Broken Dreams...

This post is a little different to the others. It's not about an actual event during my cancer journey, it's about emotions. Part of it was written during my treatment in 2017, and parts have been added over the years, up to today. Some readers may find parts of it very emotional . I debated whether or not to publish it, but given that it is such a huge part of my life, I feel it is important to share it. 

Is it possible to miss something that you've never had? 

Is it possible to miss and grieve for someone you've never met? 

Someone who never actually existed? 

Well, I can tell you with absolute certainty that the answer is a resounding YES!

I consider myself absolutely blessed to have a niece and nephew, "adopted" nieces and nephews, and God-children.  I love each and every one of them with all my heart. I would do anything for them! I don't get to see them as often as I would like, or be there for all their milestones, but my heart bursts with love when I do get to see them.
When an innocent child puts their arms around your neck and hugs you tightly, it is one of the most wonderful feelings in the world. Or to hold a little baby who depends solely on you and give them a cuddle... Words don't do justice to those amazing emotions!

I grew up with the belief that you should work hard and always try to follow your dreams. Since I was about 4 years old, I dreamt of becoming a doctor. Twenty years later, I was conferred with a degree in medicine. I had achieved my dream and would be able to spend the rest of my life in what I felt was my dream job.
When I got to this stage in my life, I dreamt of my future from there. What would I like to specialise in? Where could I see myself in 10 years? Could I travel the world, swim with dolphins and watch the sunrise over the Taj Mahal? Could I get a motorbike? Would I be able to find the perfect man? Would we be able to buy a house with a red front door and a view of the ocean? Would we be able to become parents and teach our children to grow up with faith, hope, dignity, kindness and love?

Well, there you have it - a succinct list of my dreams! And I am blessed to be able to say, I've managed to achieve so many of them, apart from two: we've put the red front door on hold for a while as we struggle to cope with the knowledge that we will not be able to bring children into this world.

From early in our relationship, Fergus and I always talked about having a family. We had "planned" to adopt and also to have our own "biological" children. We would joke wondering if our little ones would have Fergus's ears or my nose? Would they be tall or short?  Would they be mischievous like their parents? We even had names chosen!
But one day, I went to hospital, and that was taken away. Not just the opportunity to get pregnant, but, given the advanced stage and aggressiveness of my cancer, would I be around long enough to adopt and become a parent?

If you look at the survival figures for patients of ovarian cancer, the average 5 year survival rate is 35%. Essentially - I have a 65% chance that this cancer will kill me by 2022! And given that my cancer was more advanced, the figures are probably worse for me. As for 10 year survival rates? Well.... I'm not going to go into them.

Am I being selfish by wanting to adopt a beautiful, vulnerable little child only to die and leave them again in a few years? Am I selfish knowing that there is a distinct possibility that Fergus would be left alone to raise a family? Or, am I being selfish if we don't adopt and thus leave Fergus alone? These thoughts run through my head multiple times a day, and sometimes, multiple times an hour.
Seeing an add on the TV for Pampers Baby Nappies can trigger them... Seeing a child playing on the beach or a mum pushing a buggy can often trigger them. Movies, soaps, books, shops, even when I see long scar that runs down my tummy... there are reminders everywhere! Reminders of broken hearts and shattered dreams.

So if you are reading this and are blessed enough to have children, or perhaps even grandchildren, then hug them a little closer today. Be thankful for such an amazing gift! I know it isn't always easy, but it is indeed a blessing and a privilege to become a parent.

The Aftermath

Before you read this piece, you should know that it goes into detail about some of the negative side effects I experienced  on chemo and is a little upsetting. BUT the second half of this is about all the good things that happened during that time too, and believe me, there were good times!

People have often asked me what it's like being on chemotherapy. It's different for everyone. Some seem to sail through it relatively unscathed, others have an agonizing time through it all. Being honest, I would have to say for me, it was a bit of a mix of both.

It transpired that the aftermath of the first session was one of my harder times and this is often the case for most cancer patients. This is because, as everyone responds differently, it can take the team a little time to balance out the right amount of anti-sickness and pain meds.  I was scheduled to have chemo every 3 weeks, always on a Monday, two different drugs, generally over an 8 to 9 hour period. The first session itself went smoothly but I was nervous and wary each day after, waiting for side effects, waiting for the unknown in many ways.

