Two years ago today I attended my first colposcopy appointment. I was 29 years old and I had just had my second baby. I was pretty much exuding happiness, tired happiness, but happiness nonetheless. Cancer. It’s a word none of us want to hear, ever. Not for ourselves or for those around us. It’s deceitful, it’s cunning and sly. It hides and it eludes is. It puts those who are diagnosed with it through hell (and that’s putting it mildly). It’s the word I heard by the end of that first appointment. As time goes by I become increasingly aware that I’m able to examine this memory from different angles.…
Oh goodness, it’s been such a long time since I did a proper update. Things have been hard in so many ways. Now I’m just trying to think of where to begin to really update you. I guess a while back in July seems a good place to start, when I first heard the term “long term prospects” and was told that palliative care would be starting to had over to the pain clinic. This was amazing news but with the end of my radiotherapy came the beginning of my neuropathy. Neuropathic pain is notoriously hard to manage. There are drugs available to help but they often aren’t the loan…
We got an unexpected call from my oncology team, Friday evening to give us some news that niether of us were expecting. My scan had shown many small blood clots in my pelvis and lungs, and I needed to begin treatment, fast.
And now for something completely different! I’m not usually a poet, but, the other night my tiniest girl was having trouble sleeping, and it just sort of popped into my head. Who knows where it came from, but didn’t Percey Shelley do some of his best writing on opiates or something? I’ll not be the poet laureate anytime soon, but I thought it was rather fun and that I’d share x
Hello all! I expect if you’re here you’re either a mum of a little, or looking for a gift for a mum with a baby, or maybe you’re just a really devoted blog reader (all of the above just makes you lovely). But this post is about the baby stick-down table wear brand called Bamboo Bamboo. Wildly raved about on the BLW (that’s baby led weaning) pages and groups as great stick down plates and bowls made from, you guessed it, bamboo!
My goodness. I am SO phenomenally lucky to have so many incredible people around me right now. I don’t want to sound like I’m overly gushing, but I feel so lucky. This Happy Mail has a bit more of a background to it. You see, the sender is a very courageous young woman whom I happened to be friends with at school. Her name is Stephie, and when I remember her at school I think of one of the bubbliest, most vivacious girls. We just sort of lost touch as everyone chose different colleges and different universities and all of a sudden there was adult life.
I don’t know how to put this chapter of my life to bed. The one that saw me diagnosed with cervical cancer at 29. The one that put me back on a surgeons operating table, for better or worse.
For those who do not know, in December I was told it was “highly likely” I had cervical cancer. In early January this was confirmed, the next day I met with a surgeon who talked through the procedure I required.
He doesn’t get enough credit, truth be told. The man that has been propping me up since my pregnancy with our second baby begun.
Tonight I sit on a fold out bed in a hospital room on a children’s ward watching you sleep. You are here because you don’t seem to like your milk, and as such you don’t eat enough.