Summer 2014. My bloody lower back is aching again..I am nearly 44. Uff is this old age setting in already I ask myself!
I am a mother of 2 little girls. Madison aged nearly 12 (mentally 20) and Roxanne who is 7. I also have a husband, Chris, he works in the yachting industry. I work full time in an office and we have a nice little life living in Palma de Mallorca.
I like to go to the gym. I like to be busy. I like/try to have total control of most aspects of my life. I am a born organiser and I am very good at multi tasking. I am a strong minded girl, sometimes I let myself down by over worrying, but generally I know where I am at. All of these will be tested over the coming months.
So I decided to finally take myself to see the doctor as I had been moaning about pains in my lower back and tummy area. It was like a dull ache, not a specific pain. Previously had problems in the "lady garden area" and just thought it was that again. Doctor confirmed I had ovarian cysts and a growth on my right ovary and she put me on a new medication to shrink them. This was in June, by September I was feeling sick and had headaches, took myself off the medication and she booked an op for December to remove them. November I received a phone call to say that my operation had been cancelled due to my doctor being off sick but they did not rearrange it. To cut a very long story short, I contacted my insurance company, went to see another specialist who informed me after more scans that my ovaries were completely clear and I had probably been ovulating before and surgery was not required!!!!!! This specialist was convinced it was a bone issue. WTF, so would I have gone to hospital in December and had an operation that I did not need...would they have just told me they had removed the problem?
November was spent feeling very tired, unmotivated and pain was becoming so intense I was struggling at work to sit at my desk. I had stopped my regular gym sessions and sat on the sofa most nights with hot water bottles that my increasingly patient husband prepared for me. Christmas came and went. I felt like shit. Cancelled all social appointments and was generally quite low and feeling unwell.
2015 - Full Steam Ahead!
It was a Friday in January, can not remember the date, think it was 16th. Feeling particularly shit and in pain at work, my boss insists that I take myself to Urgencias (A & E department). Chris picks me up from the office and off we go to embark on what will become a journey of unexpected conversations and experiences...
Clinical Juaneda xrayed me straight away and confirmed that I had a fractured coccyx, although the doctor did say the pain possibly was not from this as in his opinion, the fracture was very old. To be fair, I have had a few falls over the years... many a good night out ended with the Coleman horizontal, so this did make sense! Booked in to see a trauma specialist the following Monday. Trauma specialist confirms it's an old injury, he believes this is a bowel problem - I was beginning to feel the same way, due to some of the symptoms recently. Bowel specialist is booked for 3 days later and also an MRI scan to check spine etc.
One would expect a bowel specialist to be a middle aged person, not a young sassy chica! That was one internal inspection I found to be particularly uncomfortable... much to the perverted amusement of husband once he saw her! I think she knew on that day what she would find during the colonoscopy that is booked for me the following week. Prescription is written for the medicine to clear out my colon and off I go, none the wiser.
Now reading up on Colon Cancer, the signs were all there.
OMG. The medication to clear out ones bowels are horrific. All I will say is, the bathroom becomes your new best friend and you wish you had a cooler built into your underwear!!! I was too scared to sleep on the night before my colonoscopy, not because of the procedure but due to the effect of the medication...if you have seen that famous scene from Train Spotting, you will understand...ewwwww!
I am a born organiser ... obviously not Amanda as you turned up 24 hours late to your colonoscopy!!! Not only was I super stressed about having a camera shoved up my bottom, I also had to adopt a duck like walk to ensure I had no embarrassing accidents on the way to the clinic due to said medication, which was still working its magic on me. As we sat in admissions, whilst she looked and shook her head saying "no it was yesterday you were supposed to be here", all I could think of was there is not a chance in hell I am doing another 16 hours attached to a porcelain bowel AND it cost me 40 euros for that bum burning experience. Thankfully for me, sassy bum specialist took pity on me and agreed to still go ahead with the colonoscopy later in the afternoon. All I had to do in the meantime was to try and retain some dignity and stay close to a bathroom.
The best thing about having private medical insurance is that you can ask for drugs (within reason of course) and they will happily oblige. I have a fear of surgery and being put to sleep and although I was not having a full general for the bottom inspection, I still asked for something to relax me. So here I am in the prep room, sporting a very attractive white gown which opens fully at the back (wish I had worn a thong to the beach now last summer as I still have a visible bikini bottom mark). I start to shake uncontrollably. The fear kicks in. I am given my sedative and the floaty clouds and big smile arrive.
"we only managed to go 70cm inside as we found a tumour and yes in our opinion the size and colour would indicate that it is cancer..."
Floaty cloud and smile disappear, we are given an appointment for the following week and Chris and I go home with that sentence ringing in our ears. Surely it can't be cancer, I don't get cancer...do I? I have named my tumour Trevor.
