I WANT TO BELIEVE

I read “Fitzherbert Frog loses his voice” so many times to my children. I had just about memorised the story and it’s likely that I enjoyed telling the story more than they enjoyed hearing it. All those years ago, reading that story, I never imagined that one day I would have something in common with the fluoro green frog. Just like him though, I eventually found my voice. 

I took a quick, deep breath and yelled, “Scully!” from an upper level of Indooroopilly Shopping Centre. It was 1995 (I think) and I stood alongside hundreds of X-Files fans wanting a glimpse of Scu…I mean…Gillian Anderson. The blurry photo of a tiny Anderson stood as my evidence for the encounter. Please, I want to emphasise, I’m not the person who lauds movie stars but, this show, X-Files is the exception.

X-Files has, and this is why we should be careful what our kids watch, made a significant impact on my thinking. Thinking that has carried into adulthood.  As a teen viewer, I very quickly decided that I could relate to the “Trust No One”, “I want to Believe” phrases and yeah, for sure, the government was an establishment to be questioned. Side note - I had a great childhood and I wasn’t bullied at school. It was just that the storylines in this cult show really exposed some truths. Well, I believed them to be truths. The result? I learned to love a good conspiracy. 

I found particular episodes so intriguing that I would spend time at the local library (no internet back then) looking for further information. So much so, that in my Computer Studies class, I demonstrated my skill at excel spreadsheets (an assignment task) to lay out UFO sightings and related info. I just gobbled this stuff up, I loved it. What if there were monsters in the sewers of New York, crop circles in the countryside of England, government departments deploying men wearing all black, erasing memories and alien abductions were for real? 

I didn’t have anyone to share this information with who didn’t think I was a little weird. But, so many times, I was conflicted. How could one even contemplate such things having been brought up in a home with the sacred Christian text at the centre? I believe that Jesus died on the cross and rose again so that I may have eternal life, and still do, but how would I reconcile this? Perhaps only one truth could exist? Yes, seriously, I did believe that there were truths to the sci-fi classic. Again, this was something that I was interested in exploring but it was a weird topic that others weren’t interested in. So, I kept these thoughts to myself. 

In 2011, when I was diagnosed with breast cancer I had already formed strong opinions on big Pharma, thanks to the influence of my fav TV show. Chemo was one “hellova drug”. It was founded upon chemicals used against enemies in war. Why on earth would I have this injected into my blood stream, willingly? I was so conflicted. My conspiracy theories rose to the surface influencing, heavily, my decision on treatment for the disease. Do I take the poison? There was something else to consider… Couldn’t the God who created the universe just heal me miraculously? 

Well, truth is, I didn’t get a miracle. And, after investigating alternatives, I went with the mainstream recommendation - cut, poison and burn i.e. surgery, chemo and radiation. Having discarded the food pyramid and choosing to eat whole foods I found that to be a way to have some control in this seemingly out-of-my-control situation. The poison, which I so reluctantly took, did its job. I was cancer free or some might say, in remission. I had to admit that big Pharma did as it had promised. So was I wrong to have questioned them and have bought into the conspiracies? I can say that I did confirm, for myself, my theory that eating a whole food diet was the best way to heal. Before, during and after I found that my faith had indeed helped me to get though. I thanked God for strength and for giving me so many blessings along the way. I yelled these truths to whoever would listen, in the form of a blog, “Out Came the Sunshine”.  Chemo could be done, healthy eating is the way to go and believing the former two doesn’t mean that you don’t believe in God. 

Nine years later however, August 2019, I lost my voice. I was diagnosed with breast cancer again. 

So, big phama didn’t do it’s job after all. Eating healthy also seemed to have failed me. I still had my faith. Some might call me crazy but I wasn’t about to start blaming God or anything. 

This time it was not in my breast. It was in my bones, too many to require itemisation. It was in my liver. It was in my lung. I stopped working a job that I gained so much joy in. The house renovations were cancelled. I was unable to run my house. Being a wife and mother came in equal second place to the disease. I sat at home. I tried really hard to make sense of the cancer coming back. I had so many questions. Why was this happening? What am I supposed to learn? How can I be a productive citizen at this time? What’s my purpose? What had I done to bring this upon myself? Honestly though, I just wanted it to be over - I didn’t care how. 

I tried to access my old blog, thinking that I’d blog my experiences again, like I had all those years ago. I found it so helpful and I remember my readers did too. But, I couldn’t work out how to access the site. I created a new one, using a different platform and titled it, “I Choose Yellow”. I took my oldest daughter on a walk, camera in hand, to capture something yellow. This blog was going to document how positive I was despite the circumstance. It was like I had found purpose - my voice was under a rock and I was about to get it back. But my voice wasn’t there. I couldn’t lie. I wasn’t feeling positive. I was bending and bowing with the wind as it tossed me from thoughts of death to life, back and forth. I socialised when I felt reasonable and those around me commented on how positive I was. Truth is, it’s not how I felt on the inside. It’s easy to be positive when you’re feeling ok; quite a different thing when you're in pain or feeling yuck. I just couldn’t think of anything to write. Nothing. What’s more, there were things about this recent diagnosis and treatment that I didn’t want anyone to know. And, my rule of writing a blog is that I would be honest. This time I couldn’t be honest. I didn’t want to share it all. My voice was no where to be found. 

Last time, cancer was a physical battle. This time, it’s a mental one. How do you explain that?

Well, on Aprll 9, 2021, just days away from starting IV chemo, I found my voice. So, here I am. It’s day 1 of IV chemo. I’m ready to talk. (And, somehow, I managed to get my old blog alive again.) 

A Tribute

It was quite sometime ago that I gained the permission of my chemo buddies to write about them and include a photograph. And, while I admit that I have been totally slack in keeping you up-to-date, I have to also admit that without cancer, my life has gotten very busy again. I'm not sure if that's entirely good...but it's the truth of the matter.

What follows is how I met my cancer buddies. The Tough Bald Chicks. The TBCs.

The first TBC was a friend. When her story of having an operation hit facebook I didn't realise that it was cancer related. I certainly didn't expect to be a few steps behind her. So, via facebook, I shared my diagnosis with her. It was also her who gave me parking tips, prepared me for the large crowd of women at the Breast Clinic and who gave me the warmest of hugs on the morning I was to meet with the team who would operate to remove my cancerous tumour. I am so grateful to have had her alongside me. I even smile to myself when I think of the late night chats we had, sharing our weird and wonderful side effects, because the steroid medication would not allow us to sleep. Thank you, you are an inspiration.

