Archives for posts with tag: running

IMG_5525No news is good news, right?

Well, it’s been a while since I’ve written a blog post, and that should be interpreted as a good thing. It means there has been no cancer news and no cancer treatment, apart from me trying to remember to take my daily doses of Tamoxifen, Vitamin D, fish oil, Co-enzyme Q-10, turmeric, ginger and 27,000 servings of vegetables…

Yep, I’ve been getting on with a thing called Life for the past few hospital-free weeks, and I have to say, I’ve been enjoying it. Yes, I am still tired from the chemo and radiotherapy and I do still look a bit like a peeled potato when I take off my eyebrow make-up, but otherwise I am infinitely hairier and simply happy to be alive, as you can see in the above photo of me and my team.

Those of you who don’t see me every day at work have been asking how my hair is doing, so here’s an up-to-date photo:

IMG_5578

And how do I feel about it?

1. I AM JUST SO HAPPY WITH MY HAIR.
2. I am so grateful to have hair.
3. I am thankful every day in the shower when it doesn’t fall out in my hands.
4. I know it still looks kinda bald from the back, but I couldn’t care less – I love it.
5. I can’t really describe to you how amazing it feels to have just this little bit of regrowth… But I have got a lot of my confidence back in these past few weeks and I feel fantastic.
6. I can’t stop touching it.
7. I could do with a hairbrush – one of those really soft baby hairbrushes.
8. Does anyone know where I can get one?

So that’s it on the hair front, really. I did also spend £50 on some sort of eyelash-strengthening product from Boots but I’m not convinced it’s doing anything at all. Strangely, my lower eyelashes are growing back thick and fast but my upper ones (i.e. the ones I could really do with having) aren’t growing back at all yet. And my eyebrows are growing back in totally the wrong place as well, but beggars can’t be choosers.

IMG_3217In other news, my friend Chris decided to take on the amazing Eddie-Izzard-esque challenge of running three marathons in three days in freezing cold conditions this very weekend, to raise money for the brilliant charity Coppafeel! on my behalf. This incredibly crazy challenge on the UK’s Jurassic Coast just happened to coincide with one of the coldest, wettest, rainiest, windiest, snowiest, blizzardy-est weekends of recent years, and led Chris to endure knee-height floods, mud, killer hills and all manner of chafing. Nevertheless, he has trooped right through it and here he is looking very dapper in his orange top and sexy pink Coppafeel! accessories!

At the time of writing, Chris has raised an incredible £1,388 for Coppafeel!, which raises awareness about breast cancer in younger women. However, it’s not too late to sponsor him! Please just click on this link if you’d like to donate to this extremely worthy charity.

882322_10152660363165627_1369138213_oWhile I can’t quite claim to have run 78 miles this weekend, I have reached a few little milestones of my own lately too. Last week, for instance, I went indoor climbing with my team and reached the top of a few easy routes. Each 5-minute climb was so exhausting and exhilarating that I came down trembling and panting for breath, but it felt like such an achievement to reach the top and just to be able to do the same physical activity my colleagues were doing. I’m definitely not back to the same fitness levels I had before chemo, but considering there were times during chemo when I could barely even stand up, I’d say this was a pretty awesome achievement. There I am, above, looking like a little spider at the top of the wall.

It’s not all fun and games, however. Next week hails my return to the hospital, for my 9-month check-up with the surgeon who saved my life. From reading a lot of other cancer blogs in the past few months, I know my fellow surviving sisters tend to get extremely panicked about these check-ups, thinking a new lump is going to be discovered and they’ll be summoned back to hospital for endless months of stomach-wrenching chemo. Thankfully, I am not a worrier and my positive thinking tells me everything is going to be just fine. (Though keep your fingers crossed for me, just in case!)

New Year, new cancer treatment…

Rounds of radiotherapy done: 3

Rounds of radiotherapy to go: 30

Feeling: Pretty good!

