A Time to Exhale

You never know how much you are holding your breath until the time of release. This was proven to me once again yesterday when I went for my first mammogram after my treatments.

I well remember the last time I went to the specialist radiologist. It was before I started chemotherapy. They had to insert a V-marker at the core of the tumour so it will be easy to measure shrinkage after treatment.I was a surreal moment as it further confirmed my new status as cancer patient.

But today was different. I walked in filled with hope. It’s been six months since the last radiation and it was time to do the mammogram and the ultrasound scan. The previous week I did my blood test. Today felt like the proverbial day of reckoning.

What made me feel even more anxious is the fact that somewhere along the way during my treatment, I did it my way. I followed the unbeaten path in full hope and faith that the body was designed to heal itself and that in nature there less harmful ways to treat the body beyond than the destructive actions of chemotherapy. But, as with everything else, there have been moments of doubt. Today was the day I would find out if my gamble, as it seemed, had paid off.

I did the mammogram first (am I the only one who thinks there must be a better to get the images besides squashing breasts like waffles?) and thereafter moved to the sonar room to wait for the radiologist. Dr S is a pleasant man and very comforting man. I remember him from my previous visit. He was comforting and he kept reassuring me that I had it in me to beat this cancer.

He came in full smiles and his usual warmth filled the room. My hope was raised. When he told me that my mammogram was clear, a slight yelp of relief escaped my lips. I dared to hope. As he probed further in all directions with the sonogram probe, he was literally singing praises and sending thanks to God. All I could give was a weak smile and nod. I wished S was here. He had wanted to change his work schedule to come with me but, tired of being a disruption, I had refused. I told him I needed him more the following day. I realised that I needed him now.

After the doctor had left, I lay on the bed a little bit longer and felt a warmth engulfing my body. My eyes stared to sting and the tears followed. In a daze I put on my clothes and made a quick exit to the car. The tears would not stop. As soon as I slammed the car door shut, I sobbed. I could not control myself. In between the tears and the praying, I texted S “MY BREASTS ARE HEALTHY.NO CANCER”. Within seconds he called me and he was also in tears. Again, I wished he was with me. In my not wanting to be a nuisance anymore, I had underestimated the impact the news will have.

It was not an easy drive going home. Tears of joy, disbelief and relief kept coming. As soon as I got home, I called my mother and my father and we all rejoiced at the news. I started sending texts to all who have been walking this journey with me. I looked at the first message I sent S and I realised it was flawed. By saying “my breasts are healthy. No cancer” I was leaving room for the cancer to take hold of other parts of my body. I was anticipating its return. Those who have done the dance with cancer know this to be their (our) reality but I refuse to live in that space, in the shadow of cancer. I had to change that. So my next texts simply said “I AM CANCER FREE”, followed by dancing, high 10 and praying hands emojis.

Cancer took all of my 2015,a small part of all my 43 years in comparison, but it is amazing how much it has changed my life. Up to this day I refuse to say “I have or had cancer”. I was determined never to own this disease. But despite building these walls to protect myself ,I now find myself asking ‘What now?’ ‘Who am I now without the cancer?’ I have no answers. All I know is I did what I set out to do, I BEAT CANCER.

Thank you

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This Girl is On Fire

 

Not in a good way.

I am  in my fourth month of Zoladex and my struggles have taken a different form.I am happy to say my hair is growing back nicely,I have resumed my gym routine,although it has changed dramatically from what I was doing before,and I am back to my “normal” daily routine.

All will be good and normal if I  did not have the hot flashes and night sweats to deal with.The thing with this is there is no warning,no “move to the cold section of the store or swallow a block of ice I’m on my way”. Nothing.Zilch.Nada.

All I feel is extreme heat from deep within the belly that radiates quickly all over the body leaving me with beads of sweat and shining like a buffed Hart pot.The current heat wave that was our whole summer has not helped at all.

