Monday, 5 November 2007

Brief Update

It'll be two weeks tomorrow since I had someone poking around in my brain. It's still a very odd thought, and one I don't think I've quite got the grasp of yet. Everything happened so quickly, I haven't had time to take in what's happened.

It's almost a year since I found out the cancer had spread beyond where it originated, and to my liver.
22nd November 2006, was the day I found out I had 'incurable' metastatic cancer. I didn't expect then, that less than a year later, it would be in my brain and my bones too. I hoped I'd have more time.

I've since learned that according to those "damned lies and statistics" that I should be dead by now. After a diagnosis of liver mets, I should have had 6-12 months to live.
I'm not sure how I feel about knowing all these time frames now. According to the numbers, the liver mets are still more likely to get to me, before the brain mets do.

I've also learned in the past couple of weeks, that of the people who're taking herceptin for breast cancer, around 50% will go on to develop brain mets. That's a pretty high number.

Any diagnosis of cancer is scary.
Diagnosis od secondary, incurable cancer is incredibly scary. My world came crashing down when I found out about the liver secondaries.
It didn't seem quite so bad when I found out about the bone secondaries. But I knew that didn't really change my prognosis.
But finding out it's in my brain seems to have taken it to a whole knew incomprehensible level.

I have no idea how to feel about it. No idea what to say to other people about it. No idea how to make my family and friends feel any better about it now.
Chances are that in a years time, my parents will have no daughter, and my friends will be a friend down.

I was very upset about all this, a couple of weeks ago. But now it's like my foggy brain isn't really acknowledging it. I don't feel like I'm feeling it. Which is probably not being helped by not being able to think straight, or concentrate. And not helped by this permanently fuzzy feeling in my head, which is making my life seem less real, somehow. I don't really feel alive anymore.

Tomorrow, I have my oncology appointment, where I'll probably find out when the whole brain radiation should start, and how many sessions I should be having.
There's something to look forward to. Nothing like a bit of brain frying to knock you off your feet again!
I'll lose my hair again, and it may or may not grow back. I know it often doesn't.

I'm still having trouble with my vision, balance, hearing, etc. So typing's a slow process. But I'm grateful that I can at least see well enough to look at screen now.

I still feel much worse than before I had surgery. But still hoping it'll get better, and that I can have some decent quality of life while I'm still here.


Anonymous said...

I am amazed at your strength and bravery...
I can't even find anything to say to try and make you feel better - so i'm not even going to try and make up some crap.

What you've been through and continue to live through is horrible. I wish I could take it all away.

Just know that you are constantly in my thoughts and prayers.


Tanya said...

Thank you for writing and giving us an update despite how difficult it is for you.

I wish there was something I could do, I wish there was a "right" thing to say.

All the best with the oncologist appointment. I will be thinking of you.

More hugs from Canada,

Especially Heather said...

I am praying for you... daily.

Hold onto hope.

Jeannette said...


You have so much vibrancy and continue to embrace each moment no matter your situation. I am in awe of you and I keep you in my prayers.