Truth is, I was mostly ok for the first two or three days. But by the weekend, things were a bit rough.
As part of the chemo regime, they give you a whole heap of drugs to take for after you get home. They also give an another injection a few days after the initial infusions. This is to activate your bone marrow to produce more blood cells in order to replace the ones the chemo is killing off inside you. I used to know instantly when that process - known as haematopoesis -would begin. I would get pain in my bones, usually my shins, thighs and breast bone, which used to be excruciating at times. During these times, I would just curl up in the fetal position in bed, hold my legs into me and cry. I had good strong pain killers but they only added to the nausea so I couldn't take them.

The steroids I had to take, in massive doses, meant I couldn't sleep and I used to crave salty foods! I often sent poor Fergus out at midnight to get me Supermacs chips! The hospital had put so much emphasis on the importance of eating that he would have gone to the moon and back just to get me food! It's a false appetite though caused by the high dose of steroids, and once I'd eaten, I'd feel sick again. Then to add to it all, I had  been suddenly plunged into menopause so the hot flushes were happening with increasing frequency and severity, and adding to my insomnia. On the rare occasions I would sleep, my dreams were dreadful. Full of darkness, fear and the most irrational of scenarios!

The pain of being plunged into infertility, and in such a short space of time however, is one that I cannot find the words to describe. I felt, and now 3 years on still feel, that pain every waking moment. A Pampers add on tv... a mum pushing a buggy in the shops, a parent playing with their little one in the park or on the beach, that look you see in a mother's eye as she lovingly and carefully watches her child play... I look and wish I could be that mum. I won't call these things "reminders" though as that would imply I forget sometimes! I never forget! Even my sleep is often shattered with nightmares that I cannot bring myself to type. I did try typing them here, but I have to be honest, I deleted them. Dreaming about them is one thing, but seeing them in black and white...well I can't. Fergus often shares in this with  me. He is so quick to flick to another channel if there's a Pampers add on! And he often holds me at night when I wake myself up crying, shaking and sometimes screaming. Even the 2 furbabies get up on the bed when this happens and cuddle up with us!


One of the highlight of the bad days was sitting (yes sitting!) on a stool in a cool shower, then changing into fresh PJ's and fluffy clean sheets every day! It really is the simple pleasures that make the most difference.
I wasnt allowed to use any scented cosmetics for fear my skin would react as the chemo was to make it very fragile. I had to use childrens tooth paste and tooth brush otherwise my gums would tear and bleed. I couldn't wear my favourite perfumes.
But one thing I insisted on every day was to put in earrings! I rarely wore a watch then as time meant very little.

The other highlight - tea! Yes, I became hooked on tea! First thing in the morning, and last thing at night! I must have driven Yvonne and Fergus cracked the amount of mugs of tea they had to make for me!

The 'really bad days' lasted for about 5-7 days or so, and by 2 weeks after the chemo, I would start to feel better again. This was pretty much the cycle that followed for the entire 8 sessions. (I was initially just meant to have 6 sessions but that's a story for another chapter). Then, just by the time I would be starting to feel human again, it was time to go back in for another round...

But knowing that the 3rd week of each cycle was going to be my 'good week', I would plan to try do things that week and get out and about. And let me tell you, I have some interesting stories to tell you about some of those escapades!!!  But they're definitely for a later chapter!

We also experienced many blessings during the chemo journey. Yvonne was an absolute lifesaver and had practically moved in with us at this stage thankfully. Fergus still had to work and, as I didn't get paid from where I worked, we were reliant on his wages to get us through. I cant even begin to imagine how difficult it must have been for him to leave for work on the bad days... he has this unique quality about him of being one of the strongest yet kindest gentlest people I know. He was, and still is, my rock. He is my reason for fighting.

Fergus's sisters were also truly amazing and so were so many of our friends. We would regularly get dinners dropped off on our doorstep. Or books, fabulous flowers, filtered water, DVD box sets... even the local florist and I were on first name terms - with him often holding off on delivering me flowers for a week or two as I would have already gotten a few that week. He even brought me vases! Our house was full of beautiful blooms for months!

As for Betty, well she never left my side. She continuously lay beside me wherever I went. She usually loves her walks, but, she was even reluctant to leave me for them! Such unconditional love. In fact, when I was told I would be having chemo, the first question I asked the nurse was if I could still have the furbaby in the bed with us! She laughed and said, usually the first question people ask is, will they lose their hair! That was my second one! I'll tell you more about that further on. 

