Little victories

Well, I have been dying for a holiday. I just need a break! My only problem is all the appointments I've been having! I just didn't know if I would be able to get away or not. 

So I got an appointment to see an endocrinologist (which was today in fact), and a physio appointment. I decided that if I didn't hear about my CT appointment this week, I was off anyway!

However, I managed to arrange a CT scan for tomorrow, and even though I have had to reschedule my physio appointment (because the physio called in sick), it means I can go away! 

Ah, a vacation! No talking, or thinking about, cancer...or hospitals...and hopefully I won't talk about throwing up...I just want a break from this madness!

Oh, and the endocrinologist appointment was just fine! They're incredibly efficient in that department!  I was very impressed! I still have to stay on the calcichews unfortunately. The doctor said they were the best thing for me to be on, given what I went through. At least all the doctors I've spoken to agree that they're horrible (but what an adorable name for them!) 

I still have a mountain to climb. I don't whether I'm still climbing it and meeting obstacles, or coming down it and meeting obstacles. I do know, however, that little victories like these make it all a bit easier. 

A little catch-up

First of all, I must apologise for the massive gaps between blog posts these days. It is a bit hard to figure out what I should write about these days, and sometimes I just cannot find the inspiration for a blog entry!

However, it has been pretty eventful these past couple of weeks so I actually have some things to say!

My sister hen-do took place about a week ago. It was the furthest I'd travelled and the most activity I'd done since the op. I did get very tired, though. The plan was to have some games and stuff ("stuff" being snacks) during the day, then go to a restaurant for a meal, and then on to a karaoke bar. Now, I managed the games and snack eating, then I had a little lie down so I could be rested for the evening activities. Unfortunately, I didn't last long at the restaurant before I got very tired and achy and had to go home. I had fun up until that moment, though!

The next day I met up with my friend Brittany and we had a little stroll around and some lunch. I just tried to take it easy and sit down whenever I got tired.

I was pretty pleased with myself for how much I had managed to do, but I did need a few days to recover!

Then I was hit with nausea. Ugh, it was horrible, and I could not identify the cause of it! I knew I had a couple of follow-up appointments coming up (one at the BRI. The other at St. James') so I tried to hold on until then. On top of general nausea, my calcichews were making me gag, and I wanted to speak to the doctor about it.

The follow-up at the BRI did not go too badly at all! My main worry was that they would stick a camera down my nose again, but thankfully, they did not! I just spoke to the doctor about how I was feeling and such, and he suggested that the nausea might be due to too much calcium (AGAIN) and sent me for a blood test.

The next day I went to see the consultant at Leeds (where even more blood was taken) and I spoke about how I felt with her. She told me that while my body was still getting to used to everything, I would tire out easily, and it was a matter of pacing myself. She mentioned sending me to an endocrinologist at the BRI whom she works with. She also said that I'm progressing normally which is GREAT, because "normal" is a word that is not normally associated with me!

When I came out of that appointment, the doctor from the day before called me with my blood test results and said he would be sending me to an endocrinologist, and it is probably the same guy the consultant mentioned so, either way I am seeing an endocrinologist! He also told me to come off my alfacalcidol for the rest of the week to bring my calcium down again and then when I go back on it, take one a day. The reason he's referring me to the endocrinologist to sort out this business with my dosage! I may ask this endocrinologist if there's something other than calcichews I could take!

The nausea is wearing off, too, so that's good! Onwards and upwards!

Oops

AKA Pesky Calcium part 2. AKA Adele is stupid.

So, I'm an idiot. No, I am. I really am.

I've been having low calcium again. *big sigh* See, I'd misread the dosage of my alfacalcidol, and I'd been taking a little bit more than I should have So I ran out of the stuff pretty quickly. The specialist nurse told me I could manage for a while without it, but it turns out that a while is only a few days...before you start having low calcium symptoms. I went off to the hospital for a blood test (by a nurse who was qualified to do it but a bit nervous, and as a result has left quite a bruise!) My levels had dropped some but, they gave me some alfacalcidol (and told me how much I should actually be taking!) and said that should fix it.