Monday 2nd February: I have a enterography MRI scan (think that is what it was). Have to drink 2 bottles of Pernod tasting liquid which makes me gag then burp uncontrollably. Very ladylike in the waiting area belching and gagging on this vile liquid. Chris laughing like a 5 year old. I also notice that I am, without doubt, the youngest person there! What am I doing here I ask myself. These are all old people waiting for scans, I'm 44. Again nakedness is required, white gown on (at least I have my knickers on this time) and off we go for for my 3rd MRI scan since December. They try to insert an intravenous drip for the medication, however, apparently I have veins the size of a child. Finally find a vein to use after 4 or 5 attempts (breathe in breathe out) and I'm ready to go. OUCH OUCH OUCH my right arm is burning and starting to swell. Hello is this normal I call out... oh no, the intravenous medicine has gone into my muscle and not my vein...I am starting to look like Popeye's sister. They use a blue medical glove, fill it with hot water and strap to my right bicep and insert the drip to the left arm and off we go again. Can't imagine what I look like, laying there with a white gown and a fully inflated blue hand attached to me...where is my mobile, surely this is a selfie worthy picture for Fannybook.
Thursday 5th February: results day. Indeed Trevor the tumour is cancerous but not to worry, it will just be cut out and you will be ok. No chemotherapy or radiation will be required, what a bloody lucky girl I am. Well that's a relief then. Plus, it is done with keyhole surgery, so guessing I will be home the same afternoon. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world and announce this to everyone.
The bliss of ignorance...
Monday 9th February: Appointment with the lovely surgeon who will remove Trevor. Lovely surgeon announces that this is very serious and I will come into hospital today and the operation will be Tuesday evening. Serious? Keyhole they said! Yes Amanda, it is keyhole...easy for me but major surgery for you. 2/3 hour op and a 6 day hospital stay as we need to remove Trevor (well he said tumour of course) and 30cm of your colon. The first time lovely surgeon receives the "WTF" exclamation from me - it will not be the last time! Well this is a total inconvenience I shout out...lovely surgeon likes this feisty attitude and tells husband I will do well. Anxious lunch with the littles at home (they come home from school for lunch), explain Mummy must have an operation to have a lump removed, but all will be ok and they can come and visit Mummy as soon as the operation is finished. Pack bag, big big tight hugs with the littles and off Chris & I go.
Room is nice. Double room with 2 single beds in case I have a party and someone needs to crash over. I play with the bed controls for a while, raising head & leg simultaneously...OMG OMG I will go mad here for 6 days,.I am not ill, how can I be here for 6 days. I have children, a family, work, I have a life, I can NOT be in here for 6 days. I have brought 3 books, mini DVD player and a stack of classic films to fill the 6 boring days ahead of me. HA HA HA oh yes, that still makes me laugh even now thinking that I would be bored!!!
Second round of colon/bum clearing medicine is administered and then I had to suffer the indignity of having an enema. I already had a smacked arse face due to the drip they had inserted. Surely this is not needed until tomorrow, my operation is not until 5pm tomorrow night I cry out as she puts the intravenous line into my arm and it is put into the inside elbow area (more medically minded friends of mine will know what that area is called), so of course, I can not bend my arm and now I will have the worst nights sleep - well what with that and the toilet dashes!!! I cry for the fist time, overwhelming sense of why the f*&k am I in here doing this, how can I have a Trevor? I was on my 238th trip to the bathroom (not easy running fast and clenching butt checks with an intravenous drip & stand attached to your arm!!), when in walked the nurse with a suspicious looking bottle. I knew exactly where that was going! I tried to explain in my poor Spanish that there was not much left inside me, so could she spare me from the enema and she genuinely did look sorry for me and said no, "roll over"...
How long should I hold the liquid in for...as long as you can Amanda...10 seconds after she left the room, I did my intravenous drip sprint to the bathroom... this was going to be a long night again...
Tuesday 10th February: Op Day. Anxious. Relaxed. Anxious. They come for me around 4pm. Familiar faces in pre op room from before, nice to be recognised and lots of hellos and smiley faces. Uff here come the nerves, nice little pre med and I'm back on floaty cloud with stupid grin on face when lovely surgeon man arrives. Gives me a reassuring arm squeeze, mask is put on my face, 2 big deep breathes and I'm under.
Wake up in recovery room, freezing and shaking. Bed is being filled with warm air and people are talking to me. Chris says I came back to the room around 10pm looking rough and talking rubbish. Sounds like how our Sunday mornings post clubbing used to be in London!!
Wednesday pain. Oh the pain. Give me the drugs. I know I had visitors, 2 being my children, the gorgeous Melanie (Roxy's first amazing au pair) and my husband. Have minimal memory of those visits. Apparently I fell asleep mid sentence with Madison and little Roxy was so shocked at how ill I looked, well she was too scared to come and talk to me. I sleep through all of Wednesday and Wednesday evening, only waking to be given more drugs to ease the pain. Why do they wake you...you have a drip in my vein, just get it in there!