It was this very same TBC, I introduced above, who shared the story of another women who was going through cancer treatment. So, one afternoon , I met her in Breast Clinic. Breast Clinic, it's the place to make friends apparently...

This tall women dressed in colours bounded up to the scales. (Have I ever mentioned that you get weighed in for each chemo session so that they can be sure that they are giving you the right amount of drugs to kill all of your healthy cells but not necessasily you?) She had laughed with the nurse and then bounded back to her seat. It's strange that I recall such detail, two years on, but the truth of the matter is she impacted me. I was amazed at her jovial banter and certainly inspired by this women who hid her bald head beneathe a scarf.  Later, she would share her fears about cancer (we all had those) and yet, her will to fight was so inspiring. Thank you, you are an inspiriation.

I first caught eye of this next TBC in the Breast Clinic. Did I already mention that Breast Clinic is where you make friends? She was beautiful. I thought cancer patients were grey and unsmiling. Well, she broke the mold that I held of cancer patients, that's for sure. She wore a strategically placed trendy hat, so as to hide her loss of hair. What stood out for me though was this woman's great big smile and her contagious laughter. She hadn't just been having a good day either. No matter her circumstances she has always shown an unrelenting desire to laugh cancer in its face. Thank you, you are an inspiration.

When I first sat in that chemo chair, I was close to another women who would later become a TBC. I certianly felt to be the drab one at the chemo lounge. Is it weird that I remember such detail...She had the best wig, very natural, and I remember admiring her boots. Again, I was overwhelemed with the couragious attitude of a cancer paitient and hoped that some of that would rub onto me. This TBC has gone to incredible lengths to promote breast cancer awareness and has sacrificed much of her time to raise funds for cancer research. Wow! Keep up the good work. Thank you, you are an inspiration.

I have to admit that, it wasn't the women who would become a TBC that I noticed first, in this instance. It was her daughter. I'll admit it, I loved her beautiful, long hair and with my hair gone I was certainly having a little hair-envy.  For a couple of chemo sessions, I would see a mother with her daughter sitting by her side. It would certainly take a courageous young woman to sit by their mum in the chemo lounge. But, she did it. She is certianly a testament to her parents. And so, when I finally, officially met this next TBC, I wasn't surprised to find a kind, warm-hearted caring and certianly courageous women. She has always offerend such gentle words of encouragement. Thank you, you are an inspiration.

Then I met the funniest of the TBCs. When I sat next to this TBC, the time went by so fast that I may even go as far as to say that it was my best chemo session ever. To this TBC, thank you for the laughs. You have shown so much courage and strength. And, through it all you have maintained a postive outlook. How do you do it? Thank you, you are an inspiration.

Thank you TBCs. You are always in my heart xxxxx

On the edge

In the last couple of weeks, I have made some decisions with regard to my fight against cancer. I have begun oil-pulling, introduced lemon and water to my morning, am confidently sculling apple cider vinegar and water in the afternoons and drinking bone broth as often as I can. There is a method to this absolute madness. 

I guess I should begin with the strangest thing of all, oil-pulling. This is the act of swishing (oh man, this sounds even worse when I try to explain it) coconut oil in your mouth, first thing in the morning, for 10-15 mins. The first time I did it, I gagged until I had to race to the bathroom sink and spit out the chunks of coconut. I was so disappointed in myself. But then, thanks to the internet, I found myself among many others who did the same the first time they tried the practice. Many said that the gagging disappeared by the third round. And so, it was true. I was able to crunch away at the solidified oil, the third time, without gagging. I swish before anyone else, in the house, is awake. I have a shower and get a few things done in order to get my mind off what I am actually doing, pushing the oil through my teeth over and over. I do this because I want to have better teeth. Even though I have always looked after my teeth, it seems that I was doomed to have trouble. All my back teeth are filled, I've had a few root canals and even as I type this I am aware of some more work that I need done. So, not only will my teeth supposedly get whiter but I should be able to eliminate some of the nasty bacteria that hangs about and creates plaque. I had read a few articles about oil-pulling but was finally convinced when I discovered just how many women found themselves with breast cancer not long after having had root canal. I would absolutely recommend you check it out. It's crazy. I am not keen, at all, to be having any major work on my teeth now; and I figure that I should at least give this a go. As you can imagine there are some pretty skeptical people out there. But, I'm going to do it for a while and see if I notice a difference in the coming months. 

After I've rinsed my mouth from the oil-pulling, I then head straight to the kitchen to drink the juice of half a lemon in a glass of water. This is to increase my body's pH. Apparently, cancer cells cannot survive in an alkaline environment. In order to achieve this, it is recommended that one should eat less meat and more soy products. I am not interested in lowering my meat consumption because I feel convicted that I am doing the right thing there; but, soy? Considering my cancer was oestrogen respondent, I really don't like the idea of ingesting something that mimics oestrogen. So, I have found two other ways in which I can raise my pH. I've already shared the first. The second, which I drink in the afternoon, is a tablespoon of unpasturised apple cider vinegar in a glass of water. I do not sit back and relax with a glass of either of these. I take it because I believe it's good for me. And, that's that. At some point, I would like to test my pH. I just haven't got around to that yet. I will mention though that the same week that I began this that I found myself really energised. I have no idea whether this was a coincidence or not. Actually, I have been trying to convince the husband to give it a go to see if he notices anything. 

Finally, bone broth. Last time, I made bone broth I was too disgusted at the thought of drinking it by itself that I resorted to using it as a stock in my cooking. This is quite ok. But, I realise that I can do better than that. I'm also going to give this a real good go. For a few months, I am going to try and drink a cup of this stuff a day. No one will deny the amazing benefits of bone broth. This mineral-rich liquid is just darn good for you. But, I have also found a few sites that reckon it makes you look younger, that it can get rid of your cellulite(!!!!) and so much more. 

Don't take my word for it though. I absolutely encourage you to check out these three practices. Whether you have had cancer or not, you never know what good health is waiting for you.

Let me know how you go.

Treating cancer after treatment

Ok, so I lied. I am still somewhat under treatment. I am now six months into my five-year hormone treatment of tamoxifen. Thankfully, I have experienced only one side effect. It's a little embarrassing... My side burns are growing a little more hair than they should. It's not enough to warrant a shave or hair removal cream, but it's there. Oh well. No big deal, really. It's a good thing though because it's a sign, for me at least, that my oestrogen, which was feeding the cancer, is lower.

