8. Meeting My Oncologist
The days I had to go to Derry started exceptionally early. On one occasion we had to get up at 5.30am to do what we needed to do and then make it to Derry on time for my appointment. The first thing that had to be done was to walk Bella. Paschal did that. I’d get myself ready, however this wasn’t as easy as it used to be now we had Bella. She would come back from her walk and jump all over me, wet paws or not; putting a dressing gown on over my clothes solved that! When we’d leave the house, I always got into the car first, and waited, while Paschal got Bella settled. I felt bad leaving her because, I didn’t think she was ready to be left on her own, and it was my fault. My parents, though, came out during the day to look after her, which, as I said before, was a big help and gave me some peace of mind.
On the day I was due to meet my oncologist for the first time, I left the house with a folder of booklets in hand and a head full of the unknown, to be honest I didn’t really know what to expect. As well as meeting my oncologist that day, I also had to go to the Breast Screening Unit to have markers inserted into my boob. These were metal clips to mark the areas of the lumps, so should the chemotherapy do its job and melt the lumps, the surgeon would know the area that needed to be removed. At the time none of this worried me, I wasn’t concerned about anything that had to be done. It was just a matter of let’s do it! It was like an outer body experience and happening to someone else. Looking back, I was on edge, adrenaline pumping through my body, like it did at the start line of a cycling sportive! Except this time I wasn’t getting on a bike, I was off to learn about the cycles of chemo I’d be getting.
We got to the Breast Screening Unit. It was only my third visit, but already it was becoming very normal. Announce myself at the reception, put on a pink wrap around jacket and go to the waiting room. That didn’t phase me, although sitting in the waiting room you really got a sense of cancer. The horrible reality, that it doesn’t know any bounds, it can happen to anyone. There was a young girl, sitting on her own. The reality made me not think so much of myself, but rather to be grateful for what I had. Not lucky, but grateful!
I was called and down I went to the room I’d been in previously, where the biopsies were done. It was the consultant who did the biopsies. I thanked her for being so thorough and making sure everything was examined. She was going to insert the clips. My boob was numbed and she explained what was going to happen. While doing the procedure she said, “if you’re going to have cancer this is the type you want”. I knew what she meant, and that it was meant to be positive, but I remember thinking I don’t want any type of cancer in my body. As I’ve learned since, when talking to others, this is something that seems to be said to a lot of people and no-one has said they have found it helpful or reassuring. The procedure wasn’t painful and only took a few minutes. Another step done!
I then had my first appointment at the North West Cancer Centre, to meet my oncologist. That word, oncologist, I always thought as being someone who had one of the most important jobs, helping people who had cancer. That was now me, it was difficult to get my head around that reality. I just kept thinking it was going to be ok, I wouldn’t let myself feel what I was feeling, scared! Altnagelvin Hospital seemed like such a big area when I first went there, but I was very quickly becoming familiar with the place.
Myself and Paschal walked over to the Cancer Centre, it seemed quite a walk as I didn’t know where we were going, but it wasn’t really. As we walked up to the door Paschal saw a car he recognised from Fermanagh, and of course, being Paschal, he knew who it was! We had a chat and the person wished me good luck, saying it was a tough road. Although I understood I had a lot ahead of me I really didn’t know what that was, so just matter of factly I said thank you. It was like I’d just given into it, this was my future, well I really didn’t have any choice.
In we went to the Cancer Centre. It was quiet, thankfully. As people walked in and out I looked at them, looked at their head. I wondered were they wearing a wig, had they lost their hair? I could feel the emotion set in. Was this real?! As we waited I could feel the whole emotion in me knowing there was a lot ahead of me, but at the same time not knowing what. Myself and Paschal are not PDA (public display of affection) type of people, but Paschal reassuringly held my hand knowing I was struggling.
I was called and brought to the oncologists room. This was someone I had never met before but instantly I depended on him and I trusted his decisions and advice. He talked to me about what was going to happen, confirming the treatment plan. One of my questions was if I had a mastectomy at this stage, could I forego chemotherapy? I remember being very definite and sure of myself saying that if I had to have chemo that was fine, I knew I was strong enough for it, that wasn’t a problem, but I wondered if it was necessary? To have chemotherapy was going to mean I was going to be outside of my life for a substantial amount of time. He said I would still need to have chemotherapy. Ok so, that was that decided, move on!
There were handouts of information on the type of chemotherapy I would get, docetaxel, carboplatin, targeted treatment phesgo. Lists and lists of side effects, I tried not to think about it, I had no option but to just get on with it! Although, I did have another very important question for him, which was could I drink the odd glass of wine during my treatment? I didn’t drink much anymore, but I enjoyed a glass of wine at the weekend. I was told I could have a “little, little” amount of wine. It sounded so little I decided there’d be no point! He looked at vitamins and supplements I was taking and I was advised not to take any. I’d read about the benefits of CBD oil for people going through treatment and asked if it was something that would be helpful. I was told it was preferable not to take this as it could affect my blood and, therefore, affect being able to receive treatment. I was given the option of starting treatment the following week or the week after that. I said next week, i didn't want to waste time, get started, get finished!
After this I was directed to nurses who took my observations, weight, height and blood pressure. This would all become very routine. They asked how my veins were and if I needed a picc line. I didn’t know what a picc line was. It was explained to me that the veins become tired as treatment progresses so a picc line is used to administer the treatment. I refused it saying my veins were fine. I was going to make sure my veins were fine. I didn’t want something hanging from my arm, I knew exactly what was going on, I didn’t need something to remind me.
The nurses told me I would need to come back up for another appointment before chemotherapy started. This was a pre-education session. It was all happening so fast and just getting so real! They spoke to me about getting a wig and gave me a contact number. Paschal could see I was overwhelmed and becoming emotional, so to lighten the mood, he asked the nurses, while he was there, if they would measure his height also. Myself and Paschal have had a running debate about who’s taller. I always thought it was me. I knew exactly what he was doing. To his feigned delighted it turned out he’s taller. We explained to the nurses what he was doing and they enjoyed the craic of it, in the middle of all this we were still, in jest, going to settle an ongoing debate…and as usual I was wrong!
So we left Derry that day, 2 markers heavier, with more information, an education session planned and an ECHO to be organised, all before everything was due to begin, in only one week’s time! I told myself, one day at a time and each step as it comes, don’t look too far ahead!