Thursday 12th February: Catheter is removed and I am helped to the bathroom, after being given a full bed bath (words can not describe just how wrong it is to have 2 people washing you, whilst making conversation with each other over you), to make pee pee on my own. Big claps all round... I feel like a potty training toddler. Am told I must ring the alarm each time I need to pee so that someone can help me walk, as I am attached to two drips and I have a catheter for internal bleeding which has a bag attached to it. So true to Coleman stubborn form, 20 minutes after they had left my room, I set off to the bathroom on my own. So anyone who has had a c-section ( I did with Roxanne, which helped me tremendously with this op) or any form of stomach procedure, will know how painful the first few days are, you can not walk, you can not pull yourself up, you can not sit up using your stomach muscles alone. Now I have strong stomach muscles, but this was going to be a test to my strength and determination. I figured out a good routine. I raised the head end of my bed and get into a sitting position. I pull "blood bag" over from right side, so that its together with my drips on my left side. Ok, now to shuffle legs over so that they are then over the bed and I pull myself up using the edge of the window and edge of the bed. OH THE F*&KING PAIN IS UNBELIEVABLE but I am there, I am in a standing position. I find walking, well I say walking, more like a slow Michael Jackson moon walk/shuffle, doing that backwards whilst pulling my intravenous drip stand (its on wheels) works well. It took 35 minutes from bed to bathroom to bed again. I did it. I feel victorious.
Chicken soup, chicken soup, yes yes, please can I have some more chicken soup!!!!!! Seriously, it even came in different size boxes to try and trick me to believe it was something else. I am only allowed to go home if I can poop or fart. Well then, stop giving me chicken soup and something a little more encouraging so that my newly reformed plumbing will get excited and give you the results you want!
Sunday 15th February: I am allowed to go home. Got a big hug from lovely surgeon man and told I have done very well and all seems ok, he had good look around inside and there are no signs of the Trevor spreading to other organs. Phew. I just need to be at home for a couple of weeks to recuperate and I'll be good to go. Appointment booked to see lovely surgeon next week for check up and to remove the minimal stitches that I have.
Wow, I am exhausted. Totally wiped out. Simple tasks as getting up to have breakfast with my girls is totally debilitating. It is so important for me that my girls see me each day making an effort, being strong. I have a routine. I wake, I have breakfast with them, I go back to bed. I wake at 1130am to prepare lunch and am with them until they leave for school again at 2.30pm then back to the sofa or bed. Thank goodness for my amazing au pair.
Wednesday 18th February: Lovely surgeon gets his second WTF reaction to his announcement that Trevor was very aggressive and cancer is in some of my lymph nodes. Chemotherapy is required. I have to leave the room as I can feel the tears burning my eyes. I find a bathroom near to his office and have a very large WAAAAAA moment, wipe my tears away and head back to lovely surgeon's office. He has a fantastic manor about him, very reassuring but I am still struggling to take on board what he is telling me. Appointment is made to see oncology the following week. Chris and I leave the office, tight hand hold and walk to the car. We decide that we must tell Madison. How do you tell your eldest child that Mummy has cancer and will need treatment that will in turn make her ill but eventually make her better. How do you do that...that is not written in the "how to be a parent book" that they give you at the hospital when you come home with your new precious child. Oh yes, that book that does not exist!!!
To see your first born hurting, scared, crying is something that will remain with me forever. Madison is such a strong girl, full of love and life. I momentarily tore her secure world apart...we explained that I will get better, her reply "you can not guarantee that though can you, Daddy told me that they had removed the bad piece and that you would be better" How do I answer that? I cry for her that night.
Week commencing 23rd February is full of anxious hospital visits. I will require fortnightly chemotherapy of Folfox 5FU (seriously, my treatment sounds like a 1980s sci fi series!!) and this will last for 6 months. I will have 3 hours at the clinic with chemo then home with a chemo pack attached to my port a cath for another 48 hours. They do not give you much information here, the bare minimum and I'm guessing that is to not stress you too much. Port a cath is also fitted, this was the defining moment for me, when I suddenly realised and accepted that I HAVE COLON CANCER STAGE III. I felt broken when this was fitted. The invasion in my body, the realisation that this was gong to be my toughest work out yet. This week was full of highs/lows, unexpected waves of tears. The tears come involuntary and completely take hold of my body, they only last for about 30/40 seconds and then I am fine again. It feels like grief, I feel grief for the stress and upset this is causing my family and friends and I have no control over it. I need to have control over this. Thankfully, I have an amazing support network here, people to just be here if I need to talk and to laugh with. I have been showered with love, gifts, flowers, lunches and it really does make a difference knowing that people love and care for you.
Chemotherapy can only start after the 4th week of surgery and mine will be four weeks to the day. My chemo starts on Wednesday 11th March at 1645.
"The best protection any woman can have ... is courage" ~ Elizabeth Candy Stanton
