I'm not some kind of weirdo or pervert-truly! Last week I found myself inspecting two sets of boobs. It was a strange and uncomfortable experience-but oh,so valuable!
Tuesday night there was a meeting of women who expressed an interest in breast reconstruction. The aim of this-the first meeting in the North London area, sponsored by the Royal Free Hospital-was to answer any questions and address any doubts that cancer survivors might have about going through with the operation.
There were about ten of us, plus one consultant plastic surgeon and one clinical nurse specialist in plastic surgery. Her name is Rebecca, and, as it turns out, I will be seeing her when I attend the clinic in May. So I was really glad I went to this thing.
The consultant, Dan, said that only about a third of women who have mastectomies go ahead and have the reconstructive surgery afterward. I was apprehensive, anxious, worried about the pain, the surgery-you name it. I'm such a hospital veteran, I've developed a phobia of hospitals, surgery and doctors.And, speaking with some of the women at the meeting, I discovered I wasn't alone.
Dan showed us slides of four operations: three of them were single mastectomies, where the breasts were reconstructed using tissue from the back and/or the abdomen (I won't elaborate. I don't want you to toss your breakfast). The fourth was a double, and the woman had implants. That was the woman I wanted to see.
So all four women went into little rooms off the main clinic, and the rest of us were told that we could go and see the finished product, as it were. We-no kidding, seriously!- became boob inspectors.
I didn't need to see the women who had tissue taken from their back, although I did walk in with another patient to see the woman who had tissue removed from her abdomen. Her surgeon is my surgeon. I needed to see what he could do. And the results were fantastic. This woman was big-and I do mean, big-and she showed us that Steve (my surgeon) reconstructed one breast to be the same size as the other. You couldn't really tell the difference.
I then went to see the woman who had the implants. She said that she had no fat on her back or stomach, so they needed to do implants-and I am in the same situation, except that I will have expanders, and will have saline injected every two weeks until I reach the correct size. Whoopie.
So she went on to say that Steve put some kind of sling underneath both breasts to minimize drooping-and that, to give her a gift, he increased her size from an A cup to a double D. I was amazed by the quality of the work. But if I had him give me a double D, I would never see my feet again. In fact, I would be so topheavy, I would be falling over all the time.
A double D-lucky woman, I guess! And no, I will not go that large. I would look ridiculous.
So three of us left the hospital together, and were laughing about being boob inspectors for the night. And now I am going to go ahead and have the surgery, because I know that Steve does good work, and I needn't worry about having one breast by my knees and the other up by my nose.
This is what I call progress!!
Monday 30 March 2015
Tuesday 24 March 2015
The definition of insanity
There are so many sayings going around-and this one has been doing the rounds for as long as I can remember. Insanity is defined as doing the same thing in the same way and doing it over and over again, and expecting different results. Yeah, sure. How naff is that? Speaking of naffness, the king of naff sayings has to be "when life hands you lemons, make lemonade". Scuse me? When life hands you lemons, grab the salt, a bottle of tequila, a large glass, and knock yourself out. Screw the lemonade.
Of course, I bring this up for a reason. I don't go for the insanity bit. To me, it's obstinacy. Persistence. Tenacity. Bloody-mindedness. And, possibly, futility. And when I went to Queen Square for my balance physiotherapy assessment nearly two weeks ago, I was given some of the very same exercises I was doing five years ago. Same old, same old. Doing the same thing, etc, etc.
The interesting thing is that I stopped doing these three years ago, thinking that I had come as far as I could-and besides, I was bored rigid. So out went looking up, looking down, looking from side to side, standing on one leg, standing on the other leg...you get the picture. And I have regressed somewhat, because some of these are more difficult than I remember. Try standing on one leg, then the other-then do it with your eyes closed. Then, if and when it is that easy, stand on a wobble board. That is the ultimate aim of Tom, the balance physiotherapist: to have me standing on a wobble board-with my eyes closed. Oh joy. And he is giving me six months of physio- that's it, six months of rehabilitation. I have my next session in six weeks. We then will figure out where to go from there. I asked him to make it tough. He heard me. I would, of course, prefer not to fall off a wobble board and knock myself unconscious...
