4. Boxy in boobless shocker

So. Big day today, and not all the answers I was expecting or hoping to hear. But I’m still feeling strong and believe that, despite the challenges to come over the next few months, we’ll get through this.

So what happened today?

Well no biopsy, for starters! Aside from the relief of not having that painful anaesthetic again (hurt like hell last time!) they felt it wouldn’t actually give them much more, and because of the next update, would actually not be as straightforward as it was last time. Read on…

The next update – it’s not in my boob

So when they told me the second lesion they found on the CT scan was ‘on the edge of the radiation zone where I was treated before’, I assumed this meant in my boob. Its not. It’s actually in my lung, close to my heart. Fucker. 

This doesn’t change how they’ll treat it – still either surgery and/or radiation, but seeing it on the scan and realising that a second little cell had escaped and lodged itself in my lung was a shock I wasn’t expecting, and yes, I needed a tissue! But in my usual fashion, I quickly went into processing mode, and started asking questions about what this all meant.

Put simply, it doesn’t change much in terms of treatment, it’s just a mental fucker to hear you’ve got a lesion in your lung. It’s about two cms in size so not massive, and being close to my heart means when they radiate, I’ll just need to increase the gap between there and my heart like I did before. That’s easy enough “breathe in… breathe out…”

So what’s the plan – how do we nail the Fockers?

Dastardly (in my brain) needs targeted radiation to take out his wheels and render him as useless as a pit stop without a crew. 

Mutley (in my lung) could get the same, or could be removed surgically. This is what they’re discussing with the lung surgeon and is tbc.

But there’s also another option, which is to include me in a chemo trial they’re currently running. This would both reduce the Fockers and give my system another clean sweep, to take out any other potential stray cells anywhere else. It’d be 3-6 months of intensive injections (like I had before), I’d lose my hair again (no biggie, growing it back’s been fun), and the obvious potential side effects that come along with the ride (I was lucky to sidestep much of this before, but this drug is stronger and I may not be so lucky second time round, but we’ll worry about that if it happens).

I meet the eligibility criteria for the chemo trial, but they want to check if there’s any reason I should not do it, before confirming whether to include it in the plan. So jury’s out for now. But my trusty gut is telling me they’ll probably say go for it, and if they make that decision based on it helping my chances, I’ll do it. Just hit the Fockers with everything my body can take, and as Lewis Hamilton would say #stillirise. It won’t be pretty but cancer never is. I just need to focus on the endgame and the progress we can make in reducing its horsepower along the way. 

The final blow – the hand

As the steroids I’ve been taking have still not kicked in, I asked her if the damage to my hand is permanent – her (typically Dutch) direct reply? I think so, yes. Ouch. Lifestyle changes then. But again, I’m not focusing on that, I’ve a bigger battle to fight first, albeit a tougher one with only one usable hand. But we’ll go at it with my one good hand and plenty of others from my friends and family! People get through worse and adapt to work with it, so I’m sure we can do the same 🙂

So what next?

The team will reconvene on Tuesday to agree a) whether to do chemo, b) the order of treatment, and c) a start date. And they’ll share this with me next week.

I’m therefore now considering whether to take a holiday before we go into battle. 

If chemo is first, I’d like to go away – chemo stops me traveling, saps my energy, strips my cells, ruins my skin and generally makes me feel like shit. So getting a hit of sun, sand, the sound of the sea and relaxation could be good therapy before hell lets loose.

If we don’t do chemo, I go straight to radiation and surgery. This would reduce the physical impact of my treatment, as well as the timescales, making a holiday less important to me at this point. 

The challenge is, without knowing whether we’ll do chemo, I can’t make that call, and I won’t know about chemo for sure until next week. 

My heart is telling me to go – it’d only delay treatment by one more week, and the benefit I’d get from it could be more valuable to me.

The doc will call me this afternoon to see what I want to do – she said they can always call me with their plan next week, and we could start treatment when I get back. But she also said that, after their discussions on Tuesday, treatment could actually start next week.

Decisions decisions – in the grand scheme of things, I’m sitting in a cafe in Amsterdam, having just asked the hot waiter to cut up my food for me, trying to decide whether to book a holiday next week or start cancer treatment… lmao! Not your average Thursday lunchtime I guess! But since when was I ever normal?

But the sun is shining in Amsterdam and I am still smiling… hope you guys are too.

Big love peeps!


9 thoughts on “4. Boxy in boobless shocker

Add yours

  1. Thx for the big day update. You are moving so fast…and lots of people have their food cut up for them. Oddly enough, I do it for my husband (another story for another time). Sitting here awaiting a call from one of my medical minders (P.A. that looks after my ICD implant). It went off last night….so I dropped onto the bed, chewed the 3 adult aspirin, queued up my med history, and waited for the ‘donkey kick’, that didn’t arrive (good news). This morning I’ll have it interrogated, yes that’s the term they use. For battery life and lead stability. It’s always something. My vote; take the trip, eat the cake, have the Mint Julep
    Robyne R

    Liked by 1 person

  2. You seem remarkably focussed despite the significant set backs. I think you have the right mindset to overcome all these dreadful experiences that you have had/are experiencing. You need to get your blog published and then out to a wider audience. Perhaps even TV/Radio? Undoubtedly we are each unique but there will be someone around who has experienced some of your problems and overcome them and can share their thoughts with you. Keep on trucking Bok.
    LoveJ and J

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Boc, d’you remember singing at my wedding 16 years ago tomorrow? Loved it! Saw your lovely Mum and Dad last week. Sending strength and sunshine your way.
    Have the holiday.
    Get the blog to a wider audience. You’re an inspiration and your strength and optimism are a tonic.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. You really are one amazing human being and your positivity is just amazing!

    (I’f we’re voting by the way, I say holiday!!)

    Stay strong our kid!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Wow, that was a huge amount to take in and process all in one day but unsurprisingly you are kicking the arse out of the unwelcome visit by dastardly and mutely and marching in regardless. Truly inspiring.
    If you close your eyes you can feel that lovely warm sun on your skin, see that calm blue sea calling you and feel that sand in between your toes….you need to be there #passportready #justdoit xxx

    Liked by 1 person

  6. You are one strong, remarkable lady, Rebecca. Trev and I are thinking of you and wishing you well. We’ll look out for mum and dad too. Take care love Annie. Xx


  7. I think holiday …
    You are great and strong … I had a silly do with my hand due to MS relapse but where there’s a will there’s a way xx
    Need a pic of the dishy waiter 😊
    Stay strong 😘

    Liked by 1 person

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