Number Thirteen:The Skidderz and I…

WARNING: I have been putting off this post as it could really be a ‘Well, you had to be there’ kind of affair! In which case we’ll have a very happy audience of two! (Plus Liz and Dr Love!)

Way, way back many centuries ago I was a fairly newly qualified teacher (with a lot of time on my hands now we come to look back on it!) bumbling through life in a middle school when into my classroom (and into my life) popped My Skidz. (She has earned this title by having one of the rankest senses of humour I have ever known for such a lady-like individual! Plus her surname is Kidd so it just works!) Hilariously she came to observe me teach- she was a student and I was the master- ahh, how times have changed! She is now ‘super career woman’ and I haven’t worked in more than a year (Looking likely that I’ll be back in the world of work about October time- sooner than I thought- so I’m happy!) So, anyway- the tables have turned and My Skidz is now an indispensable assistant head in her own middle school. We had our fair share of fun whilst working together for her NQT year- me disguising myself as a plumber and working on her radiator during my PPA- nothing can put her off her outstanding teaching you know! (and clearly I was fully planned, prepped and assessed to the max during this particular week as I had time to be dressing up and arsing about!)

Whiz forward a few years and I have one very fond friend- one I could call upon at the drop of a hat (she’s not my only one just the most available- read into this what you will!) On the eve of my first operation, (the lumpectomy- pah! How pathetic!) I had reason to call upon My Skidz. An evil winter vomiting bug had swept its way through our house and the capable, coping ‘usband you’ve heard so much about was last to be struck down, rendering him useless as hospital sidekick!  It had been three weeks since diagnosis, three weeks of badgering my loving other half about whether or not he’d cried yet!

‘Have you cried today? Did you cry when you thought about that? Will you cry when they put me to sleep?’ There was a brief moment during Disney’s Tangled when he claims he shed a tear but it was the putting to sleep bit that he had assured me would get his waterworks flowing- really not sure why seeing a grown man cry was so important to me but it was at the time- and now he was going to get out of it!!!

So, I suddenly had an opening… and the desire to sleep in a bed other than with the ‘vomiting one’! Lucky Skidz- she got the call and was at my front door in minutes.

An emergency sleepover and a Wicked sing-along car ride later and we were in the waiting area! The place was packed full of nerves… a lot of nerves- mainly about whether or not visitors would be allowed to stay- they’re very strict but My Skidderz assured me she’d stand her ground and stay as long as she could! The pressure had got to us a little by the time we reached the lift and the matron lady announced that visitors could come no further- all except me! Yep- they read my name out as being allowed a visitor and what did we do? We whooped with joy then studied the ground as we were instantly the most hated pair in the squashed lift! Slight lack of sensitivity towards my fellow patients- opps! Anyway- she was IN and we were soon settled in our own room. Not for long though because then Liz entered our lives- almost as giddy with excitement as the two of us she quickly asked us to take another patient under our wing. ‘You two seem so positive, I’ve got a really nervous lady out there, will you try and cheer her up on our way to the scan*?’ A challenge? Well of course!

*When I say scan… I in fact mean easy ultrasound followed by the most awful mammogram ever- it involved a hook being inserted into my boob to mark the depth of a second lump they’d discovered. Yep- a hook like on a fishing line- into my squished, clamped down boob, whilst my neck was forced into an incredibly uncomfortable angle by the evil mammogrammer machine! Oh yes- I’m all up for getting you to check your own boobs but you’ll not hear me crowing about the delights of mammograms I assure you!

So having jollied along our ‘other patient’ and had a second lump confirmed it was time to roll on the surgical stockings…photo opportunity of course! (Just wish my consultant hadn’t walked in as we were really messing about!) I honestly do not know what had got into us but we were just very over excited- our little way of dealing with the seriousness of the occasion? I think she was just trying to jolly me along too really because she also managed to take her role as information provider to sick ‘usband seriously- she was the one who passed on the news of the second lump- yep a second tumour- breast cancer… twice. Possibly not the easiest phone call she’s ever made.

Sadly My Skidz wasn’t in the room when Dr Love (I kid you NOT!) introduced himself- this was just too much for me and I actually had to be asked to calm down and slow my breathing in order to be put to sleep properly. I even asked to see his badge as proof and enquired as to whether or not there was a Mrs Love. I think the drugs were beginning to kick in at this point- well that’s my defence and I’m sticking to it!

