It has been a week since my last entry. So much has happened. My energy crashed along with struggling to understand how a blog works. My life has spun around. Will it return to vaguely similar? Do I want it to? New career prospects, new home, new eating habits, new neck complete with skin colour and tautness?
My 9-year-old daughter has sung and danced her way through another school Christmas Concert. I have been wished well by several parents in an uncomfortable, over-filled theatre foyer.
The Top Dog on my case, Dr Brutal, Head of Ear, Nose and Throat, dropped the worst case scenarios on me last Wednesday, having rifled a nasty scope up and along my nasal passages. Reduced me to weeping and gripping my husband's arm hard. Cancerous Tumour, T3 (medium stage) most likely, T4a (possible recovery, virtually terminal) if it has entered muscle tissue, T4b, in the bone (forget it, you probably won't have long to live). He was mildly reassuring while blunt. More information overload.
Despite an agonising 40-minute wait to see this man, we were out in time to enjoy a supportive meeting with a friend by the seafront. A quick turnaround back to the Oncology Unit for a prolonged and delayed session with Nurse Kate on how to look after my skin during radiology. "It will burn. You must use Sorbolene at least three times a day, in the morning, before and after the treatment and last thing at night," I think she said. Haven't absorbed all these instructions yet.
She said a lot of other things and gave me a fat folder of handouts none of which I can recall.
Social worker Vicky stole us while we waited for Kate, telling us about the additional Carer's Payment Michael may be eligible for through Centrelink. We had a long yack about nothing I can recall.
Thursday was a distasteful trip down memory lane to the Local Mental Health Centre, which I frequented often in my late 20's and 30's. Suspicious at first of the slender hippy chick psychiatrist she was actually okay. Later that day she rang to say she had written a letter to move us along in priority government housing.
Friday is a complete blank. A chap at a 12-Step meeting at which I had shared about my cancer said "my level of acceptance was inspiring". I was grateful for that.
I had my usual lovely Saturday morning with friends and 12-step members. Managed to score a couple of $2 skirts from the church op-shop I can wear.
My daughter fell sick on Sunday, earache and fever. This was upsetting and depressing as she sickens just before her Christmas concert each year. She said she was more anxious about me than anything. My behaviour lapsed into occasional shrieks of frustration. It would've been better for all of us if I had gone to church.
Amy was drugged and dispatched to school on Monday. I heaved a sigh of "Thank God" when the final curtain plummeted. A planned ice-cream trip post-show was aborted when the shop had closed down. Not a fabulous night. Still.
Tuesday, dentist!! Pommy Andrew, who likes to admire his 'masterpieces' went to town on my mouth, scaling and cleaning and plying me with top shelf toothpaste for "sensitive teeth prone to decay". Not that mine were too bad considering, he said. "You mustn't have a sweet tooth". I've only lived on ice-cream pretty much since the biopsy on 11/11/11 at 11am. He also gave me a mousse, like tooth conditioner, with bulk fluoride to bolster my enamel. Vanilla flavour. Yum! Something that tastes good at last.
I saw him again today. Despite having my trismatised mouth (left side lock jaw) prised open for over an hour we had quite a jolly time while he repaired a filling and polished another. Talking about the horrors of tooth whitening toothpaste and bleaching treatments, and pros of coffee.
My BFF, Sam, escorted me today into my journey of pain horror. It was lovely to have such a caring friend pick me up and be there for me, take such an active interest in the cancer.
Dentist, final questions with ENT, the formal date for start of my treatment, chemo and radiation therapy is set. Monday, December 12, 2011. Bring it on.
One disturbing wound continues to bother me.... more than some others. The centre of my hard palate feels raw, like it's been sliced open and the area refuses to heal. What is that? The cancer?
Thanks to Sam being so generous with her time, I have also connected with The Cancer Foundation today. They were welcoming and responsive. Left with a load of booklets and calls to come back whenever. Now just two wisdom teeth to be extracted on Tuesday. Fun, fun, fun. And Amy has her orthodontist appointment on Monday. Another big tooth week for the family. A few days to recover and read the literature before Treatment begins in earnest!!
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