That outpouring of sheer goodness and kindness from everyone was what got me and Fergus through this. They say every cloud has a silver lining - I think ours was made of solid platinum!

Thankfully, the pains, the nausea, the abdominal cramps and the insomnia were pretty much at their worst after that first session. When I went in for round 2, I told the team, and they gave me a new concoction of meds that definitely helped to take the edge off a lot of those side effects. Gone are the olden days of hanging onto the toilet bowl heaving and retching thank God!

I do hope that I haven't over-shared in this entry. I don't want to lie and paint the picture that chemo is a walk in the park as that would be unfair on people heading into this journey. Equally, I don't want to be alarmist and scare people. The reason I told you all this is to reassure you that, even though there are bad days, there are people and medications there to help. It doesn't have to be all bad! And, as this blog fills out further, and I will regale stories of outdoor music concerts, front row orchestra seats, being ushered to the top of queues, shop discounts and ending up in the ED having fallen off my door step, you will realise that for every dark day there is, there's a better one waiting around the corner. Like John used to say,  chin up, fight to the bitter end.

With John for a cuppa 

John's messages, as he travelled his own cancer journey, used to get me through a lot of those bad days.  

Nothing is all bad...x

Part 2 , Mum and Dad's 50th Wedding Anniversary - July 2017

Killary Harbour Fjord Cruise

People have often complimented me and called me "strong" and "inspirational"... And while I am so grateful for the support and encouragement, I have always said that my strength comes from those around me. My parents in particular deserve a mention here. Growing up, we probably weren't the most financially well-off in the village. Yet, I can honestly say that I never needed for anything! Wanted - maybe yes; but what kid doesn't? But "needed" - no! Never!

 Both my parents worked hard from a very young age. I grew up in small village in a petrol station/village shop; the only one for miles around. We were open 7 days a week, 364 days a year. My dad worked since he was a young teenager as a builder and carpenter with his brother as well as owning a small farm. So, it was a busy house! But from a young age, Mum and Dad taught me to never give up. No matter what life may throw at you... no matter how many times you may fall... no matter how much it may hurt, always get up again! Or, at the very least, try to get up! They have been through a lot in their 50 years of marriage - good times and hard times. They lost people they love... They worked hard. They faced all of life's challenges as a team and they never gave up! So, when people call me strong, I think of them and of how strong they are! That is where my "strength" began.

Kylemore Abbey

Walled Garden at Kylemore Abbey

For their 50th anniversary, we decided to bring them on a mystery tour to celebrate. We planned to bring them somewhere a bit more 'extravagant' but I was too sick to travel out of the country so we decided to have a "staycation" for now instead. We chose Westport in Co Mayo, one of their favourite places.

Mum and dad were like two kids at Christmas in the back of the car as we headed off on our mystery tour. They both love Westport so when Fergus drove into our hotel there, they were delighted!

There was Champagne in the room for mum and dad - a bottle for each of the 2 nights we were staying as my Godmother Brid had also arranged for a bottle for them. We got changed and prepared to go out for dinner. I decided to put my wig on for the very first time. I remember at that time, I felt I looked nothing like myself! Now as I look back at this photo, it doesn't seem so bad.

We spent 3 lovely days going for drives, lunches out, visiting local sites, short walks, eating ice-cream and wandering in and out of little local craft shops. It was so lovely to spend such quality time together. The last time I had stayed in Westport with mum and dad, Dad and I climbed Croagh Patrick... this time, climbing a stairs was hard enough! But some day please God in the years ahead, Dad and I will climb it again!

Happy anniversary Mum and Dad - love you both so much, xxx

chemo 31 July 

Round 3, My New Perspective 10 July 17

10th July 2017

 

Well it had been a busy few days on my good week prior this cycle. Now it time for chemo session number 3! Fergus had wanted to be able to come to all the chemo sessions with me but I told him that wasn't necessary at all. This week, he ended up having to go into work. But rather than have me going through it alone, Yvonne came in with me instead. Between the two of them, they have me totally spoilt! I reckon if it was possible to wrap me up in cotton wool and bubble wrap, these two would have done it! 