So I did the physio assessment, I'm doing the exercises, I've been all over the place, seeing all the docs and being a good little patient. Now I have to wait until next Monday for my ultrasound, to finally discover what is causing this lump in my side. I can't stress about it any more-that just makes it hurt more.
I went to AgeUK's joke of a fundraising committee meeting last week. I also had tea with my neighbor, now 79 years old - and I told her that I was doing everything I could to help her, but it didn't seem to do much good. At the meeting - there was a lot of waffling about fundraising, and what people are doing, and why they are going to wait to take action until the new CEO takes over in April. So I, of course, opened my mouth. I so don't like posturing and bullshit. So I said this man is not going to part the Red Sea, you know (already been done), and he is not the Second Coming. What if he is no good??
Well, the acting chairperson just about jumped me. She said that I have no idea how stringent the selection process was, and of course he will be perfect for the job. And I said-perhaps he was great in the interviews, but he could prove to be a damp squib. And everyone is holding on, rather than doing anything that looks like constructive action. I got told off, and for the rest of the meeting nobody would talk to me. When I left, I said goodbye (I may be a "political activist", as they called me, but at least I am a polite one). I was ignored.
Now I feel like just leaving them to it. I don't know if I will receive the minutes, or if I will even be invited to the next meeting. And, frankly, I don't really care. I tried to help them, but they don't want my help. Or my opinion. And it's the same with church. I stand up and tell everyone that saving services for older people is really important (since one day we will-hopefully-all be old), but nobody is interested.
I've had to rethink my commitments - remember I did say a few weeks ago that I should never volunteer for anything! And I have now learned my lesson. Twice.
What is most important at this point in my life is not changing the world, because it is not likely to happen (certainly not the way I have been working at it). What is important is working to improve my balance as much as I can, so I will increase the exercises and keep going to the gym. And what is also important is a lot of attitude adjustment. I had my pity party, my few days (okay, weeks) of doing nothing except wallowing in self pity. But all that accomplished was to set me back. A lot.
And now I am going to walk. A lot. And hope that Firefox won't freeze before I post this. Boy, do I want a bag of Kettle Chips!!
Of course, I bring this up for a reason. I don't go for the insanity bit. To me, it's obstinacy. Persistence. Tenacity. Bloody-mindedness. And, possibly, futility. And when I went to Queen Square for my balance physiotherapy assessment nearly two weeks ago, I was given some of the very same exercises I was doing five years ago. Same old, same old. Doing the same thing, etc, etc.
The interesting thing is that I stopped doing these three years ago, thinking that I had come as far as I could-and besides, I was bored rigid. So out went looking up, looking down, looking from side to side, standing on one leg, standing on the other leg...you get the picture. And I have regressed somewhat, because some of these are more difficult than I remember. Try standing on one leg, then the other-then do it with your eyes closed. Then, if and when it is that easy, stand on a wobble board. That is the ultimate aim of Tom, the balance physiotherapist: to have me standing on a wobble board-with my eyes closed. Oh joy. And he is giving me six months of physio- that's it, six months of rehabilitation. I have my next session in six weeks. We then will figure out where to go from there. I asked him to make it tough. He heard me. I would, of course, prefer not to fall off a wobble board and knock myself unconscious...
So I did the physio assessment, I'm doing the exercises, I've been all over the place, seeing all the docs and being a good little patient. Now I have to wait until next Monday for my ultrasound, to finally discover what is causing this lump in my side. I can't stress about it any more-that just makes it hurt more.
I went to AgeUK's joke of a fundraising committee meeting last week. I also had tea with my neighbor, now 79 years old - and I told her that I was doing everything I could to help her, but it didn't seem to do much good. At the meeting - there was a lot of waffling about fundraising, and what people are doing, and why they are going to wait to take action until the new CEO takes over in April. So I, of course, opened my mouth. I so don't like posturing and bullshit. So I said this man is not going to part the Red Sea, you know (already been done), and he is not the Second Coming. What if he is no good??