Next thing I knew I was coming round and My Skidz was by my side armed with snacks, treats and a squeeze of my arm as we together surveyed the damage done to my chest- minimal at that point!

Now don’t be thinking that this was a one time deal- she’s been re-drafted in since. Easter School put pay to Rob coming to my chemo lesson but My Skidz was again by my side- armed with her famous notebook (she actually wrote 5 pages!) and logged the name of every member of staff in the Macmillan unit.

She’s a superstar and has well earned her iPhone icon of ‘Angel+Princess’ I give you… My Skidderz. P.S. Happy 30^th you lovely old lady you! Xx

Number Twelve: The Lucky One

To finish this week feeling like ‘the lucky one’ is really something indeed! I started the week a miserable, scared, ratty beast; continued the week a nauseous, fatigued lump and ended the week on a high surrounded by my friends and family. What a week!

Yesterday was my (rapidly growing) baby boy’s baptism. Despite starting chemotherapy we’d decided it was a good idea to go ahead with his celebration (we just made sure we delegated every aspect so we had nothing more than ourselves to worry about.) Cue HUGE thank yous to Jane, Ruth and the catering team! I’d also like to apologise to anyone who didn’t but should have got an invite- hasty text messages and word of mouth replaced formal invitations- surprising what you can get away with ‘in our situation’!

I am the lucky one because a ridiculous amount of people turned out to celebrate with us- as we arrived outside the church I assumed it was the glorious sunny day that had made the local pub so busy- it wasn’t- it was our amazing turnout of friends and family! This throng may have made the readers, caters and even the priest a little uneasy but how lucky we felt to be so well supported! (And with all that kissing and greeting at least I won’t know which one of you to blame any infections on!)

Inside and on to the main event; we are also lucky to have a priest who really does know how to put on a good show- he had his (not altogether particularly religious) audience oohing, ahhing and laughing out loud! He invited the little ones up to the front which they took full advantage of (spying a snail on the side of the font and causing much hilarity!)

The Snail Moment!

My baby boy was loving the attention of being up at the front and didn’t even cry at ‘the water bit’ (technical religious term I think you’ll find!) And then there were the godparents; Leanne and Emma- just goes without saying- from the very moment you were asked, you have taken your responsibilities very seriously- ridiculous excitement at the prospect of being on ‘Team Haz’! But Ian (Yep- here’s the special mention you’ve been waiting for!) I don’t think I’ve seen a man dote so much over my beautiful baby boy- you truly are his biggest fan and the perfect godfather! (Slight pressure on delivering a son this time Leanne!) So thanks to the Godparents Grove and to my Skidderz ‘Team Haz’ are a solid one indeed!

The next thank you goes to one of the very nicest ladies I know- my lovely head teacher- she gave us the run of the school hall, field and playground for the perfect place to continue our celebrations. (Especially perfect for games of Frisbee, Easter egg hunting and lounging around in the sun!) So when people were not busy complimenting me about what a lovely place to work this is, they were talking about what a wonderful service it was and what delicious food had been prepared. (Some of the cupcakes look suspiciously professionally baked but who am I to question?) I truly think my eldest had his best day on earth so far yesterday- He started the afternoon looking like one half of the smartest pair of brothers ever known- too cute in their matching suits but he ended it looking like the grubbiest chocolate covered urchin- never has a child eaten so much cake and had so much fun playing. (Shame he didn’t sleep in this morning!)

I do though feel I have to set the record straight- my husband said a few words thanking everyone for coming and for their support over the recent ‘difficult time’ but then veered off to talking about me- how well I’m coping blah, blah… The truth is I’m not really the one charged with coping with day to day life at the moment- he is. I only maintain my own basic hygiene and get myself (Sometimes rather stormily) from A to B, whilst he does the rest (which is a lot with two little ones believe me!) He even managed to bath and dress them both in the last twenty minutes before the service in order to ensure they remained smart enough for the all important photos! It reminds me of that saying ‘Behind every successful man is a woman’, it works both ways. So my final thank you goes to Rob. I am expecting us to successfully kick this thing but it’ll definitely take two of us! (Rob armed with his calm and confidence; me armed with my bronzer!)

So perhaps God was smiling down on us yesterday (who am I to put it solely down to luck?) but the sunshine and the snail did really set the day off- thanks for being there!

Number Eleven: The Race for Life (The one where I ask you for money!)