Normally,I am the first one to feel cold in a room,but now I’m the person walking around fanning myself like a 60-year-old woman.But wait,I am being turned into one! The cancer might have not taken my breasts but it is definitely eating away my womanhood.

Medically induced menopause is not joke.Yes I was getting to a stage called perimenopause which begins mid forties and can carry on until your 60s.It comes with its challenges but your body has time to adjust to the gradual and systematic changes unlike when it is accelerated medically.

It took just one month for my period to stop completey.I am sure my ovaries look like dried prunes already and I still have 2 more years of this horrible,scary injection.During these few months,I can not count the number of times I have woken up to change my night-clothes and bed sheets drenched in sweat or to turn the aircon on or to suck on an ice cube.Sometimes I wake up 5 times in one night when the assault comes.This constant sleep deprivation is evident in the now very pronounced dark circles around my eyes.I am Panda Woman🐼.

On the upside,I am alive.I seem to have escaped the horrible mood swings and depressive episodes that can cone with menopause.For that I am grateful.I live everyday in complete faith that the worst is over.That this is just a small hurdle in my road to complete recovery and conquering this cancer.

Lindi

💜💜💜

 

 

 

 

 

 

NUKED!

The five minutes or so I spend on radiation everyday have become my private prayer sessions. It started 10 days ago when each session was so unbearably painful my only hope was prayer. It’s not so much the radiation but the positioning of my arms on the tray since my arm is not fully flexible after the operation.

As I lay there, the sound of the machine becomes distant and I start my conversation with God. Initially the pain was so bad I would stop mid prayer and start singing, in my head, Kingdom Songs. When it got really bad I would mouth the words for fear of moving any part of my body, because with radiation you have to hold still, while tears streamed down my face.

These morning sessions have become so much a part of the radiation session that I can hardly wait for the oncology nurse to leave the room, switch off the lights and for the machine to start humming. The other day I almost said ‘Good morning Jehovah.”

Today, day 10, I wanted them to take a bit longer because I had not finished my ‘conversation.’ I was happy to realise that instead of listening to the pain of the stretch of my muscle or the annoying piercing monotone of the machine, I listen to my heart and speak to my God with my soul. The calmness that envelopes me far exceeds the desire to jump off the radiation table.

13 October

Last day of radiation. YEY!

Radiation was really nothing like chemo. Except for the slight toasting of my skin (thank you Mepitel) and a handful tired days, there is nothing to complain about. For the first time in this whole process there have not been any surprises.

But why does it feel like such a hollow victory?

I am still grateful for having come this far. The question is ‘Now what?” My life these last 10 months has been occupied with snatching my life away from the claws of cancer, and now that I might have succeeded in that, I am wondering what to do with myself.

I have a pressing need to shave my hair off in sympathy to my friend who has just been diagnosed with cancer, her second round. Actually I am numbed by her news.

 17 October

I do not wish to stay in cancer land. In fact I am happy that I have gone the distance and finished the race so to speak. But I am worried. Am I fit enough to join the land of the living?

Talking to DR C on my last week of radiation was very therapeutic. He has a gift of making me feel comfortable. It could be because he watched his mother conquer the disease and therefore has a personal experience of what it can take from a person. He seems to have an appreciation of the human behind the disease. I like that. When I talk to him I feel like an adult having a conversation with another adult, not like another cancer patient on the list.

We discussed how life is going from now on, how every cough or pain could send me spiralling out of control. I have thought about that because it had already happened. In May I had the worst RA flare up I have ever had and my first thought was that it’s metastasis. When my throat was feeling swollen, my brain rang alarm bells. I now basically live in constant fear of the cancer returning. How do I manage the paranoia?

I don’t know, only time will tell. What I know is that I plan to live as fully as possible. I am not go back to living as though I have all the time in the world. While my support structure is rejoicing that the treatment is over, I have a feeling I am just getting started another phase of life. One scattered with injections to put me into menopause before my time, repeated scans to monitor my internals, pills to try balance my whacked hormonal system- a life in remission. (I am not sure what to make of this word. To me it’s a word full of negative anticipation. I mean the flu comes and goes as it pleases, yet nobody says it’s on remission when it’s gone!)