Well, the acting chairperson just about jumped me. She said that I have no idea how stringent the selection process was, and of course he will be perfect for the job. And I said-perhaps he was great in the interviews, but he could prove to be a damp squib. And everyone is holding on, rather than doing anything that looks like constructive action. I got told off, and for the rest of the meeting nobody would talk to me. When I left, I said goodbye (I may be a "political activist", as they called me, but at least I am a polite one). I was ignored.
Now I feel like just leaving them to it. I don't know if I will receive the minutes, or if I will even be invited to the next meeting. And, frankly, I don't really care. I tried to help them, but they don't want my help. Or my opinion. And it's the same with church. I stand up and tell everyone that saving services for older people is really important (since one day we will-hopefully-all be old), but nobody is interested.
I've had to rethink my commitments - remember I did say a few weeks ago that I should never volunteer for anything! And I have now learned my lesson. Twice.
What is most important at this point in my life is not changing the world, because it is not likely to happen (certainly not the way I have been working at it). What is important is working to improve my balance as much as I can, so I will increase the exercises and keep going to the gym. And what is also important is a lot of attitude adjustment. I had my pity party, my few days (okay, weeks) of doing nothing except wallowing in self pity. But all that accomplished was to set me back. A lot.
And now I am going to walk. A lot. And hope that Firefox won't freeze before I post this. Boy, do I want a bag of Kettle Chips!!
Thursday 12 March 2015
Munchkins rock
I wrote a long post this morning-and then Firefox froze, and deleted everything. I couldn't even save it. Was I swearing, or what? Well-perhaps it turns out to be a good thing, because I was getting long winded. You would be bored.
I've spent a few days just thinking about my day in bed-and I decided that I must have been seriously depressed, even though I thought I was handling things pretty well. So-I decided to have a good close look at what was going on. I thought-the longer I spend in bed, the less chance I have of my brain making new neural pathways. If I don't challenge it (constantly) by doing things that make me dizzy-and doing them over and over and over again-my brain will just figure that it doesn't have to do anything, and will have a nap. And-I cannot spend too much time in bed, because I need to move around as much as possible to make sure my chest is clear. Too much sedentary activity means I can develop chest infections more easily. The chest thing is a result of being born with a defective immune system; the balance? That is thanks to Bart's Hospital. I need to accept it, live with it, and just never give up. And sometimes it gets me down.
I made an appointment for a training session at the gym-first time since cancer surgery, I think. I went along on Tuesday, and my trainer (Tony) worked out a new program for me. I went again today. I'm going to work my way up to four days a week if I can-my backside is heading toward the floor, so I need to take action. I felt quite proud of myself-and very, very sore!! But for me that is one answer: get active, get moving, do something, stop lying around feeling sorry for myself. That just gets boring, and accomplishes nothing.
I also went to Wood Green. Now, going to Wood Green (it's about four miles from my house) is like dropping yourself into a huge, cosmic-sized vat of stinking, noxious shit. It's filled with people who wouldn't be out of place as extras in The Walking Dead-and trying to negotiate from one part to another means avoiding the a**holes and dodging the d***heads. I did clean that up; I'm being polite. Don't get used to it-it's a one-off.
So why do I go when I know beforehand that anyone with crutches, or walking sticks, or obvious mobility challenges are at risk of being shoved into oncoming traffic? Well, a couple of reasons. Wood Green has two cinemas: one is shabby, the other isn't so bad. But I still start to itch, and when I get home I throw my clothes into the washing machine (on boil), and throw myself into the shower until I closely resemble a giant prune. I can't help wondering how far those people's bugs can jump. But I like to go to movies, and I finally can do so without too much dizziness afterward-and Wood Green has the closest cinemas. Let's face it: I'm lazy.