The thing is, since about Friday/Saturday, I've had a stinking cold. On Sunday I had horrible catarrh and kept throwing up. I threw up a few times right after taking my medication, so I'm not sure it really took effect.  That, and I think my body got used to me taking me more alfacalcidol than I should have been taking, so when I started taking less it all went a bit mad.

So, I called the hospital and I'm back to taking the amount I was mistakenly taking and I have to go in on Friday for another blood test (in my non-bruised arm)

I feel a bit better, but it's still taking effect. I guess the bottom line is, I can't be blase about any of my medication. I am so careful with my levothyroxine, but because my calcium levels WERE stable, I wasn't as careful. Lesson learned!

If this whole ordeal with Stupid Cancer has taught me anything, it is how to listen to my body. If this recent incident has taught me anything, it's that I need to be careful with ALL my medication. It's serious. I can't be blase with it.

Sorry, body. I'll be good to you now. (Only on the medication front, though. I can't make any other promises because of cake.)

The operation

I realised the other day that I have never actually talked about this. (It might get gross. Warning you now)

I have been thinking about it a lot lately. When I look back on it, I'm not sure I have ever been so nervous. When we got to the hospital, it all started to happen so fast. In a way I was grateful for it, but I also wanted to shout,"STOP! Just stop a second!" I was just confronted with everything all at once, and I didn't really have time to absorb it all. Perhaps that was a good thing? Whilst I was in hospital, I watched a couple of other patients wait almost all morning to be taken down to theatre, and in a way, that made me thankful that I  had not had to wait very long.

I arrived, and a nurse asked me some questions and gave me my anti-embollism stockings and hospital gown (which, I'm happy to report, did not have a butt gap in!) Then I met the anaesthetist and the consultants. I just kind of nodded as the consultants were talking. Like I said, I wasn't really absorbing anything, and I'd had the procedure explained to me a few times before. The anaesthetist was really nice and very matter-of-fact.

Next thing I knew, a nurse came to walk me down to theatre (why is it called that?) where I got ready to be anaesthetised. Now, whenever I talked about my operation with people, before the event, two people told me they loved the feeling of "going under" and one told me that they hate it. Their reason for that, they said, is because they have no control over the situation. At the time, this sort of rang alarm bells, because you all know how much I hate when I can't control something! *glares at flush on toilet*

Turns out, though, going under was quite a pleasant sensation! I lay there with a mask on my face, grinning inanely and enjoying the swirly whirly sensation of going under. Waking up, however, turned out to be worse for me!

They'd told me that to bring me round, they simply reverse the process of the anaesthetic. I had no idea what that meant, or how they would do that, so I didn't know what to expect. I guess I thought somebody would be gently tapping my face and saying,"Adele, wake up..." or something like that. Instead, I opened my eyes to find myself in a different room with people bustling around me, and I just flipped out!

I'm a little bit embarrassed about the way I reacted to be honest. I just felt so sick, and I didn't know where I was. I hadn't even had any crazy anaesthetic-induced dreams! All I knew was that I had felt a swirly whirly sensation, and then the next thing, people are attaching oxygen masks to me (which I took off, because it made me feel claustrophobic. They put tube things in my nose instead). I was vaguely aware that some time had passed, though.

For the next 24 hours, everything felt strange and dream-like. I wondered what I must look like, but did not want to see my reflection (though according to one nurse, I needed some blusher!) I actually tried to avoid seeing my reflection for a few days. It wasn't till Saturday that I forced myself to look at it (and I'd had the operation on a Monday).

I'm not sure there's really any way to mentally prepare yourself for something like this. You just face it head on, I guess. It is frightening to put all your trust in medical staff for a few hours of your life, especially for an operation as major as the one I had! I didn't really have a choice, though. If you are about to go through similar, then I hope I didn't scare you! You'll be fine!

Meh

I don't want to be down. I don't. Fact is though, it's been kind of a blah week. I have done most of the things I wanted to do but haven't really been successful with them.

That, and everything kind of hit me this week. When I was in the midst of treatment I guess I just didn't absorb it. Now that I have had time to reflect on it, it's kind of hitting me. Hitting me and making me sad. As well as just not absorbing it, I think I didn't allow myself to feel sad, because it wasn't really severe or life-threatening (though it did get very scary a few times).