What choice did they have? As far as fundraising is concerned, I was diagnosed at the perfect time of year! With ‘The Race For Life’ AND ‘The Midnight Moo’ coming up, my friends couldn’t exactly refuse! One of the cancer perks is…people will do pretty much what you tell them! I have also instructed my friends to dress up in all my fancy dress costumes, they are yet to agree to that part of the deal yet but we’ll see!

My favourite quote is from Michelle’s Just Giving page…

‘I'm not a runner but my struggle to be able to run 10K is nothing compared to the struggle cancer sufferers have on a daily basis.’

I read this and straight away joked that by 7K she’d be begging for chemo instead! (You see- joking about chemo- clearly haven’t started it yet and in blissful ignorance!)

Feel free to add to their fundraising totals…

Michelle: I'm fundraising by for Cancer Research UK using JustGiving's website. Check out my page at http://www.raceforlifesponsorme.org/michellejcollier

Emma: I'm fundraising for Willen Hospice using JustGiving. Please take a look at my page: http://www.justgiving.com/emmakidd2804

I'm fundraising by for Cancer Research UK using JustGiving's website. Check out my page at http://www.raceforlifesponsorme.org/emmakidd2804

Kirsty: http://www.raceforlifesponsorme.org/kirstyouttram1608

Leanne: I'm fundraising by for Willen Hospice using JustGiving's website. Check out my page at http://www.justgiving.com/Leanne-Grove0

http://www.raceforlifesponsorme.org/leannegrove0581

So, chemo starts today- we’ll see by this time tomorrow if I still think it’s a laughing matter!!

Now what do you reckon they’d say to this? Maybe next year?

Number Ten: The Difference a Year Makes

I just cannot believe how much can change in a year! Things keep happening to make me take a sharp intake of breath and say. ‘Oh, my God, this time last year…’.

This time last year…my big boy was still in nappies and in a cot!

This time last year…I had long(ish) blonde(ish) hair

This time last year…I was getting ready to go on maternity leave!

This time last year…my best friend was just across the road (that’s as far as she’d been away from me since we were 5 years old) now she’s in Thailand!

This time last year… I did not know the beast breast had other ideas for my 2011 plans and this time last year I had 2 boobs!

 

This time last year…I had a baby bump as big as this…

This time last year…I had still not met my new baby!



It’s hard to look at a list like this and think that, apart from having the most wonderful birth and the most wonderful baby not much else has changed for the better! I do truly believe that having my second born does more than cancel out the bad news and I am thankful we had him when we did- any more of a gap and the beast breast might have taken hold and scuppered my plans for baby number two!

There are less dramatic changes that have taken place for the better. I’d never have thought a year ago that I’d like being at home rather than at work! Friends I’ve made more recently are just amazing and thank God; the terrible twos are behind us (my fingers are firmly crossed as I say this!).

Not to mention my Pandora… this time last year it was pretty empty!

So let’s look to the future (again, my fingers are firmly crossed!)

By next year I hope I’ll have …

taken up skiing again

booked a holiday (somewhere hot with a pool)

Cycled around Cornwall (in the sunshine please)

Seen Billy Elliot the musical

Done my sewing course

And my float glass course

Made a good start on growing my Rapunzel hair!



But… most of all I hope that I handle the terrible twos a little better second time around. (Go easy on me Harris!)

Lots of people have said to me ‘You never know what’s round the corner’… Corners? I think I might just keep going straight on from now on! (Who am I kidding? I’m WAY too nosey not to at least peek around every corner- shame there’s no turning back!)

 So the difference a year makes- guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens in the next 12 months… hope I can tick at least a few off my list!



Number Nine: The Young One

I’ve been getting really confused about where I fit in age-wise lately. I swing from feeling ancient, the oldest one, surrounded by bright young things to feeling like a bright young thing myself. Twice now I’ve been chatting to people, talking about where we both went to school before realising they were about 12 years younger than me! So that makes me feel old! At work; the staff are getting younger and younger (this is of course not true… it is me who’s getting older!) on a recent work night out I found myself gazing around a bar (feeling about ninety) and thinking thank God I am where I am in life. How I would hate to be out looking for boys now! And at what point do you drop into conversation that you actually have just the one boob? By the way the left one’s filled with gel! I keep remembering the episode of Friends where Joey throws that girl’s wooden leg on the fire- imagine the possibilities with a prosthetic boob! Agh!