Wood Green also has small branches of the larger chain stores, so that is a bonus; it also has a Turkish restaurant that has recognizable food (ish), and my friend and I have been going there for a couple of years-and never suffered from food poisoning. My criteria for a restaurant: decent food and no e-coli.
I was just walking down the road, minding my own business, using ducking people as a vestibular rehab exercise-and there it was across the road: Dunkin' Donuts. It is THE Dunkin' Donuts. I remember it from my university days. My friends and I would all pile into my roommate's VW Beetle (she called it "vintage", we called it a clapped out old banger that sounded like a bag of hammers). Off we went to get really good coffee, and my friends bought jam doughnuts, while I bought a dozen donut holes (known as "munchkins"). They lasted for two meals. College food meant we survived on pizza, coffee and Dunkin' Donuts. I'm still amazed I didn't end up weighing 350 pounds, with ulcers from too much coffee and diabetes as well.
I did love those munchkins. It reached a point where my friends nicknamed me "munchkin"- I was the shortest of everyone, and standing in a group I used to feel like I was standing in a crater. And every time I went home I looked for a Dunkin'-such a creature of habit. And junk food.
Did I go and check it out? Not yet. Another week or so at the gym and I will reward myself. Of course, it might be horrible. Brits are known for making coffee that can double as paint stripper-so I might be really, really sorry. And munchkins? According to Dunkin's website (I did my homework-it is the real deal in crappy old Wood Green), they still make donut holes.
The coffee? I'll reserve judgment until I try it. And the munchkins? They still do them with cinnamon. Whether they will taste as good is anyone's guess. But I will take my safety in my hands and go. And why not? Ah, munchkins. All those calories. All that sugar. All that saturated fat...yummy!!!
I've spent a few days just thinking about my day in bed-and I decided that I must have been seriously depressed, even though I thought I was handling things pretty well. So-I decided to have a good close look at what was going on. I thought-the longer I spend in bed, the less chance I have of my brain making new neural pathways. If I don't challenge it (constantly) by doing things that make me dizzy-and doing them over and over and over again-my brain will just figure that it doesn't have to do anything, and will have a nap. And-I cannot spend too much time in bed, because I need to move around as much as possible to make sure my chest is clear. Too much sedentary activity means I can develop chest infections more easily. The chest thing is a result of being born with a defective immune system; the balance? That is thanks to Bart's Hospital. I need to accept it, live with it, and just never give up. And sometimes it gets me down.
I made an appointment for a training session at the gym-first time since cancer surgery, I think. I went along on Tuesday, and my trainer (Tony) worked out a new program for me. I went again today. I'm going to work my way up to four days a week if I can-my backside is heading toward the floor, so I need to take action. I felt quite proud of myself-and very, very sore!! But for me that is one answer: get active, get moving, do something, stop lying around feeling sorry for myself. That just gets boring, and accomplishes nothing.
I also went to Wood Green. Now, going to Wood Green (it's about four miles from my house) is like dropping yourself into a huge, cosmic-sized vat of stinking, noxious shit. It's filled with people who wouldn't be out of place as extras in The Walking Dead-and trying to negotiate from one part to another means avoiding the a**holes and dodging the d***heads. I did clean that up; I'm being polite. Don't get used to it-it's a one-off.
So why do I go when I know beforehand that anyone with crutches, or walking sticks, or obvious mobility challenges are at risk of being shoved into oncoming traffic? Well, a couple of reasons. Wood Green has two cinemas: one is shabby, the other isn't so bad. But I still start to itch, and when I get home I throw my clothes into the washing machine (on boil), and throw myself into the shower until I closely resemble a giant prune. I can't help wondering how far those people's bugs can jump. But I like to go to movies, and I finally can do so without too much dizziness afterward-and Wood Green has the closest cinemas. Let's face it: I'm lazy.
Wood Green also has small branches of the larger chain stores, so that is a bonus; it also has a Turkish restaurant that has recognizable food (ish), and my friend and I have been going there for a couple of years-and never suffered from food poisoning. My criteria for a restaurant: decent food and no e-coli.
