Thorn In My Side

I was on my way to Heartlands Hospital in Birmingham to have my cancer carrying kidney removed and put the car radio on to take my mind off 'things'. Thorn In My Side by Annie Lennox started playing which made me smile as it was so appropriate considering my 'predicament'.

At that time the tumor was a thorn in my side, it took my kidney and subsequently left me in poor health for some time. After two years it has become apparent that damage to my back may be irreparable and the road to recovery has taken far longer than I had anticipated.

Before kidney cancer I ran a business Missfit Creations  and life was a whirl of fashion shows, exhibitions and photoshoots which centred around my designs and sales. I was a confident, outgoing business owner who would walk the walk as far as the fashionista image went. After having multicoloured dreads for several years I had diversified to a pink mohican by the time I was suddenly taken ill.

I can't remember when it all changed because quite soon after my surgery and despite feelings of uncertainty I slipped back into the same routine. During my hospitalisation and recovery I was steadfast in my resolve that things would change most particularly my business. However, I returned to Missfit and the associations that it held and this was what would eventually become the real Thorn In My Side.

No matter how I tried, I couldn't shake the association of my business with the cancer that had changed my life. I just couldn't figure it out, I didn't fit the kidney cancer patient description, the check list was unticked in my case, why me? What if my lifestyle was the problem and that was predominantly my business.

Just a few weeks ago (I can't remember the exact date) I knew it was over. I made all the necessary calls needed and closed my business for good, Missfit Creations was no more. I thought I'd feel sadness, disappointment but nothing, just relief.

The website and logo remain in place until further notice as work on a new business is currently underway so my online presence will change shortly.

What I do still have is the remainder of my stock which all has to go asap. I could sell it all individually (and may still have to if it doesn't sell as whole stock...) but I have absolutely no incentive any more. So my aim is to sell the stock and donate 10% of the sale to The James Whale Fund for Kidney Cancer who have given me the support and advice I most needed when I needed it.

Cancer for me hasn't just been about surgery, it's not only the disease it has been the psychological aftermath. You don't bargain on the confidence cancer knocks out of you and in my case this impacted on my business.

I don't 'rock' a certain look anymore, the dreads and the mohawk have gone along with the outrageous clothes and all round 'out there' online image. I need to start again rather than pick up where I left off.

First though the issue of 200 items of vintage clothing & handmade designs...

10% of the sale will go to the James Whale Fund For Kidney Cancer 

Business Stock For Sale  

Talking the Plank

Before my kidney tumour made itself known I was blissfully unaware I was even remotely unwell. In fact I was on a mission to improve my general health and wellbeing as far as I could and had been exercising regularly.
Now this didn't involve a gym and I hadn't started yoga or running at that time but I did walk about 10 miles a week. I would also do some general exercises which included, the plank.
The night before I was taken ill I had been on a decent walk and returned to do a few exercises and when it came to the plank I had pushed that bit further to 2 minutes (not bad eh)? I can't remember feeling any differently and in truth wouldn't know for sure that this was what kicked off the bleed but, in the absence of any other explanation it's a decent guess.
So many times I've asked the question 'Why?' and doctor's have said there's no solid explanation but they haven't dismissed that by pushing myself that bit further the night before the dreaded plank may have done me a favour.
Fast forward to February this year and I finally (after talking about it for ages) began a yoga class. I'd been having physiotherapy for pain in my lower back resulting from my surgery and yoga had been suggested as a way of helping manage that pain.
I went along to Midlands Yoga not really knowing what to expect but having a preconception that the moves would be very steady and relaxing. What I hadn't counted on was that one of those 'moves' would involve taking on 'The Plank'

Now don't get me wrong, the yoga class was fantastic so much so that I've returned weekly ever since, what I haven't done is reveal my fear of the plank. It wasn't until I came to strike that pose that I realised the significance of it, this is what could potentially have saved my life. The fear stems from knowing that it could possibly have helped start the massive hemorrhage that led to the discovery of my kidney cancer.
I guess I'll never know but this week, for the first time I went into plank position and that fear didn't cross my mind. Maybe I've finally overcome it, another psychological hurdle over.
Yoga for me has been about so many things, managing the back pain, strengthening muscles, better posture, helping with sleep and relaxation etc. One of my personal goals is to once again be able to touch my toes which I've not managed yet but I'm enjoying doing headstands again after over 35 years.
I hadn't imagined it would also help to take away some of the pain associated with my memories of when kidney cancer changed my life, but it has. (Thanks Gemma xxx)