Nope, give me a quiet bar any day, where there’s somewhere to sit and I can actually hear my friends speak! Throw in an early night and I’m all yours! Thank the lord I already have a husband who loves even the one-boobed version of me. ‘In sickness and in health’ he quotes at me anytime I have a wobble about whether he’ll still love me and how sorry I am he has a sick wife. I worry he’ll be freaked out when I have no hair. ‘I’d fancy you even if you had a poo on your head!’ He actually said that! I’m telling you he has a one track mind and no amount of boob or hair reduction will be putting him off! I digress…so anyway, nightlife- makes me feel old. Realising my younger sisters can pull off denim dungaree shorts but I cannot- makes me feel old. Steve Wright’s golden oldies are getting more and more familiar by the bloody day – making me feel old!

There is, however one place where I feel like the sprightliest of spring chickens… the Breast care unit waiting room. I gaze around this room and feel like a kid myself! I’ve even had to take my own magazines in to add to the waiting room collection so I have something to read each time I go. There are a couple of support groups I could go along to but judging by the group shot on one of the posters I’d be thirty years younger than the other members (this may not be a bad thing- life experience and all that). I just get the feeling that my main issue (coping with the beast breast treatment whilst having very young children) wouldn’t be something these older ladies could help me with. My boys are the only children I’ve ever seen in the waiting room (which due to its lack of children is excruciatingly quiet).

When they talk you through having a mastectomy, they show you the choice of fake boobs you can have. ‘There is a silicon one that folds over like a natural droopy breast.’ The lovely breast care nurse told me before looking up and informing me that she didn’t think I’d be needing that sort just yet. See? Spring chicken-me! She also told me to take care when fastening my brooch, not to pierce my silicon boob. I don’t wear many brooches but looking around the waiting room I’ve spotted a few so I can see why this advice is mandatory!  Apparently cat claws can also be a potential hazard but anyone who knows me will know how unlikely it would be to find me handling furry creatures- Michaela Strachen I am NOT!

I said before that I’m hoping my boys are too young to be affected by this beast breast thing. Children are funny how they take things in their stride. At three years old my eldest has been very matter of fact about the whole thing- no sympathy what so ever but he does demand so see my scar every now and again! ‘Oooooh, can I touch it?’ and at preschool one of the staff said he grabbed her boobs the other day and said. ‘Oh, you’ve got two boobs. My mum’s just got one!’ I was embarrassed to hear this story but she thought it was hilarious so no harm done. I wonder if he’s going to grow up more boob obsessed than the average male? 

The Young One - The Stats!

The Young One-Proof!
Since I found my lump in my early twenties I claming I'm in one in 15,000- makes me feel more 'special'!



It’s worth noting what a fab job CoppaFeel are doing raising awareness of breast cancer in younger women- check out their website for advice on getting to know your own boobies!

Because breast cancer knows no age.

So Ginger’s leg ended up as firewood- I’ll keep you posted on the adventures of my fake boob!

The Beast Breast Bulletin

So today (no more waiting- yippee!) was the next ‘big appointment’ got my results- just about all clear- one small patch of pre-cancerous cells which just proved as confirmation that a mastectomy was indeed the right decision! (What a clever team they are at the Breast Care Unit!)

Now I’m still no cancer expert (I prefer to focus on the hair and weight issues of treatment- Vain? Me?) But it turns out that my two tumours were different types of breast cancer. I think there are only 2 types- I just like to sample everything there is to offer. (Hummm think this may have got me in trouble somewhere before!) It would seem that having every type of cancer under the sun results in needing every type of treatment too- boo!

So here’s the list…

Firstly… a line will put into my arm so that the drugs can be pumped into somewhere near my heart!

Tamoxifen (Will induce menopause- slight problem as I can be a moody beast at the best of times- wonder if Tamoxifen will also induce divorce?!) Tablets to take everyday for the next five years- maybe 7-10 as I’m sooooo young!

Chemotherapy starts next Wednesday (Hair will be gone 3 weeks in!)

Herceptin this will last a year but can thankfully be administered in my own home (or even at work!) saving me hundreds in hospital parking fees!

There was some talk about giving myself injections to suppress my ovaries at this point but the order of things is still a bit of a blur! Have to admit I’m a bit excited about being an injector! One more skill to add to my set!

Radiotherapy will leave me exhausted after all the other treatment!

This would be a lot to take in even without the ‘Any more children planned?’ question. We were never planning any more babies but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to say ‘Yep, shrivel my ovaries all you like and I’ll just hope I remain in this frame of mind!’ I think we established early on I’m quite faddy and quite partial to changing my mind! I have been forced to confront every possibility- would I want another baby if…

a)     Rob dies and my new husband wants us to have children together

b)     One of my children dies and I don’t want the remaining one to be an only child

c)      I just change my mind (totally possible when my sisters/friends have more)

These may seem morbid and extreme scenarios but I defy them not to cross your mind if you were me!