I was just walking down the road, minding my own business, using ducking people as a vestibular rehab exercise-and there it was across the road: Dunkin' Donuts. It is THE Dunkin' Donuts. I remember it from my university days. My friends and I would all pile into my roommate's VW Beetle (she called it "vintage", we called it a clapped out old banger that sounded like a bag of hammers). Off we went to get really good coffee, and my friends bought jam doughnuts, while I bought a dozen donut holes (known as "munchkins"). They lasted for two meals. College food meant we survived on pizza, coffee and Dunkin' Donuts. I'm still amazed I didn't end up weighing 350 pounds, with ulcers from too much coffee and diabetes as well.
I did love those munchkins. It reached a point where my friends nicknamed me "munchkin"- I was the shortest of everyone, and standing in a group I used to feel like I was standing in a crater. And every time I went home I looked for a Dunkin'-such a creature of habit. And junk food.
Did I go and check it out? Not yet. Another week or so at the gym and I will reward myself. Of course, it might be horrible. Brits are known for making coffee that can double as paint stripper-so I might be really, really sorry. And munchkins? According to Dunkin's website (I did my homework-it is the real deal in crappy old Wood Green), they still make donut holes.
The coffee? I'll reserve judgment until I try it. And the munchkins? They still do them with cinnamon. Whether they will taste as good is anyone's guess. But I will take my safety in my hands and go. And why not? Ah, munchkins. All those calories. All that sugar. All that saturated fat...yummy!!!
Friday 6 March 2015
The road to Hell and all that jazz
Yes, I guess the road to Hell really is paved with good intentions.
I was going to happily tell you that the kitchen is more or less finished-Richard, the handyman, put up the rest of the shelves, and although Mulalley's work is absolute crap (after nearly 12 months, the work should be good enough for a magazine cover. As if!), nothing has fallen off the walls. So far, so good.
I went along to the gastro consultant on Monday-Sean wasn't in clinic, so Philip, another specialist who has been there forever, examined me. He is ordering an ultrasound-as soon as it can be arranged. He doesn't know what is behind the pain-but he was very reassuring. The lump is a mystery lump. Trust me to get the weirdest stuff imaginable! At least it's entertaining-well, not for me, but for some.
I also went along to a meeting of AgeUK. By now I have realized that I made a really big mistake-HUGE, in fact-by volunteering to do something to help my 78 year old friend keep the services she's going to lose in six months' time. AgeUK's fundraising group seems to be filled with old fossils who really can't -or won't- get that they need to do more than just sit around and "brainstorm". I hope I never get that set in my ways, that intransigent, when I get to their age. In fact, I hope I get to their age!! And I hope I never need the services that are going to be discontinued.
I've learned the hard way-I always seem to learn the hard way!!- that my mother's advice was very sound: never volunteer for anything. It's really annoying and frustrating to see people who persist in standing in their own way because they refuse to move into the 21st century. Well, duh!!
I start balance physiotherapy at Queen Square next week. I haven't been to the gym since the cancer surgery, so that will be very interesting (and probably painful). But this is a good thing: it gets me out of the house, and it makes me accountable to someone else. I need that accountability. Why? Well...
Yesterday I did something I have never done: I got up early, did what I had to do, and went back to bed. Until 1pm. I never do that, I am always up at the crack of 5am. I have been one of those irritating people who gets up really early and is ready to get out and do whatever. It's not so great for the workmates who limp into work at 9am and don't want to talk to anyone until the seventh cup of coffee. But I really didn't want to get up. I forced myself, and then I forced myself to get outside and walk for 45 minutes. It was a good thing, because I could feel myself slipping back into the very dizzy mode. If I don't get up and out every day - religiously- I'm not working at training my brain to find more balance. Simple: no work, no improvement. Scary.
Today I am okay. I thought yesterday that I was suffering from depression-why else would I be so unwilling to get out of bed until the afternoon? Perhaps it was depression, perhaps it was due to the fact that I have had very little sleep since this pain began three weeks ago. Whatever. Today I have begun to bounce back.