Cut to The Chase

I'm way behind with this blog as recent events have meant me avoiding speaking about what is going on and therefore not saying (or writing) it out loud.
This whole breast cancer scare really knocked me back both physically and mentally, more than I'd imagined. I suppose I thought I was 'over the worst' and coping with the aftermath of cancer so the thought of facing another one freaked me out.
The wait for my CT scan results seemed an eternity, after a week I caved in and rang the hospital feeling very pathetic and asked if they could please just tell me. A very kind and sympathetic secretary gave me a call back to say the consultant had authorised that she give me the news all was clear. My letter arrived a couple of days later with the best medical jargon you could wish to receive;

I have since had to have another renal ultrasound scan as well as some chest xrays which means there's not a part of me or an angle that hasn't been looked at. Those results came in yesterday with another all clear, huge relief.
The pain continues to be monitored and I'll have to notify of any changes in the lumps and lymph nodes but whatever's going on, it's not cancer.
Another line drawn and another sigh of reflief.

Another Day, Another Scan

The date is 8th May and my destination Queens Hospital, Burton to have a CT scan. I'm not 100% sure when my last one was although I know I opted out at 12 months as I'd had 3 in close succession. I'd also had numerous XRays and a bone scan so figured I had been radiated quite enough and would soon glow in the dark.
I'm now just over 2 years on from kidney cancer and this CT has been requested following the lumps being found in my breast and my lymph nodes being raised. The fact I'm still in remission has obviously played a part in the consultant deciding I need a full body scan again. This time I didn't protest.
This is my first CT at Burton, previous scans were at Heartlands before I opted to move hospital but I've visited the unit with my Mom before.
I hadn't long booked in when I was called to go for blood tests, they need to make sure my lonesome kidney is functioning well and can cope with the dye I'm going to have pumped through me.
Next I'm seated in the scan waiting area and given a bottle of water with an iodine solution to drink which apparently helps show up my 'hollow areas'... I have an hour to drink this taking small sips every 10 minutes, the time passes quickly as I'm listening to various stories of why other patients are here.
By the time I'm called I'm bursting for a wee but not allowed to go obviously, this explains why everyone who's exited the scanning room heads straight for the toilet, this is not easy on your bladder! I forget to ask but presume my kidney is doing ok as they prepare to insert the canular in my arm.
CT scans don't require you wear a gown so I'm in leggings and a vest top and being me I am typically cold which must be apparent as I'm offered a blanket. Just my arm is out for the venflon to be inserted and then both arms have to be raised above my head.
The first 'go' through the tunnel is without dye and I hear the familiar 'Breathe in and hold it....now breath out' as the whirry tunnel takes me through. After a couple of 'goes' I'm out again on the conveyor and the radiographer puts the dye through the venflon and reminds me of the sensation that you're weeing. I'm secretly praying I'm not because that sensation is so real. Another couple of goes and I'm back out and can climb from under my blanky and head for the loo, all done.
As I leave I get the nods and smiles from those still waiting and a couple of 'hope all is ok's' which is when I start thinking less about my bladder and more about why I'm there, Sh*t I hope it is ok.