The tamoxifen is the official treatment. I thought I'd share though the other changes that I have made since going paleo and then going cancer-fighting-mode once discovering I had breast cancer.

This time last year, I was fighting the urge to check that my tumour hadn't gotten any bigger, I was looking into the mirror at the tumourous lump wishing that April 29 (lumpectomy date) would come quicker. I was also eating meat cooked rare, raw, organic vegetables and a diet that was high in fat and low in carbs. My very diligent husband was reading up on as much as he could about ways various individuals fought cancer naturally. Most of these people were in a position where they were not able to access medical treatment. And so, they were forced to do something on their own. For many, many people, cancer disappeared. It didn't come back either. I wasn't confident enough with all of that so I did what they did plus what the doctors recommended. Do I have regrets?

Well, I absolutely believe that I made the best decision with the information that I had at the time. I have a strong feeling though that years down the track I may have wished that I had not allowed the...mmm I have forgotten the two drugs... cyclophosphamide and taxotere into my system. I have freaked myself out a little with my googling of chemotherapy side effects; all of which I was aware of, but now they seem more real. Particularly when, I forget words, can't remember conversations that I have had, stop mid sentence because I have no idea what I was talking about, make commitments and forget about them and then just general vagueness. So, I get that this happens to the best of us. I get that this did happen to me before. But, it's a little too often. And the fact that other cancer survivors tell me that this is what they are experiencing led me to think about including foods that will help. Yep, food can help.

For the past few weeks we have deviated a little...gasp...from our paleo extremism. Our family indulged in a gluten-free pizza (it was funny to see child number two eat this because eating a triangle was a new experiene), chocolates over easter and an ice-cream or two. We even ate a gluten-free naan! Each treat tasted beautiful. But within minutes of them hitting our belly we knew it wasn't worth it. It was during such crazy behaviour that I broke a tooth! I couldn't believe it. But there it is. Another chemo side effect. Chemotherapy weakens your teeth. I don't have the best of teeth anyway, so to know that my teeth are weaker is not good.

I want to be healthy and strong. I want to be able to stop cancer with me. I want to reverse the side effects of chemotherapy. I want to turn my world upside down because ultimately, I don't know what it was in my body that allowed the growth to occur in the first place. So, what follows are some of the ways that I believe I can fight any future cancerours events. I am certainly not stopping here. But, I am making the changes slowly.

Well, you are already aware of my food lifestyle. Aside from booked in events I am gluten, sugar, legume, dairy and grain free. I prepare all of my food from scratch and spend hardly any money at the local supermarket. Rather, I make regular trips to my local butcher and organic farmer.

I have decided to slip in and out of a ketogenic diet. This is not how I eat all of the time. Every now and then I decide to do it for a few weeks. It's simply eating very low carbs. It puts your body in a ketogenic state and it has been proven to be a way in which to fight cancer. The state is not good to be in over long periods of time. For this reason, I dabble in this treatment.

I have elimiated chemicals in my laundry and now use a homemade laundry powder. It doesn't make the whites whiter or the colours brighter. It does clean them though. The pay off is that I am not wearing clothing that has chemicals sitting in the fibres. Am I a little paranoid?

This has been a tough one. Because a change in deodorant, or going without actually effects others. I was using a homemade "deodorant" but found that it wasn't cutting it. I am now going with the Moo Goo brand. It's alright. I also don't mind the edible (for real!) dedorants. They tend to need to be applied again in the day. But, again, using these products means that I am not dosing my skin with chemicals.

Our carpet was cleaned with natural products. This was a complete accident. It just happened to be the choice of the local business that we happened to employ for the job over the last two years. They did a great job with our carpets and I would definietly recommend looking for a company that will clean your carpets with completely natural products.

Another simple change has been in our soap. Honestly, in the past, I have always simply opted for the cheap stuff. Now, I'm looking for the natural soaps. They do smell really nice too.

Ok, so I might cop a bit of flack for this one. But, I'm sticking to it. Unless, I'm going to be in the sun for an extended amount of time (the whole day) I am not wearing sunscreen! The first reason is the amount of chemicals: that's a big turn off. But the other thing that I will miss out on is the vitamin D. Every day, I look to spend, at least, a half an hour in the sun without protection. Chemotherapy lowers vitamin D levels, I need it for my bones and let's face it we all feel so much better after being outdoors.

I am finding this one difficult but I do aim to have eight hours sleep each night. This is a way in which I can limit stress; who needs any more of that?

We all know that exercise is good for us. It's great for fighting cancer too. I avoid regimes that place too much stress on the body and opt for short workouts, nothing longer than 20 minutes and certainly only one session a day. I'd like to be doing this six days a week but as I still fight some of the fatigue (yep) I sometimes do less than I would like.

But that's a key too isn't it? Being sensitive to your own body; knowing when to rest, when to say no to a workout and just having a nap. When I can, I take a nap. And, I never feel guilty or lazy about it.

As a mother of a 2 and 4 year old there are plenty of opportunies for play. This is another way that I can be treating cancer. It relieves stress, it's fun and certainly builds loving bonds.

Finally, and perhaps my lastest addition to my treating cancer after treatment is fasting. There is some serious evidence that fasting is fantastic in keeping away cancer. A few weeks ago, I was skipping breakfast. I have now progressed to skipping two meals a day. So, I know what you're thinking. I have some serious food issues. Not true. Let me finish. If I fast I have to be eating well. In fact, if my insulin levels are doing well I will actually find that I am not craving food. And this has certainly been the case. I have been quite surprised at how I have been able to skip two meals. I assure you that I am not doing this to lose weight. It is purely medicinal. The fasting state is good for your body. Currently, I fast two meals, twice a week. I would love to be able to swap one for a 24 hour fast, but my head just isn't there yet.

Today's post, was accidentally a little longer than I had planned. And, as I read over it perhaps a little disjointed. I hope that I have included all of the ways that I am fighting cancer from returning. There is no doubt room for more ways in which I can fight cancer on a daily basis. And, a year from now, I bet I'll have quite a few more items to add to my list. I don't want a reoccurrence of 2011 and I don't want my children to face cancer. We're going to do everything different. At the age of 30 my body was prime for cancer. Now, as I approach 32 (cringe), there is no room for the c-word.

Take that, cancer!

Check up

Yesterday, I had my three month check up. It included a mammogram and an ultrasound. The latter was going to be nothing, although I must admit that I knew that I was going to be more than a little uncomfortable for the former.