Anyway, this new phase is also riddled with fear and questions .Is it really over? Will it come back? If it does, what shape will it take? When? Will I have the strength to do it all over again? How do I recoup the time I’ve lost? How has this experience really affected my caregivers? What about my children, are they at cancer’s reach now? How has this battle changed me? Can I give the same care to my loved ones, should it be demanded? It has become clear that I do not have the answers, and no amount of worrying will provide me with comfort. So I will bid my time and hope that the conquering spirit that pulled me from the abyss will pick me up again when I fall because there is always hope.

 

 

World cancer day

Celebrating survivors,honouring fighters and appreciating caregivers.
#wecanican#worldcancerday

4 Feb is World Cancer Day

Understand.Raise awareness.Support.
Cancer can be beaten.

Women on an Adventure

01 September

Last weekend I took a trip with my favourite ladies. I needed time to remind myself that there is still a reason to live and that there is still beauty around me. I have spent the last 8 months fighting for my life and fencing with cancer, I needed a reason to believe that there is a reward in this fight.

I needed to renew my strength and resolve which has all but left me post-surgery. A lot of negativity followed a couple of weeks after the surgery, all thanks to the cancer monster. As always I put on my mask and my best foot forward but the last two months have been the hardest emotionally.

Never in my dreams did I think I will be called to stare death in the face like this, not once but three times within a span of 2 months. The loss was three times too many such that when the Radiology Oncologist suggested we start radiation in August, I asked to please start in September. I am usually the kind of person who, when I know what needs to be done, wants to do it as quickly as possible and get it over and done with. But not this time. I yearned to recharge my body, soul and mind.

Cancer had battered me in so many ways I was afraid I was going to melt on the radiation table, even as I was being told radiation will be a walk in the park compared to chemo. Having learnt that cancer is the direct opposite of normalcy, my expectations are low.

I live in one of the most beautiful countries, South Africa so taking a trip is always a great experience. Having decided to make this a ladies only trip, I called on my closest people but unfortunately in the end only 2 could make it-my daughter and Nosipho. We decided we are enough. We settled on going to Mpumalanga and visiting the real touristy places. It didn’t matter that a couple of weeks before we had been there when our friends took S and I on a weekend away just to get us out of our regular life. That trip had been more about relaxing. I wanted a bit of adventure.

In our quest for adventure we set out on Friday without booking a place to stay. My daughter was not impressed with our non  attitude. The 4 hour drive was made short by the music we played, singing on top of our voices, the stories we told and the anticipation of the weekend ahead. Nothing could bring me down.

We set our base in the sleepy little town of Sabie. Finding a  place to dine proved to be a little challenge. We went to three places before we settled on … where I settled for wild boar stew, my first. It tasted a bit like pork only a little dense but very delicious. Against all advice we had shots of mampoer-another first. It lived up to the legend, it felt like  I swallowed flames. There was a group of tourists for Netherlands who kept asking for more. At R20 a pop it was nothing to them but I wondered if they will feel the same way the next morning.

Leaving our mark in Graskop

From Sabie where we were able to drive to  Graskop where we had legendary pancakes from Harrie’s Pancakes-nobody should die having not tasted Harrie’s pancakes. My daughter was brave to go on the Big Swing. I was ok with cheering her on.

We took the Panoramic Route to and stopped to view the Pinnacle, awe-inspiring God’s window, the magnificent Bourke’s Luck Potholes and we explored a few waterfalls which are plenty in the area.