Appointment Day

My appointment isn't until later this afternoon and my eldest daughter will be accompanying me which is a relief. Josie is a sister in the Emergency Dept at Burton Hospital where I'm headed and so she's back to work on her day off.
The Breast Care Clinic is a dedicated building for breast cancer patients and the clinic I'm attending is a 'New Patient Clinic'. The room soon fills up and with statistics being 1 in 8 women having breast cancer it's apparent that many will leave today with bad news.
It was weird being back here because this is where I brought my Mom for her appointments when she had breast cancer 6 years ago. I also felt as if judgement was being served on me as I've moaned about  the fact that there is so much more dedicated care and fundraising given to breast cancer than other lesser known cancers. My experience of kidney cancer left me feeling completely bewildered and alone.
That said I can't fault the NHS or the level of care given, this appointment has been fast tracked and the staff here are amazing.
I'm first called in to see the consultant who asks to examine me, confirms the lump and says that he can also feel that my lymph nodes are swollen. The first time this happened was 2 weeks before my kidney cancer introduced itself so I wasn't happy to hear they were back. However,  my lymph nodes have reappeared since with no sinister consequences. He takes some more information from me and then we're sent back to the waiting room.
Next I'm taken in for a mammogram which wasn't easy given my 32AA size...However it was done swiftly by 2 lovely radiographers and I was then taken for an ultrasound scan of the area. For this there were 2 nurses and a doctor who had a look at the mammogram images then started to scan me. Thankfully she very quickly confirmed that the lump I had felt was a benign cyst. It was said very matter of fact but the relief was immense. However she then asked the nurses to take a look at the images and explained that she wasn't happy with what she could see and I'd need another mammogram.
Back out to the waiting room with Josie who was obviously becoming concerned as I'd been a while in there already.  Once the room was free again I was called for a second mammogram for which I felt like a  contortionist the way I had to be positioned. Then the radiographers accompanied me in to have another ultrasound. Lying there with 5 professionals querying what they saw made me very nervous. Then the doctor said I could take a look, it appeared as though my upper right side was shadowy compared to the left. When they zoomed right in it looked as though I had several other cysts.
Once I was dressed again I was sent back out into the waiting room until I could see the  consultant again. Having learnt my lesson about wearing ridiculous clothing when attending hospital (although previously this had been in an ambulance) I'd attempted to take the lead from Lisanne Vos who wrote in her blog R U Kidneying Me about how she turned up for her surgery in gym gear with a positive mental attitude. For this appointment I looked like I'd arrived for a yoga class in leopard print Puma leggings and a fitted sports top - not easy to peel on and off for each examination,  another hospital clothing fail.
It wasn't long before I was called in to see the consultant and he got straight to the point saying that the good news was my lump was definitely  benign. He then went onto add that given my history and the fact my lymph nodes were swollen and the ultrasound scan uncertainty he was booking me in for a CT scan.
This was something I'd avoided since November 2013 after having 3 CT scans + a bone scan in close succession due to my kidney cancer. However, I now felt quite relieved, I just wanted to know if there was anything nasty lurking around inside me and so the saga continues.
Good news + unanswered questions = a continued state of limbo.
I had thought I'd got this cancer thing sorted but it had other ideas. Last time it arrived without warning, this scare has taken up the best part of a month and taught me I have no control over that C word. It can torment your head,  attack your body, stop you from sleeping and worst of all, keep you guessing.

Pause

It's now Tuesday 28th April and I've skipped a couple of days writing. I asked my husband to open the letter for me on Sunday and now know my appointment is booked for tomorrow at 1.30pm
I'm a bit all over the place at the moment as you can imagine. I can't settle to do anything today. Sunday was a family day, Monday spent getting sorted after holiday so busy with washing, shopping etc and little time for idle thought. Oh, I did have an appointment for a cervical cancer check to attend yesterday,  great timing but I it has to be done, that's another letter that'll be in the post shortly.
Today however I'm so tired,  combination of a busy day yesterday and hardly any sleep last night. My feelings are divided between sensibility 'stop worrying and get on with things ' and fear ' what if...'
I've rationalised both scenarios. If everything is ok I'll breath as it of relief and crack on with life (after offering up a huge prayer of thanks). If the news is bad I'll probably shed a few tears and, crack on with life - I got through it once so I can do it again.
The real fear right now is not knowing, I feel my life is on hold. I've written previously about how fortunate I was to have fallen ill suddenly the first time, no waiting and worrying, no pain or suffering beforehand. This is excruciating especially at night when all my worst fears seem to close in.
What about my family, how will they cope, how will I walk our dogs,  I won't be able to go running, play netball, do yoga. It's not f***ing fair!

Goodbye Wales

We drove home through the mountains so we'd get to travel past Snowdonia. The weather hasn't improved but it just adds to the atmosphere, it's a wonderful journey taking in stunning scenery.
Arriving home the first thing I see is a pile of post on the stairs,  that can wait. It's amazing how quickly you slip back to routine, within no time I'm busy sorting, preparing and planning the week ahead. I easily  manage to dismiss my unopened post.
It'll be there in the morning.