I arrived at the Herbert Wing of St. Vincent’s hospital, Dublin, on Jan. 2 for my first radiotherapy session and was shown almost straight away into one of the radiation rooms (unmissable due to the above sign). Inside the big, spacious room full of machinery, two lovely Irish ladies explained a little about what they were going to do, while I stripped off my top half and changed into the attractive and somewhat Christmassy white robe with red and white patterns (you can’t quite see the Christmassy-ness in the below photo). I then lay on top of the platform/bed you can see in the photo and put my arms into the red arm-rests above my head while the two of them fiddled around with machinery and called out various different numbers. (A lot like being at the dentist’s).

I’m lying on my back and can see three green laser beams – one directly above my head and one to the left and right of the room. These green laser beams line up exactly with the mini tattoo specks in the middle of my body and on my left and right sides, and this in turn lines up the equipment. Once it was all lined up, the girls quickly exited the room and proceeded to control the radiation machinery remotely (so as not to zap themselves in the process).

In the below photo, you can see the large machine above my head. The round plate thing detaches from this and rotates into different positions while giving me the radiation from a sideways position so as not to give too much zapping to my lungs and heart. It spent maybe five minutes on my left side and five minutes on the right side, while I just lay there, still as a sleeping lion, listening to One Direction on the CD player, having a whale of a time. (I had read in one of the radiotherapy booklets that you can take your own CDs for them to play while you wait, but frankly with the likes of 1D on the menu, I don’t think I’ll be needing to.)

After about 10 minutes, it was all done and I got dressed again and headed home. Meanwhile Mum, who came with me for the first few days and has now gone back to England, made friends in the waiting room and managed to get the entire verbal Tourist Guide to Dublin from the very friendly pal of a fellow patient.

On Jan. 3, I went back for round two. This time I was in a different room and Duffy was playing on the CD player. Two different lovely Irish ladies (I think they said there are five in total, so I knew I’d have met them all by day three) fiddled around with the machinery this time and called out the numbers, then they fled for about 10 minutes while the machines buzzed around me and I got radiated.

Jan. 4, much of the same. I was in room two again and Duffy was still on the CD player (I fear they peaked with One Direction on Wednesday and nothing else they play will ever live up to it). This time, the girls were back in the room within about five minutes and I said “That was quick!” It turns out the part where I’m receiving the radiation only takes about two minutes. Radiation is measured in units called “grays” and I have two grays each time. Two grays, it seems, takes about two minutes to deliver, and this time they didn’t need to take any photos with the machine, so I was in and out faster than Duffy could warble something about Warwick Avenue.

And that was that. I get the weekend off then it’s more of the same for the next six weeks, every single week day. The main side effects of radiation are extreme tiredness – which I’m told will get worse and worse, peaking about two weeks after the last session (i.e. beginning of March), and red, sore, burnt skin in the area receiving the radiation. This takes a couple of weeks to kick in, so in about two weeks I’ll have a really red, burnt, painful breast to look forward to! I can’t use deodorant (so apologies to my workmates if I stink) or underwired bras or perfume around the area, and I have to lather it in pure aloe vera gel or E45 cream twice a day. I already feel like I have a little ‘prickly heat’ in the area, but it may just be the association effect of the aloe vera gel, which I only ever use when I’m sunburnt.

Apart from that, it feels great to be back in Dublin and back in my apartment, living a more ‘normal’ life. Yesterday I went for my first run since the end of June – I ran about a mile and didn’t die, so that’s progress! A week or so ago, I could barely walk up a flight of stairs without nearly keeling over, so my fitness is coming back fast.

Despite the fact that chemo finished nearly six weeks ago, I am still bald as a baby and looking a bit like a baby chick again with short hair at the back and sides but nothing on top – not a good look! I’m hoping it will start growing back as proper ‘stubble’ soon and I’ll be able to go out sporting the Sinead look, but for now I think it’s wigs all the way… Roll on the next six months so I can have my pixie back!

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