It was Yvonne's first time in the oncology day ward and it must have been very overwhelming for her. But if it was, she didn't let on. She simply carried on as normal as if we were just walking to the local shop! She was "unshakable", just like Fergus. And believe me, that is the kind of person you want by your side when you find yourself in these situations. In fact, it was only months later, in subsequent conversations, she described the place as "clinical", "hard", "drab", "cold", "terrifying" and "emotional". But her steadiness and her encouraging smiles did well to conceal her frightened and breaking heart inside.

I remember my first impression of the place - it was a place of huge contrasts. Gently smiling, kind faced staff were in stark contrast to the signs on walls and drug trollies warning about highly toxic potentially lethal medical agents. These same medical agent that were about to be pumped into my veins however were supposed to save my life? The nursing staff wore so much PPE to administer the medications that they looked like they had walked off the set of some alien horror movie.

aprons and mounds of protective equipment they had to wear when handling the hightly toxic drugs. The gentle blue of their comfortable looking scrubs was overwhelmed by the bright yellow "sharps buckets" they carried around with the menacing skull and crossbone warning labels indicating 

At this stage, even though it was only my 3rd time here, I felt like a regular and I saw it very differently! To me, it is a special tertiary clinical setting where everyone in there was fighting to stay alive and well! There were no "heart-sink hypochondriac" patients here.  Everybody here had a diagnosis that nobody ever wants to have... "The big C"... We were all here to fight it, We were all here to fight to live. I saw it as more of a "positive" place rather than the stereotypical sad, worrying and depressing oncology ward. 

   It is astonishing how quickly you become familiar with the place... familiar smells, familiar sounds, especially the constant beeping of the i.v.infusion machines as various different kinds of chemotherapies are pumped through kilometers of veins throughout the ward. I'm greeted cheerily by the familiar faces of patients and staff, some of us are already on first name terms. I've already got my "favourite seat" - usually it's the corner one in the larger ward. I never liked the smaller quiet rooms as there were less people to talk with. Even on the days where I didn't want to talk, the silence of those smaller rooms was amplified in my head and all I could hear were my own worries and fears  swirling through my head. Somehow, there was a strange comfort being in the room with 6 other patients, each individually going through their own battle. We were all in our own individual ships - but we were essentially going through more or less the same storm.

 I would have been lost without Fergus and Yvonne. I often feel guilty (even to this day!) at all the pain I have put them through... of all the pain I have put ALL my loved ones through. I know it's not my fault that I got cancer... But I also know that watching those you love suffering and feeling powerless to ease their pain is one of the hardest agonies to bear. I don't know how they did it, and always with a smile on their faces. I will never forget the love, the support, the kindness and all the things they did for me - big and small! 

Before cancer, Fergus used to laugh that on our days off, I was always planning excursions or activities. Anything from camping, boat trips, mystery tours, family dinners, to just days walking around Galway. He used to joke and ask if a day off could actually mean a "day off" - just relaxing watching movies on the couch and chilling. I would laugh back and say "yes" - but only if a day came where one or both of us was unable to get up! Little did either of us know how soon that would ring through for us.

 

There were days I didn't have the energy to shower - but they were there to help me. Some laundry days, I barely had the energy to wash a dish towel, but they did it for me. Our hoover was cordless, but some days, even that was too heavy... so they did it. It's difficult to describe the type of fatigue you experience going through cancer treatment. It's the kind that a nap doesn't help. It's the kind where even the thoughts of taking 10 steps can feel like someone's asked you to do a marathon! They say this fatigue can last form 6 months to 20 years according to different studies. I'm now 3 years on and thankful to say, it's certainly not as bad as it was back then during treatment. But I am sad to say, it is still a huge part of my life and is there, in no insignificant way, every single day. 

More Chemo, Less Veins and a Bucket! 7th July 2017

My veins are getting weaker and weaker now and some of them have become sclerosed from the chemo. It was at this point, I regretted not getting the portacath put in! So, the new routine is: wear every layer of clothing I can find on my way to the hospital, put a hot water bottle on my arms, drink a big mug of hot tea and basically, arrive to the hospital well hydrated and sweating like a pig so my veins would be a little earier to find. This is them completed by bathing my arms - up to armpits nearly - in a bucket of the hottest water I can tolerate. Then Bingo! Chrissie comes along and boom! In with the cannula! Relief!

Round 2 6th Jul