 

 

Sunday came too soon and it was time to head back home. Taking the scenic route, we made one last stop at quirky and seductive Dullstrom. We shouldn’t have. The ambience of this one street town seduced us  to spending the night (or it could have been the whiskey tasting we decided on at Wild about Whiskey). Never the less, we did not regret our decision to sleep over because we had the most beautiful art on a plate (aka breakfast) at-wait for it; The Art of food– the following morning. I can not find words to describe the symphony of tastes that collided in my mouth that morning. It was an event.

I hold this the time we spent together in a very special part of my heart. For the few days I lived carefree in a bubble of love and adventure, I was healed.

Team Conquering Spirit: Zama,Nosipho,me

one of the many waterfalls

God’s Window

 

Whiskey tasting in Dullstroom

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Top 7 Life Lessons I Learned From Cancer

with Lindi

Talking to the people around me, I get the sense that I am not the only one who is not sad to see the tail end of 2015. It has been a rough year for me, many of my friends and family. It has been the year that kept flogging us, demanding more from us, and just as we thought we had given all we had, more was demanded.

I have surprised myself many times this year with my ability to keep giving to the monster that is cancer. Many times I found myself on my knees, praying and begging for relief and as soon as it came, something else followed hitting harder than the last time.

However, as with everything in life, there are many dimensions to every experience. There is the side that gives you lessons and if you open your heart and mind you come out on…

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Lindi 3-Chemo 0

“As a fine soldier of Christ Jesus, take your part in suffering adversity.” 2Ti 2:3

10 March

I walked into cycle 3 like a beast. Motivated, determined and ready to conquer. So far the last two rounds have been so different from each other you’d think I had two completely different treatments. I had no illusions but they say ‘Fake it till you make it’, and that was my determination.

The oncology sister decided they need to change the drip site today. This is to help my veins recover from the corrosive effects of the drugs. By now I know the drill, but it’s still not easy. My fear of needles has not subsided. After much probing, she located a suitable vein in the crook of my elbow. It’s tender and very painful.

I didn’t feel the initial high of the steroid as it rushed into my blood stream but an hour and half later I was tired as hell.

13 March

I feel like death. I wish I could sleep a long deep sleep and wake up two weeks later when I know I will feel a little more like myself. Even though it will not be long lived, it will just be enough to enjoy every breath I take.

I feel a lot like how I felt during cycle 1.The pressure in my ears is the worst because it gives the most horrific of headaches. My sinuses are inflamed and the nausea persists, even though I am taking every precaution to avoid it. I guess the effect of reduced immunity is rearing its ugly head.

I feel so close to the end but still so far. Thoughts of death are my constant companions.

14 March

I don’t understand how Jehovah thinks I can carry this through the end. He knows me best. I do not have enough faith nor do I have strength. How can He trust me to endure this to the end?

16 March

My whole body feels like burning sulphur runs through the veins.

17 March

Cycle 3 is cycle 1 on steroids. I can’t take this anymore. Dear Lord, please make it stop!

19 March

This is the best day of the week!

Today I had the privilege of receiving a shepherding visit from the visiting DO and his wife. It was the best thing to ever happen in my spiritual life. I had no concept of how deeply these visits can touch ones heart. I am grateful to Jehovah for such provisions.

The most touching moment was when I saw and felt how S was touched hearing somebody pray for him, using his name and asking Jehovah to strengthen our faith. It was at that moment that I felt Jehovah’s love and care more than another time. It was an amazing, eye watering moment.

There is so much detail I can put into this experience-the scriptures, the experiences and anecdotes- but that will take too much space and time. What I can say is that their visit left me determined to do my best not to let this defeat me. It left me feeling that Jehovah sees me and my struggles, he has not forgotten me and my family. It reminded me that I am part of the bigger struggle and I have a duty to perform as a ‘soldier of Christ’ in this war.

Thanks for visiting

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DEFLATED…Sort Of

13 NOVEMBER

Today I went for my first Zoladex injections (meds to ‘freeze’ my ovaries so the don’t produce oestrogen because this cancer is/was oestrogen+. In simple terms;meds to put me straight into menopause) As usual,I was under prepared.The size of that injection should have tipped me but no,I wanted it to be normal.