Well, there I was. I was instructed to put my chest and butt out, look straight ahead and remain still (there was no way I could move even if I wanted to). As the plastic "flattener" came down I braced myself. In that moment, I started laughing. Believe me, nothing was funny. It was the kind of crazy laughter that came out of me when I went on the Giant Drop at Dreamworld. Then, as quickly as the laughter came I wanted to cry. But, I didn't. By then the machine was moving up and away. I was squashed another three more times and then the mammogram session was over. Out of the four, there was only one that I found particularly sore. The others were just the expected discomfort from having your breast slammed between two plates.

The ultrasound was a breeze. And, no new lumps were found. I wasn't surprised. I wasn't expecting anything like that.

Oh, and I know that I said that I was avoiding fruit for the month of January but I did have a skewer or two from this fruit rainbow. It was so easy to make. And, the four year old was able to help which made the process even more fun.

Crespo

This month I'm doing 30 days of strict paleo. I am surprised at how easy I have found it so far. This time last year, I remember us madly searching the internet for paleo treats. This time around, giving up the treats has been no big deal. What I have found difficult has been giving up the fruit.

A few days before the new year, I read how sugar (and we've all heard this before) feeds cancer. So, unless it's a treat or after a workout, I'm going to stay away from ye ol' fructose. I have also had a good few new recipes in the rotation that I wish to share. But, another time.

I am excited to report that my state of menopause was only temporary. I'm outta there. Strangely enough, I felt so good at this. I thought that I was ok about being in menopause, but like so many things along this journey, you never know how you are going to feel or react at different points. So, I'm happy at this news. It also marks another step away from cancer and its treatment.

That hair. The hair is growing back curly. Yep. I thought I would always like to have curly hair. But you guessed it, now that I have it, I'm not quite sure. I have a feeling that I may be parading a Marge-style do, because the curls are just pushing my hair up higher and higher. Oh well, better that than nothing...

As I type I stop to admire my nails. Now, I've never had particularly beautiful nails but I think because they have looked so atrocious these past few months that now that they have grown (pink and white now) and they have a little clear nail polish they look amazing. Well, to me anyway.

Next week my youngest begins childcare for the first time. And, my oldest starts prep. I am so excited for both. In fact, just this week, the husband and I off-loaded the last of our baby stuff. Don't get me wrong, I have enjoyed absolutely every part of being the mother of babies but man, it's so exciting to be moving away from that too. I am very much looking forward to the new challenges that lie ahead.

I would like to take a vow that I won't complain about having to do the school run, that I will not regret signing the children up for Spanish lessons and I promise to commit to memory all of the information that the prep school provides. Actually...can I take any of that back?

A gluten-free Christmas

This time last year we had one foot in the paleo camp and another in the we-eat-anything camp. We indulged in donuts and then vowed that we wouldn't do that again until Christmas 2011. Well, that lasted until the weekend of our fifth wedding anniversary (mid Feb 2011). We had spent a night at the Treasury Casino and found it necessary to walk to the Krispy Kreme three times! Yes, I'd say we had an addiction. The third time we were there the worker gave us a free coffee. Anyway, we made a another vow not do those gluten-filled treats until Christmas 2011.

We have come a long way. The thought of eating donuts now is far too distressing. So, our off-roading this Christmas has been limited to indulgences of sugar, dairy and products that are gluten-free.

On Christmas eve we visited the husband's parents. There we found a full box of chocolates. Wow! The allure of dairy milk was so great. Since paleo, I have stopped eating chocolate. Let's face it, 85% chocolate just doesn't have it. We ate, we enjoyed and then we stopped. That was the beginning of our food mis-adventure.

Christmas day saw us moving from house to house. For breakfast we enjoyed a cooked meal with friends. We were very good.

Lunch was with my mum. She was very accommodating of our family's food needs and went gluten-free for us. This meant that we could have the pudding. Yum! Back in the day, gluten-free products were so second rate. It seems, though that the gluten-free scene is much improved these days. Apart from the pudding being crumbly, it seriously did not lack in taste. I also enjoyed some ice-cream for dessert. Yes, it tasted just as good as I remembered. I ate in moderation and I felt absolutely ok with my less than strict food choices for lunch.

When dinner came around, with the husband's family, I think I had become more conscious of the fact that I wasn't likely to be enjoying such treats for a while. So, I scooped up a handful of chocolates, ate gluten-free pudding with brandy custard and then had a few more scoops of chocolate. Of course, I ate a pretty awesome Christmas meal.

The following day began very well. It was back to good eating. But then, we thought that it was absolutely appropriate to do ice-cream. We stopped at Baskin and Robbins in the evening. Our hand was forced there unfortunately; they were doing a deal. A double scooper earned a free kids ice-cream. Pomegranate and rum raisin for me thanks. Totally enjoyed it! Then, just before we settled in to watch a movie I enjoyed my last treat. A cup of rooibos with a gluten-free mince pie. That was that.

Today is my first paleo day. My deprived life begins. Nah, seriously, it's pretty easy. If I thought not wanting cancer was good motivation for doing this then actually getting cancer (and not wanting it to return) is a sure way to keep me on the right eating track.

I'll have one more bender new year's eve and then I'm going to kick off 2012 doing Whole30. We have some more recipes in our repertoire so I hope to share them too.

I found a lump today

I have a sore lump in my right arm pit. I had noticed it a few days ago, but I really thought nothing of it. It was only yesterday though, that I realised that the lump could possibly be sinister. So, I decided to make a doctor's appointment. Of course, I googled my symptoms. My five minute search came up with nothing particularly interesting. I already understood that it could be a sign of cancer in the lymph node, but the pain also lead me to believe that it could be an infected lymph node. And then, there was also the chance that it was simply some fluid building up; the heat had certainly brought on a heavy work load for my lymph nodes to cope with.

My GP was not in. But, I secured an appointment with another doctor that I believed would provide good care. He made the usual comment about me being so young to have such a diagnosis, pushed way too hard on the sensitive lump and then decided to refer me to have an ultrasound.

As I drove home, I was thinking about all the stuff that I had decided to do in order to prevent any likely return of cancer. Was it all in vain? Is it really possible to keep this disease from visiting again? If this was cancer, would I continue the lifestyle changes that our family had made? The answer was yes. As if cutting out anything that is unnatural could be a bad thing. So, with that decided, I waited until 9am (the doctor's appointment was at 7am) until I could enquire about a time for my ultrasound.