I'm beginning to avoid all people who are negative and who sap my energy by constantly complaining. I call them "energy vampires"-and I have to admit I have been there, and have done it myself. I sometimes still whinge-but I try to balance it with something positive. I will still fire pot-shots, though. It's justified. And it's fun. It keeps me amused. And it keeps me motivated.
There is a general election looming, and all the candidates are making promises they have no intention of keeping. I'm amazed at the stupidity of people around me, people who actually believe what they are being promised. Believe me when I say that the pot-shots will increase over the next two months-for your amusement as much as for my own. Reminds me of the Presidential elections: all the total bullshit but with a lot less money spent.
So that is it for now. I'm off to walk. And I'm off to Starbuck's. I hope someone recognizes this absolutely shameless and unsolicited plug for their coffee!!
I was going to happily tell you that the kitchen is more or less finished-Richard, the handyman, put up the rest of the shelves, and although Mulalley's work is absolute crap (after nearly 12 months, the work should be good enough for a magazine cover. As if!), nothing has fallen off the walls. So far, so good.
I went along to the gastro consultant on Monday-Sean wasn't in clinic, so Philip, another specialist who has been there forever, examined me. He is ordering an ultrasound-as soon as it can be arranged. He doesn't know what is behind the pain-but he was very reassuring. The lump is a mystery lump. Trust me to get the weirdest stuff imaginable! At least it's entertaining-well, not for me, but for some.
I also went along to a meeting of AgeUK. By now I have realized that I made a really big mistake-HUGE, in fact-by volunteering to do something to help my 78 year old friend keep the services she's going to lose in six months' time. AgeUK's fundraising group seems to be filled with old fossils who really can't -or won't- get that they need to do more than just sit around and "brainstorm". I hope I never get that set in my ways, that intransigent, when I get to their age. In fact, I hope I get to their age!! And I hope I never need the services that are going to be discontinued.
I've learned the hard way-I always seem to learn the hard way!!- that my mother's advice was very sound: never volunteer for anything. It's really annoying and frustrating to see people who persist in standing in their own way because they refuse to move into the 21st century. Well, duh!!
I start balance physiotherapy at Queen Square next week. I haven't been to the gym since the cancer surgery, so that will be very interesting (and probably painful). But this is a good thing: it gets me out of the house, and it makes me accountable to someone else. I need that accountability. Why? Well...
Yesterday I did something I have never done: I got up early, did what I had to do, and went back to bed. Until 1pm. I never do that, I am always up at the crack of 5am. I have been one of those irritating people who gets up really early and is ready to get out and do whatever. It's not so great for the workmates who limp into work at 9am and don't want to talk to anyone until the seventh cup of coffee. But I really didn't want to get up. I forced myself, and then I forced myself to get outside and walk for 45 minutes. It was a good thing, because I could feel myself slipping back into the very dizzy mode. If I don't get up and out every day - religiously- I'm not working at training my brain to find more balance. Simple: no work, no improvement. Scary.
Today I am okay. I thought yesterday that I was suffering from depression-why else would I be so unwilling to get out of bed until the afternoon? Perhaps it was depression, perhaps it was due to the fact that I have had very little sleep since this pain began three weeks ago. Whatever. Today I have begun to bounce back.
I'm beginning to avoid all people who are negative and who sap my energy by constantly complaining. I call them "energy vampires"-and I have to admit I have been there, and have done it myself. I sometimes still whinge-but I try to balance it with something positive. I will still fire pot-shots, though. It's justified. And it's fun. It keeps me amused. And it keeps me motivated.
There is a general election looming, and all the candidates are making promises they have no intention of keeping. I'm amazed at the stupidity of people around me, people who actually believe what they are being promised. Believe me when I say that the pot-shots will increase over the next two months-for your amusement as much as for my own. Reminds me of the Presidential elections: all the total bullshit but with a lot less money spent.
So that is it for now. I'm off to walk. And I'm off to Starbuck's. I hope someone recognizes this absolutely shameless and unsolicited plug for their coffee!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)