Still, I’m taking my chances- fingers crossed two remains enough for me! I can take no more waiting (and no longer with this awful hairstyle!) there’s no time for egg stimulation or harvesting in my speedily moving plan. Sooner we start-sooner we finish and I can get on with my life with the two wonderful boys I already have!

Just to point out there is a slim possibility that I’ll still be able to conceive after treatment so I’m going with the ‘Whatever will be, will be’ school of thought!

I now have a ‘Chemo lesson’ to look forward to on Friday too- I certainly know how to kick off my weekend in style!

Right back to bed for me- filling my ‘waiting time’ with crazy busy-ness has left me exhausted! Night night. Xx

Number Eight: The Underwear

I said goodbye to my left boob, even gave it its own post on facebook- I thanked it for serving me well for 31 years, before realising that as a fairly late bloomer I’d probably only had about 11 good years out of it! And I reckon cleavage-wise it’s only since having children that there was even anything to see!  This thought prompted an underwear related stroll down memory lane… oooh the fun I’ve had shoving the boobs into various tops and dresses. The beauty of having little ‘uns is that in my youth they could be contained by the teeniest boob tube or little waif of fabric with a back and neck tie. (One reason to be glad I do not have daughters… I dread to think what my mum thought when I went out dressed in a square of material with ties I now more readily associate with the back of a hospital gown!) I have though found the perfect cleavage picture to document what once was!

Look at me pretending the photo is about the food not my boobs!

This photo was taken about five weeks after Harry was born; my boobs grew throughout the evening and were ready to burst by the time I got home to feed my baby!

My bra related story takes place at work; yep in a school- not the kind of place you expect underwear related stories to be set! (Not unless you’ve maybe lost said job!) In my old school we had a special day every year ‘Dads in school day’, all the dads were invited to spend the day in lessons with the children and the day ended with a big assembly where certain dads performed with their offspring on stage. This went on merrily for a few years until the dads got a bit too confident! My story takes place at the very end of the very last Dads in school day’, (you may see the connection!) well, on the way out of that very last assembly one (for arguments sake let’s call him stupid) dad thought it would be wise to walk behind me and undo the back of my bra! Now I’m no prude and had this happened in a club or bar I’d have elbowed stupid dad in the nuts and told him to ‘eff off, unfortunately I was surrounded by a class of Year Sixes so had to remain professional! (Very frustrating!)

My knickers related story is set further away in Corfu! (And long, long ago…when I was about 17!) Now, you have to understand that my mum had a bizarre habit of storing away any underwear that had seen better days so that all five of us could pack it as ‘Holiday Underwear’. I’m reliably informed that most of you would be more likely to buy new underwear to celebrate going on holiday but oh no not us! We took our scabby undies away with us! Why? I hear you cry! Why indeed? (I still to this day 14 years on from this event cannot believe the reason!)  Here it is: because then, whilst on holiday we could wear it and throw it away… saving us room in our suitcases on the way home! Room for what?? Tacky souvenirs? I’m really not sure but some things you just do not question until you move out! And believe me what happened next was definitely going to lead me to question this certain little family tradition! Probably about a week into this family holiday I went off with another teenage girl to a bar further down the beach, there was some kind of Greek night event that we thought we couldn’t miss! After a couple of hours of entertainment, one part involving us drinking Ouzo through a funnel, there was some dancing. A Greek waiter grabbed me and pulled me up onto a table to dance. I was having fun until I realised that the waiter was gradually pulling my already short dress higher and higher. Oh my God, I realised… the table of holiday maker below were about to get an eye full of my throw away knickers! And as I gently forced the ‘gentleman’s’ hands back down he laughed and said relax! Relax! Relax!! Again I’d like to clarify that I’m certainly no prude but how could I explain about the throw aways? (And would I really want to even if I could?)  I’m now looking back on this story and wondering if my mum had an ulterior motive…maybe she already knew all about Greek waiters and found a practical way of keeping them at arms length when it came to her daughters!

So now that my old bras now have new homes, (eBayed!) I’m now sporting a crappy selection of M&S post surgery bras. I think after this little trip down memory lane I might just pop out and treat myself to a whole new lot of knickers! (But no backless tops for this respectable mother of two!)