Like a homing pigeon on a mission...

Two weeks ago I rediscovered London.
It was the first time I've been back since that fateful first mammogram, in January 2018.

Amazing weekend with my son...tennis, dumplings, Puma and Liberty!
As he's currently living in Germany I don't get to see him very often, so these times are special.

Ahhh, Liberty...
When it comes to Liberty, I'm like a homing pigeon on a mission!
An obsession that started in the 1980s, as a sixteen year old at Art School, and continued throughout the decades.

I love Liberty, and my bank card took a hammering in the fabric department.
So now my shelves are groaning under the weight of all the fabric, my head is full of ideas, but my body is distinctly lacking in oomph.

I blame winter.
Love winter layers, the feel of tactile wool, the glow of fairy lights, but I have a definite aversion to the cold, the Welsh drizzle and five o'clock darkness.

Completely unmotivated this week.
It's a combination of the bitter cold outside, the excitement of rediscovering London and starting letrozole.

London marked another cancer milestone for me.
(There have been many!)
This was the first time since chemo

therapy that I felt my hair was proper hair again.
That no one looking at me would think of it as chemo curls, just hair in need of a good cut!
Looking at my unruly curls growing out in all directions and my too long and wispy fringe, I started to remember chemo baldness fondly.

I haven't had a short hairstyle since I was five years old, but the positive thing that came out of losing my hair last year was that it opened up hair options that I'd never considered before.
So...short as short can be! 

Liberty sunflowers,  Liberty camera strap.

Marking cancer milestones.

Cancer.

I have to admit, nineteen months post diagnosis and eleven months post active treatment, it is still something I think about every day.

Not in a constant, brooding sort of way, but it is always there, at the back of my mind.
A nagging doubt.
And I'm not sure if it will ever go away.

There will always be that fear of recurrence;  
Every time I pop one of the dreaded tamoxifen pills, when I'm wide awake in the middle of the night and find myself tip tapping on Google...when I'm fighting lower back pain.
Always there.

But one of the positive things to come out of the past year and a half - and there were a few - was that it's helped me to focus my business more on something I am passionate about.
Cancer.

We may be in 2019, but cancer still seems to be something that is whispered about, not discussed openly and referred to in vague tones.
Yet nearly half of us will be diagnosed with cancer in our lifetime.

There appears to be a distinct lack of cancer cards and gifts available on the high street.
A get well soon card just doesn't seem appropriate, so this year I've started designing my own, marking cancer milestones.

These are two from a range available at my Etsy Shop, 
https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/TheSherbetPatch

https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/552318150/chemo-card-cancer-card-chemo-is-tough?ref=shop_home_active_19

https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/290553063/cancer-card-chemo-card-bald-brave-and?ref=shop_home_active_18

Hot, hot, hotter. Flushing my way through the menopause.

Menopause.

Growing up I had no real concept of menopause.
If it was talked about at all it was in hushed tones and never in public.
And definitely not discussed with men.
By early adulthood, my view of menopause was that it was something all women went through; an end to periods and a few hot flushes.
No big deal.
How wrong I was!

A year ago I was flung in to an immediate menopause after my second chemo. 
Boom!
No more periods, immediate hot flushes.
And fatigue...oh my goodness, the fatigue!

Two months later I started on Tamoxifen, which just cemented this sudden menopause.
No gradual decline of oestrogen over time, this was instant!

Now, the hot flushes and fatigue were joined by intermittent back pain, weight gain, disturbed sleep, and aching joints.

There is a definite roundness around my middle.
It has expanded alarmingly.

I find myself oohing and aahing as I unfold myself in bed in the morning.
Or getting up from a chair.

And brain fog. 
Finding myself mid sentence, only to get distracted and forget what I was saying.
Concentration is not one of my strengths.

Menopause is not for the faint hearted.
Whatever I had expected, it isn't this.
My new must have/can't leave the house without item is a folding fan.
I go through one a month before it starts to fall apart from overuse.

Duvets....oooft!
It's a 4.5 tog duvet or nothing these days.
And an open window.

My whole wardrobe has had to have an overhaul.
As a former freezer I have a cupboard full of sweaters.
However, within minutes of wearing one I'm having to wrestle it over my head as the hot flush hits.
I now live in summer dresses all year round.

And the icing on the cake?
These symptoms could last a decade or more!

Survivor. Reflection and Moving on.

A year ago today I was nine days past my first chemo.
I was anxiously clinging onto my hair and the unrealistic hope that I may defy the odds and not lose it.
I lost it, and had it shaved off on 4th June.

Today, I am reflecting on a year that tested me both physically and mentally.
Eight and a half months of gruelling treatment; baldness, nausea, mouth ulcers, joint pain, bone ache and crashing fatigue.
The fatigue and back pain continue today,  joined by random hot flashes and a definite roundness around my middle that wasn't there before...thank you, Tamoxifen!
The fear of it returning is ever present, at the back of my mind.
BUT...I survived!

So often I read that a cancer diagnosis changes your life.
I wouldn't say it's radically changed mine, but what it has done is change my outlook on life and appreciate the important things.

Family, nature, the changing seasons...
Last year I wondered if I'd see the daffodils bloom again.
This year, I have immersed myself into the garden, my happy place, with my mini allotment, visiting hedgehogs and special cats.
It grounds me.

Emotionally, I'm back on an even keel, but no one emerges from chemo unscathed.
Both physically and mentally, you take a battering.
And it's the mental battering that takes longer to recover from.
Every niggle or pain becomes a ''what if''
Anxiety rears its head at unexpected moments, and a complete nights sleep is now just a distant memory.

But on the plus side, having my head shaved was liberating.
Despite it being one of my biggest fears I quite liked bald.
It grew on me, and I never wore a wig.
And you know what?  I may just keep it short!

Going through chemo and coming out the other side...it makes you stronger.
Tougher.
A survivor.

June 2018                                            September 2018

     

February 2019                    April 2019