I rang a few places to make an appointment. I was trying to get in as soon as possible. How lucky was I to get one on the same day at 11.30am? Very. My two cutie pies accompanied me and were quite amused by the whole experience. I was encouraged when the sonographer commented that the ultrasound was showing a build up of fluid. While I was the one who walked out of there with that cold, slimy gel (I thought I had wiped it all off) clinging to my shirt, it was child one and two who got the stickers! They were impressed. But, it was two hours before I would hear what I wanted to hear from the doctor.

Would you believe that child number two (23 months) called out, "Coffee" when they saw a Merlo Coffee sign? I took that as an indication that I needed to have a coffee. After that, the three of us went to the library. We read a funny book, written by a South African (Niki Daly). I found the book so hilarious. It so succinctly captured the South African culture and it even included some funny slang words. Then, it was time to take a slow walk back to the car and get to the second doctor's appointment for the day. I was totally over it all, already.

We waited a half an hour to see the doctor. The appointment only lasted two minutes. As soon as I sat down in the chair the doctor, swung his hands into a clap and, said, "Good news! It's nothing!" I reckon he was as concerned as I was as to what that lump could very well have been. That was it. My little scare was over.

The doctor recommended that I have a break from exercise for a bit, at least to give the lymphatic system a chance to resolve the extra fluid build up. He also said that I needed to give weight training a rest too. Of my own, I have decided to wear the compression stuff in the mornings, just as a precaution.

I was given a script for some antibiotics and next week I will have another appointment to check the lump. But, while it is still tender, I was very happy to hear that it's not one-of-those lumps!

The Year That Was

On this day last year, I celebrated my big 3-0. The husband arranged for another two families to join us at Royal Pines Resort for the weekend. Although it rained for most of the weekend, we had a good time. But, I would never have imagined what was in store for me.

In January we did our first, Whole30. We loved it. We became paleo/primal.

February marked our five year anniversary. So, for the first time ever, the husband and I went away, for the night without child one and two, to the Treasury. We had loads of fun. It was such a treat! Any fears I had of being 30 and "so old" were quickly squashed when I was asked for my I.D. as I entered the casino. Bam!

March was the month that I found the lump. It was also the month that I threw my first children's party (for child number one) and it was heaps of fun. I look forward to doing more of them.

You'd think that April 4 would be the day that my world fell apart. Yes, that date is permanently etched in my mind. But, my world didn't fall apart. It certainly changed a great deal. My house was still standing when I returned home from the doctor, my friends and family still loved me and I still woke and went to sleep (although a little less some nights). Life went on. The hospital became my second home as I was there for every test imaginable. Before the month came to a close, the tumour was out.

In May, I celebrated that the cancer hadn't spread. On May 30, I had my first chemo. That was scary.

June, July and August are like a bad dream now. I actually struggle to comprehend what really happened. I'm like a woman who has given birth. I've seen the baby (in my case, good health) and now I can't remember the birth pains (chemo side effects). I am not joking.

By September, I was a week into radiation. That was so easy! I couldn't believe how good I was feeling. And, what was more amazing was that I was getting better and better. I really didn't realise how ill the chemo drugs had actually made me.

When my final radiation came, I was overjoyed. The finish line had always seemed so far away. I was there. It was over. The husband organised a surprise party and I was already able to go public without headgear. Oh yeah. It felt wonderful to be healthy.

In November, I had this urge to shop. It was a strange feeling. Up and until then I hadn't even noticed how I was never interested in going to the shops, walking around and looking at clothes for myself. It really was like I was becoming me again. Does that make sense? For so long, I had been a shell of who I was. I didn't even know it at the time. I couldn't believe that I was still climbing the mountain of good health. Every time I thought I had reached the highest point, I would still find myself feeling even better a week later. I now understand why cancer survivors become so...triumphant? I've experienced the two extremes. Being so so sick just makes healthy absolutely amazing!

Just days before my 31st birthday I lost my big toe nail. Totally gross, I know. And, certainly a topic that would usually make me feel weak. It happened though. Losing fingernails and toe nails are one of the side effects of chemo and I really had imagined that I was well and truly past any of those. Well, my left big toe is without a brightly coloured nail. Great. Around the same time, as the toe nail incident, it occurred to me that I would be returning to work with the short hair do... I must admit that I freaked out a bit. I don't know why, really. Either I just hadn't thought about it or for some reason I had this notion that returning to work would also mean me being all back to "normal". Let's face it, I have a new normal now. And, I've seen some pretty cool, short hairstyles lately so I may try out some on my way to a shoulder length style...

I received a gift each day in the post, for the week of my birthday. Thanks husband. I then had a surprise birthday party with family and friends. That was really cool. Mum even made me a paleo fruit cake (I love fruit cake!). I'll have to post the recipe because it was beautiful!

I don't know what this next year will bring. What challenges will I face? Will I experience failure? Success? I know for sure, like so many have tried to teach me before this year, that I can enjoy every moment. Too much time is carelessly wasted on unnecessary upsets.

It's a little early for a new year resolution, I know, but it's more like a goal for this next year of my life. Here it is: I want to laugh through 2012.

Reviews

I spent too many hours sitting today. My total contact time would have been lucky to have been more than 20 minutes! It was my end-of-treatment reviews. And, it felt strange to be back in amongst the breast clinic patients.

The husband and the two children came along. So, as I stood in line, waiting to speak with the ever so helpful receptionist, I saw a familiar face. It was wonderful to catch up with one of the TBCs. (And, a little while later, I caught up with another). It felt strange (not that I'm complaining) to not be nervous. I was just going to be chatting with the doctors and there was no bad news. Right? Of course, there is no way I am anticipating any bad news!

I sat. I squirmed. I talked. One complaint though; the hospital has been pretty close to perfect. Child number two decided to complicate things with an ill timed nappy fill. I picked up the tiny, smelly child and headed for the toilets. I was happy-as when I discovered the absense of a nappy-change table. The second toilets were lacking too! I returned to the waiting room to collect the pram. (We brought the pram along reluctantly, but now I was so thankful that we did.) I wheeled the pram into the disabled toilets and proceded to do the nappy change; all the while anticipating my name being called. My name wasn't called. It was eventually though.

The physio was the first to call me in. She is the best! I really do feel as though I am the only person she sees. Anyway, my measures are the same. For this summer, at least, I am to wear the glove and the sleeve during exercise. Hey, that's not too bad. Totally manageable. Actually, she went on to say that very new research is showing (although not conclusive) that individuals who are fit and healthy before breast cancer treatment and who return to that straight after treatment are less likely to develop lymphedema. That's some motivation, right there, to keep up the good nutrition and exercise.