There have been some good parts, though! I guess if this week has taught me anything, it's that I shouldn't deny how I'm really feeling, nor should I force for myself to feel positive if that's not truly how I'm feeling. It's not healthy to wear a mask. It'll all burst out of you eventually, anyway!

I think my advice would be to:

 1)let it out if you want to cry 

 2)Talk to someone about it (I plan on calling someone from Macmillan on Monday

 3)Never tell yourself that can't be upset. You have the right to feel something!

 4)Go outside! Get some fresh air and/or interact with people! Staying inside won't do you any good!

You don't have to be brave all the time, and it's okay to feel! 

So what happens now?

Well, I have been neglecting this! I just simply haven't known what to write. Or I have, but haven't known where to start.

You see, I would never want to lie on here, and pretend that everything is okay. I mean what is the point of a blog if you're not going to be honest? So, the honest truth is that I've been feeling kind of down. I know! I should be running through the streets, stopping only to karate kick the air! I just don't really know what to do with myself.

Not that I want to go back to hospital, or anything like that. I think it's just going back to feeling institutionalised in some way. My life for the past three months has consisted of pre-assessments, blood tests, and hospital stays. I still have to have the odd follow-up appointment, but other than that, it's done. Now what do I do? What do I do with my life now that I don't have to think about packing for the hospital and stuff like that?

The answer is simple, really: I get off my bum and figure out what I'm going to do in this coming week. There's so much I've been putting off but now I can get on with it. So, here's what I want to try and accomplish this week:

Exercising a little bit everyday-- Like walking a short distance. Anything else is rough on my shoulders for some reason.

Contact Butterfly--No, I can't speak to insects. (Imagine if I could, though!) Butterfly is the name of a thyroid cancer foundation, and they have a buddy system where they you put you in contact with someone who's had thyroid cancer. I'd rather be a buddy than have a buddy, so I'm going to call them and find out how I can help.

Do some more writing--I got asked if I want to write an article for a magazine called The Plain Truth. I have a copy, so I'm going to read it and see what kinds of articles are in it, usually. Then, I'll start brainstorming ideas. (I have a few. They just need arranging into something coherent and readable.)

Try to have a social life-- I still have to take it easy, but I really want to hang out with my friends again. I will let them talk, rather than me talking about vomiting all the time.

Get a bit of organisation going--I am not good at this, but the sight of my bedroom floor is distressing me, so a Sort Out is called for!

Call my voice coach--Not sure if I am ready to go yet, but I feel like I owe her an update.

To be fair, this could be condensed into one day. However, I'm very good at sitting around in pyjamas! I will keep you updated, and this entry will hold me accountable!

Onwards and upwards! Clothes, not pyjamas! (Ooh that felt weird to say...) Let's go drink lattes!

I'm back!

That was not a particularly bad experience! The worst parts were the nausea, and the shower that got ridiculously hot with no way of controlling the temperature. Oh, and the DVD player didn't work. Other than that, it was absolutely fine.

Fine is really the only adjective I can think of to describe it. It was pretty uneventful so, there's no stories of ordeals or anything.

It was kind of awkward that people had to stay behind a line whenever they came in the room. Well, it wasn't particularly awkward with the nurses and other members of staff, it's just that I couldn't hug my mum or anyone else who came to visit. I almost wanted to tell people not to bother, but I know I would have been very lonely, and it would have increased my chances of getting verbal diarrhoea when I finally got out!

The thing I was dreading the most was the scan on the last day, which they said could take up to an hour. I just kept picturing an MRI scan, and I felt like being in one of those for an hour would be hellish! It turned out that it was more like a CT scan, and the time was broken up by being moved around, so that the camera could scan different parts of my body. In the end, the worst part was when my nose started to itch and I could not move my arms to scratch it! The good news is, I don't have to avoid crowded places, pregnant women, or children!

I got taken home by one of those ambulance transport people, and I waited ALL morning for them! Fortunately, it was not too boring. I met two people who were going in for the radioiodine treatment, so we chatted about that and I gave them the skinny on what it was like. Funnily enough, one of them had been at the BRI around the same time as me (but had had an easier time of things) and I'm surprised I never saw her!  It was good to chat to people though, and swap stories and such.

So, world, I'm out and about! Watch out!