 

The needle that felt like a weapon cut through my stomach

It’s 2 hours after the injection and I am writing this lying,no curled,on my bed because of the pain.I can only lie on a certain position,if I try to move it’s painful.When I sneeze,cough or laugh it’s painful.

 

The fact that the doctor ordered anaesthetic patches and cream when I told her I am terrified of needles should have warned me that this is not a usual injection.But no, always being Pollyana,I ignored the signs.

But that is not the cause of my deflation.As I sat during the obligatory 2 hour wait at the doctor’s (don’t ask), I met and had conversations with two survivors who were doing the dance with cancer the second time around.

Now for someone who has just finished the rigorous and uncomfortable treatments to kill the cancer this is not a good thing.I sat there stunned,doing mental calculations as to how many years I have until I have to face the monster again.

On my right was a woman whose cancer returned within 5 years.She has had the chemo, surgery, radiation . She even fell pregnant and had a healthy baby.But here she was, back in Cancerville being an unwilling participant in this game of tag.The cancer had come back  on the breast that had cancerous tissue removed and was radiated.I was shocked and confused; was the purpose of radiation not to ‘sterilise’ the breast so that the cancer has no chance of coming back on the same side again?

Directly in front of me was another woman who now,ten years later was fighting for her life again.I wanted to ask her if it gets better the second time around but I was afraid of the answer.So I just sat there,listened to her story and cheered her on.Inside I was cold.

Of course this is on top of dealing with the fact that a close friend of mine is currently going through aggressive chemo to deal with  leukaemia which came 15 years after she finished her breast cancer treatment.

Right now I have my own cheerleaders, actually it’s a cheer team, who are honouring me everyday for being here 11 months later. I am grateful for their support and encouragement, however I hope they understand when sometimes I am not so full of cheer because I am learning that with cancer,it’s never really over.

An aching joint or bone may be a sign that the demon is back.A persistant sore throat may send you back to the doctor’s table because it could be metastasis. Relentless fatigue might be a sign of something more sinister,not normal tiredness like the average person.With cancer,you are never normal nor average again,not for lack of trying.

As it stands I have to wait 6 months to find out if I am cancer free.Six months!That is half a year of not knowing whether you are still carrying a deadly disease in your body.Six months of second guessing every ache and cough.So forgive me if I don’t jump for joy everytime you congratulate me on my health.Yes I am grateful that I am still standing but I will forever be far from being normal.

With this knowledge,am I going to walk on egg shells with a mask over my face lest I catch something? Never!

It’s getting clearer with every passing day how precious being alive is, so I am going to live my life to the fullest because I have no idea when I’ll be called to do my part in this drama I did not sign up for.I am more determined to fill up my days with life,real living and my nights with appreciation because every day is a celebration.No more waiting for special occassions to wear my heels and fine gowns,being alive is a special occassion.No more saving the best cutlery and dinner service for special guests,I am the special guest in my life.Despite all,I will be the poster girl of a life well lived!

Against all odds, against all logic my faith keeps me hoping.