Next, I was called in to see the radiation doctor. I remembered this one..he liked to refer to the operation site as "boob". It is just so awkward. Is it unprofessional? I don't know. Either way, I felt pretty uncomfortable. That was doubled when he asked me to take my top off. In the past, the curtain was drawn and I would undress before the doctor would inspect. Now...he wanted me to undress right there and then. Look, I know he's not weird. It's just that there is so much fuss about a women's dignity etc that it was quite...I know I'm using this word an awful lot...uncomfortable. Lovely doctor of course. And, very kind. He explained everything in a way that made sense. Just...well, it's a very tiny complaint.

I was back in the waiting room. And, no, I didn't sit in the same seat. There were many ladies, sitting with their support person, and they were moving in and out of appointments, changing seats as much as I was.

I met with the chemo doctor after a while. I had nothing to report on the tamoxifen's side effects. My neutrophil levels were at 1.9 (should be at 2). And, I was yet to hear of my vitamin D levels. Essentially, all was well. I could have told her that. I feel well. I questioned whether I was to have a gene test. To which she replied that it was likely that I would in the new year. Within minutes, I was walking out of that appointment.

Another wait and then I met with the last doctor for the day. A member from the surgical team called me in. She didn't look at my scars (Mr "Boob" did that already) and she just asked a handful of questions. That was it. If it wasn't so-not-the-right-thing-to-do I would have run out of there. I was glad that it was finished. Such relief.

I felt sorry for the people who would be staying the night. But, I sure was happy to be going home.

Prohibitions

Well, I can't believe how good I have been feeling. I know, I never wanted to talk breast cancer again, but I just can't help myself. Actually, I was doing very well to forget about it all, until I went to Ella Bache to have a massage.

Prior to this appointment I had found myself doing, very normal, things that had not taken my interest only weeks before. Like, ironing. Yeah, I know it's weird that I like ironing. In the afternoons, when the children are napping, I usually don't mind putting on a movie and ironing clothes. The chemo really put an end to that. And, it also halted my desire to simply walk around in the shops. I have now recovered well enough for my brain to actually put such thoughts into my head. It's weird. Anyway, I'm just feeling better and better, still.

So, the massage. I had received a $100 gift voucher to be spent at Ella Bache from The Pink Pamper Pack ladies. I was, of course, looking forward to the appointment. As it turned out though, cancer patients are not permitted such luxury. The massaging actually stimulates the lymphatic system, something which is to be avoided at this time. Apparently, should there be any cancer cells floating around, the lymphatic system can be compromised. So, the massage did not go ahead. I am allowed to return for a massage in twelve months, or sooner should I present a medical certificate.

I wasn't interested in waiting twelve months to be pampered. So, I decided to go with an all-inclusive pedicure. It's a safer option. The appointment has been made. And, I will definitely enjoy it.

I'm A Survivor

I was so glad that I made the last minute change. The plan was that child one and two spend some time with their aunt and uncle. That would then free the husband and I to go out to dinner. Just the two of us. We were going to our favourite Thai restaurant (best paleo choice) and it was only up the road. So, what was the change? I changed from jeans and a t-shirt to a dress. I'm very glad I did. I don't do headgear, so my head was bear. Honestly, I'm not feeling too feminine these days. I do feel pretty damn tough though!

Anyway, as we drove to the venue, I decided on the prawn dish. The husband said that I should try something different but, I had already set my heart on it. I didn't think anything of him making such a comment. No idea. For a Sunday night, the restaurant sure sounded busy. Still no idea. I had imagined that we would be the only ones eating in. Could I be so stupid? And then, I saw a familiar face. The mother. Then another. Whoa! A crowd!

The sneaky buggers had organised a surprise dinner! Yes, I was totally surprised. Yes, I had a tear (or two) and yes, I was completely overwhelmed. We had a great night. A buffet dinner (no prawns, but that's ok).

I reckon its been long enough now to see tamoxifen's effect on me. I don't feel any different. And, the husband agreed too, that the drug hasn't altered my moods. That is a real positive.

I've noticed that most of the numbness in my right armpit has lifted. Cool.

I am now exercising every day. Just like I was before all this stuff happened. I'm normal again.

So, I'll have to talk about something else now that the "journey" is over. But wait. I think I would actually like to call the last few months my Breast Cancer Adventure. Journey just sounds so long and boring. Adventure more correctly describes the last few months: full of excitement, doing things for the first time, not knowing what was ahead, intense, emotional, crazy times.

Take that, stupid breast cancer. I'm a survivor.

My long, short hair

When I shaved my head, during chemo, I couldn't believe how short my hair was. I ran my hands through my hair non-stop. Now, I'm sure my hair is shorter, but I'm doing the same thing. Except it's because I can't believe how long it is. Perspective changes everything. I've gone from no hair to some hair and, it's a celebration.

I was thinking today how ridiculous it is. Many people have told me that my hair is so long. Let's face it, it's short as. But, yeah, I think it's long too. Sad.

Yesterday, I went into the fruit shop without headgear. Today, I wasn't feeling as confident and put something on my head when I went for a walk (my lame excuse was that my head might get sunburnt). Either way, this weekend, I'm doing it. I'm ditching the scarves. I'm ditching the wigs (they're gross anyway, they look like animals). I'm done.

I couldn't put off taking tamoxifen any later. I was absolutely fine (in a way) about taking the meds after I spoke with the chemo doctor. Then, when I went to the pharmacy, they gave me a booklet all about the drug. It freaked me out! When I took the tablet this morning, I waited for something to happen. Nothing. Good. Here's to nothing for the next five years.

Today felt like a Friday. I just felt really relaxed. Seriously, I am still getting better day by day. It's amazing. *Sings Rihanna's "Cheers"*

Same Journey, Different Drug

Of course, I was nervous about going in for my new drug. It's not about the drug though. I was anxious about giving blood. The last time I received needles it brought on some unwanted (but needed) side effects. What's worse though, is that I know that my veins have hardened (I still have bruises too). What was this going to mean? Would the nurse need to try a few times to get the blood? Was it going to hurt?

