP’s “no I think that’s fine” comment.

Remember the more you rummage the less chance of seeing that bucket of boobs ( or balls for that matter)

And here I must credit Diane who suggested they turn the boobs into politicians , however I beg to differ I believe that’s the destiny of the ball bucket as they all talk bollocks . But I digress again.

Keep rummaging x