Thanks for visiting
💜💜💜

Fresh Out Of Courage

13 August
Today I had a Radiation planning session. The initial appointment was cancelled after I told the nurse I can barely move my arm even though it was four weeks after surgery. She suggested we give it another two weeks and advised that I start doing some mobility exercises to get my arm moving. I had no idea what to expect, except that it was going to be painless and that I needed to hold a certain position for at least 30 minutes.
I was welcomed by super friendly reception staff. I was used to this friendliness and warmth of oncology staff so it did not freak me out like the first time I walked into what I termed ‘The house of horrors”. Having not slept well the previous night, I was not a ray of sunshine. I am ashamed to say I was downright vile to the sweet woman at reception who was helping me with admission. I complained, rightfully so, about the repetitive paperwork. However it was not so much about the paperwork but more about the way I complained. I whined really. I did apologise and explained to the lady that I am not usually like this. I suspect the combination of nerves and the relentless insomnia since the surgery was making me super cranky.
Not long after the tedious paperwork was finished I was called in. The sister asked me to change into a gown and come into the simulation room. It had metal bed and an imposing machine which looked like some type of a scanner. She told me to lie down so she could take measurements to help them position the radiation beams. She explained that it was imperative to hold still while she did all that because they would not want to damage healthy tissues by radiating the wrong place.
At that moment I wondered if it was only with cancer that harming and healing go hand in hand.
I had not thought much about HOW the positioning on the table part will work out. I should have because it turned out to be the most uncomfortable part of the whole experience. My wounds have not healed and my arm had limited mobility. I had to hold still for what seemed like forever but which was likely 20 minutes or so. Holding one position is challenging under normal circumstances. Try holding still while your body is contorted in some unnatural position using weakened muscles. Get the picture?
Seeing that I was already in some dark place, it did not take much to slide deeper into the hole. And then, as it usually happens in cancer land, the nurse told me she has to inject a dye in my body as a marker for the radiation beams for the future session, effectively giving me 3 tattoo dots. Surprise, needles!
Without further persuasion the waterworks opened. The flood of tears left the poor woman puzzled. She comforted me as she tried to explain how these were small, teeny weeny tattoos, dots the size of my freckles actually. It will probably not be that painful. She wondered if I was rejecting them on the cultural or religious basis. She assured me that they will not force me to do them if they made me this uncomfortable. They will have to move to pan B. I was inconsolable. I also felt silly, embarrassed and weak. I should have come with S to this appointment.

What the wonderful sister did not understand, and I could not explain at the time, was how exhausted I was feeling. Cancer had battered me in every way imaginable to me. I was still raw from the loss of loved ones taken by cancer. However it was the loss of self that was painful. Each poke and jab felt like a removal of a piece of my soul. Sitting there, in the face of the almighty cancer which drags you kicking and screaming to join the club you would rather miss, I felt helpless again. I was just tired of all the dead rabbits and dark balloons cancer kept pulling out of its hat. I wanted all of this to be over.NO MORE SURPRISES, PLEASE.
Just when I was regaining my composure, the sister tells me we will now go to radiography and take scans and a few x-rays in the position that I will be during the actual radiation. She tells me she will pack the tattoo kit just in case I feel stronger later so she can do the tattoos. She is determined this one. I on the other hand am fresh out of bravery.
While waiting at the x-ray department, I texted my troops and asked them to please pray for my strength. I was in pain; physically and emotionally. S wanted to come but I assured him I’ll be fine, it’s almost over.
The next 20 minutes on that machine were a cloud of pain and raw emotion. What started as praying turned to chanting pretty fast. Tears were streaming down my face uncontrollably and I continued to pray – no chant- Jehovah’s name. Now this was new territory for me. Yes I have said super short prayers before but not like this. I pray, I don’t chant.
Before long, it’s over. The sister came again with the tattoo needles, hopeful. I gave myself a good talking to, and with renewed vigour, I lay down. But the tears would not stop. Today it’s not happening. No amount of positive talk will pull me out of the dark hole. Mission tattoo aborted. The pity in her eyes angered and embarrassed me a little. But the cloud over my head was too big for me to care. I accepted that today, courage has left the building.
Reverting to plan B means she taped over the big red markings she has made with felt (I look like a walking target) and I am to keep the waterproof tape intact until radiation starts in September. If courage returns, maybe I will do the tattoos then.

Walked around with 3 giant crosses across my abdomen.No shower for 3 weeks 😥

Walking to the car all I thought of is how much I needed a strong drink and a big bear hug. As I stepped into the car, a message from one of my troops pings; ‘at least you had a name to chant. And to the right person who doesn’t mind at all’. I am humbled and grateful for my friends, my faith and my God Jehovah.

Thanks for visiting
💜💜💜