Sore. No. Yep. I looked away. Standard procedure. And, I totally expected to have worked myself up for nothing. Today, it wasn't. (TBCs, skip to the next paragraph, you don't want to know this). That was the first removal of blood that hurt. I felt the needle go in, stay there and I even felt the steel (not sure what needles are made out of, but it felt like steel) slide out, just before the nurse pushed on the small ball of cotton. I flinched. I think I even made a I'm-in-pain sound. In fact, as the blood went into the tube, I heard a slurping noise. The nurse made some comment about it being like sand. I'm not sure what that meant. The point is though, the hardened veins made for a sore withdrawal of blood.

I went for a walk, to kill the 90 minutes before my next appointment. When it was time, I took a leisurely walk through the very busy hospital. I was well. I certainly didn't feel as though I needed to be there. (Self high-five!)

Unlike previous appointments, I wasn't greeted by my smiling breast cancer buddies. There was a new crowd. I really didn't belong here anymore. I recognised a lady that I had shared radiation appointments with and we chatted until she was called in. Who would have thought, a year ago, that I would find tamoxifen, changes in cancer drugs and hair growth such stimulating conversation?

I wasn't with the chemo doctor for long. Tamoxifen is my new drug of choice. It's a chemo drug. The worst it can do is increase the chance of deep vein thrombosis by 2%. Secondary to that, is that it can bring on menopause. Too late. I'm already in that state. Although, my hot flushes seem to be less these last few days. And, honestly, there is more to enjoy about being in this state than not (you know what I'm talking about ladies!). Having said that, as a young woman, it's pretty likely that I'll come out of the menopause cupboard, even while on tamoxifen.

I felt very happy as I left the hospital today. There just have been so many moments of celebration. And, strangely enough, it seemed like today was one of those moments. The radio was loud, my scarf was off and I was the happiest driver on the road.

When I got home, I was really tired. Sorry about that family. That high just couldn't hold out for that long. But, I had some paleo ice-cream waiting for me. That was a great surprise. For real! Yeah, I know what you're thinking. What cave family would have access to an ice cream maker? Well, it doesn't matter. It's more of a cheat for child one and two. But this afternoon, the husband and I had some too.

Strawberry Ice Cream:

Tomorrow, I'll start tamoxifen. I'll then have five weeks until I see the chemo doctor again, to report, hopefully nothing, about the drug's effect on me. I wish I knew right now, how my body was going to react. But, we all love a good surprise...don't we?

Radiation Therapy 30 of 30

My cancer journey has come to an end. I have some loose ends to tie, like meeting with a few doctors, but really, it's over. I don't believe it's hit me yet. I'm sure the realisation will settle in when I don't have to rush to get the children fed and ready for bed (tomorrow), before we leave them with the babysitter, for radiation (I had requested evening appointments).

I had so many unanswered questions when I stepped into the world of breast cancer. I'll have a go at answering them.

I am not really sure that I want to go on the journey and well, if this is a journey what is my destination?

Easy. I want to arrive at a place of good health. It is in this place that I will be able enjoy my life with the husband, to see my children grow up, and to not take anything for granted. I have also come to understand that I am not in control. This is not a place that I would have liked to have visited at anytime. I'm here now though. And, it's ok.

What stations will I stop at?

I guess this is really referring to moments that I will not forget.

• Breast checks (far too many)
• Freaking out thinking that one of the machines was going to crush me (bone scan)
• Anxiety attack just before the CT Scan (in a busy waiting room)
• Fighting back nerves before the lumpectomy
• The two ladies I chatted with in Ward 4D (wish I exchanged contact details with them)
• The sensation of the (grooved) drain being pulled out of my breast
• Feeling very down after the lumpectomy
• Absolute relief when I was told of my results (celebrated with gluten-filled donuts)
• Having a gluten-party (will never do that again)
• Crushing fear
• Anxiety attack in the chemo chair
• The number of times my veins "wiggled" away from the chemo cannula
• Hair loss hurt
• Beautiful ladies I met
• My children holding balloons
• Bad fashion walk to the letterbox (all I could manage)
• Sick children
• So much generosity from family and friends
• The comfort of music
• God's faithfulness
• Scarves, hats, wigs, hoods
• Hot flushes (still getting these)
• Great doctors, nurses, receptionists
• Fear of the radiation machine
• Music and dim lighting during radiation

Will there be some pleasant stops?

Truly, there has been so much good from this experience. I have new friends, I can now better understand the needs of someone else going through this, I learnt more about myself (have changed thinking on quite a few topics), received some free life lessons and I got to spend loads of time with child one and two.

How many people will want to travel with me?

The husband and I were absolutely overwhelmed by the amount of support we received. And, it never stopped. Both our workplaces have been wonderful. Our family and friends did so much for us. Not once did we ever feel like we were doing any of this on our own. The internet allowed me to keep in contact with the TBCs and when sleepless nights became the norm it was great to be able to get on line and have a chat about side effects. Then, when I got some embarrassing side effects, I was able to share those with other chemo patients and have a good laugh about them.

And, of course, do I get to decide not to go on this journey?

From Day 1, the husband said that we would beat this. While I didn't get to choose my journey, I did get to choose my treatment. I got to choose my attitude. I got to choose life.

I'm thankful to be past this. The whole experience can be put into one sentence now; I had breast cancer at the age of 30 and I'm healthy now. Me. Cancer. I won.

Next week, I will visit the chemo doctors to receive my tablets. These tablets will keep the oestrogen levels down (my cancer was hormone receptive). And, I will be on them for five years.

But for now, I'm rejoicing in good health (it's so underrated!).

Radiation Therapy 29 of 30

I don't know how to start this blog. I tried explaining how I had initially found the breast cancer treatment so overwhelming. I then pathetically attempted to liken myself to have been on the breast cancer train (that is was slowing down at a station - totally way too corny anyway). And, when I started explaining my lack of side effects, I just felt like I was going no where. Where am I going? I can answer that one.

Tomorrow, I go to the Radiation Department to receive my final burn. Before I leave, I will be given a certificate of completion (true!) and I reckon my smile will be so big that I will have to run out of those doors sideways (my smile will be too big, of course).

I never tried to work out my end date. It was simply too overwhelming. But, I'm here. And, as one would expect, as I look back on my journey, it has gone by quickly. I am relatively unscathed, too. As I type, I enjoy running my hands over (not through yet) my head of very soft hair. On my chest, is skin a little darker in a particular area. My two scars are now two dark lines; not their former pale pink. On the inside, I feel confident that I won't be doing this again, excited that it's over and eager for next week when I know I'll feel even better than I do now.

Thank God, it's over!

End of Week 6

Another burn session completed.

