Journeys of Me

Tag: cancer

  • The Countdown has Begun.

    The Countdown has Begun.

    Consistency with this blog hasn’t been great – but in my defense, there’s been a bit going on. And I can’t see that consistency improving in the immediate future… but we’ll see.

    Putting that surgery countdown up was confronting. There’s something about seeing an actual number that makes everything feel very real, very quickly.

    The problem with being a nurse is that you know just enough to be dangerous to yourself. You understand the risks, the complications, the “what ifs”… but you don’t always have the comfort of certainty. It’s a strange place to be – somewhere between knowledge and not quite knowing.

    I’m very aware that I’m high risk for surgery, and if I’m honest, I’ve been quite angry at myself for that. But there’s no value in staying there. All I can do now is focus on what I can control and do everything possible to support a good recovery.

    The timing has been an interesting journey in itself. My surgery was originally booked for May 18, then moved to June 3 – which, at the time, felt like a gift. More time to think, to process, to get organised, and to feel ready.

    And then it moved again – forward to May 20.

    My brain hasn’t quite caught up with that yet.

    I had a lovely, well thought out list of everything I wanted to do beforehand. Some of it is done, some of it isn’t, and I’ve had to accept that prioritising is part of this process too.

    It’s interesting where your mind goes at times like this. The things that suddenly feel important aren’t always what you would expect.

    One of mine has been finishing a word doc/book I started some time ago, titled “Gone – but still telling you what to do!” – a title my boys appreciated.

    It’s a collection of everything: health information, finances, practical details, letters, wishes… all the things you don’t think about until you have to. I understood the importance of it before after having lived through John’s passing, but it moved much higher up the priority list.

    There’s a fine line between being prepared and not wanting to face it at all.

    I have had enduring guardianship and power of attorney in place, as appropriate, for years, but I’ve now also completed a formal Advance Care Directive. The boys already know my wishes – but sometimes it’s about making things easier, not just for yourself, but for the people you love.

    Reading this back, it all sounds a bit morbid.

    The reality is – I fully expect to come through surgery, feel pretty awful for a while, frustrate everyone (including myself) because I can’t do what I normally do… and then gradually get strong again.

    And travel.

    In fact, I may have just booked another cruise for March next year – optimistically assuming the compression sleeve will be gone by then – along with the month long cruise already planned from Vancouver to Sydney via Hawaii in October.

    Because if there’s one thing this has done, it’s reminded me – quite clearly – not to keep putting things off. And for me – a major procrastinator – that has been quite a lesson!

    Hearing that ‘C’ word related to yourself, even in its early stages, has a way of sharpening your perspective.

    So I’ve been finishing things. John’s scrapbook album, Mum’s, mine, our travel books—and now I am organising the boys’. There’s something about completing them that feels important, like closing chapters properly.

    And, if I’m honest, scrap booking has also been my escape. It keeps my hands busy and my mind quiet, which is sometimes exactly what I need.

    This blog was always meant to be about my journey – travel, retirement, and whatever else life decides to bring along. It seems that, for now, this is where the journey begins.

    When I retired, I expected change – but I didn’t expect the wave of kindness and friendship that followed. The messages, the support, the people who have reached out and kept in touch – it has meant more than I can say.

    It’s also made me aware of the quieter spaces – those I thought would stay connected who haven’t. And that’s okay. Life moves on for all of us, and I haven’t exactly been reaching out either.

    And to my friends overseas, who I haven’t kept in touch with as well as I should have… I will do better. And we will meet again, in about 18 months.

    Until next time – enjoy your story, wherever it takes you.

    And don’t forget to tell the people you love that you do.

  • Update – a new direction.

    Update – a new direction.

    They say life is what happens when you’re making plans.

    That couldn’t be more true in my case.

    Since retiring, I’ve spent a lot of time planning the year ahead -especially around travel. I even had my next blog post written. I’d decided to move it to Facebook just for the safari, as I hadn’t had time to work out WordPress before we left.

    But I didn’t get to post it. I had a doctor’s appointment.

    That appointment changed everything.

    I had found a lump under my arm and had briefly wondered about breast cancer, but I’d had a mammogram just five months earlier and it had been clear. I wasn’t surprised when my doctor sent me for a scan, and I decided to hold off on posting the blog – it was such a good one too! 🙂

    After several scans and a biopsy, the results came back: metastatic melanoma. While I knew it wasn’t good, it took a while to really sink in that this was going to change my plans.

    I am someone who tends to “hibernate” when I have something to absorb or process, so that’s what I did. I just didn’t want to “people.”

    One of the hardest things was telling the boys. They had already lost their dad to leukaemia, and telling them their mother had melanoma was not easy.

    Ian, as always, stepped in and took charge—organising things, taking me to appointments, making sure everything was happening as it should. Brendan is very much like me and withdraws when he needs to process things quietly. Lachlan is the opposite – he needs to talk everything through, and then talk about it again.

    We all cope in our own ways.

    On the day I was supposed to be flying to Singapore, Ian and I went to Westmead for my first appointment with the oncologist. My GP had suggested him, even though it meant travelling a bit further, and I’m very glad she did. I feel comfortable with the team and confident in the care I’m receiving. They did offer the option of transferring to the local hospital, but I’ve chosen to stay where I am.

    We came away from that appointment feeling more positive. I won’t be having chemotherapy – which was a big fear after watching John go through it. Instead, immunotherapy has proven to be more effective for melanoma. We talked about my travel plans, among many other things, and at this stage, there is no reason I shouldn’t still be able to travel later this year – possibly even as early as August, as originally planned.

    Since then, I’ve had two rounds of immunotherapy (via IV), three weeks apart. I’ve also met with the surgeon, as I will almost certainly need surgery to remove up to three “layers” of lymph nodes.

    That was the first time I cried.

    I had known surgery was a possibility, but in my mind it was something relatively minor – an overnight stay, maybe a couple of nights. After meeting with the surgeon, it was clear it would be a 5–6 hour operation, followed by 5+ weeks with a drain and the need to wear compression garments. For some reason, that upset me more than the diagnosis itself.

    Next week brings more blood tests and another PET scan. The following Monday I see the oncologist again, and Tuesday the surgeon, so I should know more then.

    So why am I back writing this blog, when it was originally meant to be a travel blog?

    It seems the title proved to be more apt than I realised and while, eventually, it will still include my travel, I have decided to document the other journeys and directions my life has taken.

    I am a writer – if I have something on my mind, I need to get it out of my head to help process it, and I do that by writing it down – often in the middle of the night.

    So a small warning – this is how I write. There’s no artifice here. What you see is what you’ll get. At times it may be more than you expected, but it will always be honest. This is me, just as I am.

    This is, in part, cathartic for me. But there is also a part of me that doesn’t want to quietly disappear. Since retiring, and for many reasons, I’ve felt a lack of connection with people, and I’m finding that a little challenging.

    I also hope that, in some small way, this might help someone else – whether they are going through something similar themselves, or supporting someone who is. When John was diagnosed and going through treatment, I would have really valued hearing from someone who understood. In many ways, that was how my (still unfinished) book began – but that’s another story.

    Until next time, enjoy your story—wherever it takes you.