Seven black dots around my lumpectomy scar are the only evidence that I have received the second phase of rad treatment. I've had such a smooth run that I feel guilty to wish for this last treatment to be without any nasty burns. I will, nonetheless. Throughout, I have been most concerned about keeping my skin moisturised. And, for this reason, I have knocked back a few opportunities to swim. Give me a few weeks. I can't wait to get in the water and let my skin dry out, or whatever it wants.

Today, I read over a handful of my earlier blogs. Those experiences seem like so long ago. And, I suppose it has been a long journey. From March of this year, I have heard far too much about breast cancer. I guess I can expect that to continue. Only now, it will be about how I don't have it. Do you think I'm smiling as I type this?

As the husband and I drove to the hospital, this evening, we (seriously) were discussing how this has been, surprisingly, a great year. Yeah, yeah, there have been some lows. But, overall it's been pretty amazing! That probably makes my life before April 4 sound awful. It wasn't. Truly. Anyway, who would want to give cancer the satisfaction of ruining more than a few cells. Not me.

Yesterday, I saw my physio for the last time. That's sad. Look at my word choice. I actually refer to her as "my physio". I know I have mentioned this so many times, but the staff have just been so incredible. So supportive, professional, diligent, attentive, encouraging, sincere, patient, generous... At any other time I would have looked upon the sign "Enter as strangers, leave as friends," in the radiation department, as corny. But, that really sums up what the staff desire in their work place. The men and women remember what was spoken about the day before, they are interested in my family and have shared my excitement in coming to the end of my treatment. It's strange. How do I explain to the radiation doctor, the physio and radiation therapists and the receptionists, who have shown nothing but kindness, that I never want to see them again? That's not being ungrateful is it?

I am going to start lifting weights tomorrow. I am so keen to do a workout. I feel totally ready for it.

Radiation Therapy 26 of 30

I couldn't see the speckled ceiling tonight.

My radiation treatment is different now. For the last 25 treatments the machine, which has a circular face, would aim for an identified square around my right breast. Now though, the treatment is to focus on the cavity; this is where the cancerous tumour was removed. I'm told, that it's the final "mop up". Should the surgeon not have removed enough tissue, should the chemo not have killed off all cancer then these final burn sessions should do the trick. Attached to the circular face of the machine is an applicator. The applicator stretches from the face of the machine to within centimetres of the cavity. The treatment is only superficial. So there is no risk of the radiation damaging organs, even though it is administered front-on.

While the therapists lined me up (the measurements will be recorded and my last four appointments will be a lot quicker), I noticed my name on a metal plate. At the point closest to my cavity was a small plate. It had an oval-like shape cut out. I questioned the nurse to which she replied that the plate was especially made for my five treatments. It directed the laser to the exact measurements of the cavity. Wow! I felt pretty special. That small plate is very expensive. And then, at the end of it all, it will be melted down and used to create another for a future patient.

Of course, I asked the lady whether this would be painful. It's not. Now, the dark square would heal. It is only the cavity that will continue to burn. Enough about cavities...

As the machine "beeped" (this is what it does when the laser is on) I counted slowly to 25. That was it. I heard footsteps and then I was told to relax my arms. The whole appointment took 15 minutes. It was a good thing too, because I had the husband and the two children waiting for me.

I am still sporting some crazy looking fingernails. And, I am so surprised that I am still having hot flushes. It's really annoying. I still get the night sweats too. I'll have to check with the chemo doctors (next month) to ask how long all this menopause stuff is going to hang around.

I'm feeling pretty good. I'm probably a lot more tired than I'd like to admit though. Even though I'm not having naps, or feeling particularly sleepy, I am definitely not as motivated as I would usually be. That's ok, I suppose.

Radiation Therapy 25 of 30

I was on my back. My upper arms were held in place by arms rests. Both hands clutched a bar each, above my head. I looked up. It would have been nice to stare at a beach scene or a colourful garden (like dentists often have). Instead, my view was the same as that of a school classroom's ceiling. You know, the off-white rectangles with a scattering of tiny black dots. The two radiation therapists alternated between talk of measurements and general chit-chat. I smiled. I was pretending to be interested in what they had to say. I tried desperately to block out Savage Garden's overplayed "The animal song" (hang on, I would do that anywhere...). The fact is, I had just been told some exciting news and I wanted to shout it out.

Today, was the last of my current radiation treatment. My last five days of treatment will focus on burning the cavity. I know I'm not finished, but man, I was so excited!

When I returned to the car, I cried as I tried to explain to the husband the change in treatment. He totally did not get the tears. They were tears of joy. And, probably also of relief. I don't know what I'm going to be like on Tuesday, of next week.

Actually, there was more good news. Tuesday was confirmed as my date of completion. I had this feeling that I might receive another day off; delaying my finish. Not so.

During chemo, the husband and I spent quite a bit of time brainstorming ways of celebrating. Now that we are days away from hitting our final destination, we have no idea what we are going to do. Either way, I am going to find it very difficult to be still during that last radiation treatment.

End of Week 5

Last weekend, my right, upper arm had felt swollen and heavy. I wasn't sure what caused it. This weekend, I have the same feeling in my arm. I know what it is now. The rads. It's nothing too serious. And, I know that it will go away.

The hair on my head is growing! Actually, my scalp doesn't look so fair anymore. It's nearly the same colour as my face. It's sad. It won't get to see the sun again. Too bad! Bring on the full head of hair. I now have enough hair on my legs to wax! I have never, ever looked so forward to removing leg hair as I am right now.

Today, I was carrying child number two (this one gets babied too much!) and running, when child number one stopped to ask, "Mum, aren't you tired?". Child number one was so used to me declining to do stuff because I was tired that it had become a habit to ask such a question. I was so proud to respond that I wasn't tired, that chemo was over and that I won't be so tired again. Bam! Take that chemo. Take that rads!

I did some exercise yesterday. It was just a twelve minute AMRAP of 10 sit-ups, 10 air squats and 10 box jumps. I was very slow. At one point I felt sick. Anyway, that little workout has given me the kick-start to get back into the exercise. For a good while now, I have been trying to do a pull up. We have bars at the back and I decided that every time I went to the backyard I would just try. Surely, by trying so often, eventually I would have the strength to be able to do one... Yes. Success at last. For the first time, I did an unassisted pull up. I was so thrilled. I have since been able to do another. It's probably taken a good few months to get that one. This week, I really want to start focussing on doing two. The doctor had actually told me not to do them but, hey, if it makes you feel good...

I'll be seeing the doctor tomorrow. I'll have nothing to report. I'll be smiling.