Tag Archives: Breast cancer

Here we go again …

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If I want to enjoy my balcony on weekdays, it has to be before 06.30 – that is the time they start shouting and laughing (standing and sitting right next to each other – are they deaf since they need to be so loud)?

Seven AM sharp – engines on and running and more noise, this morning giant cobble-stones being shifted from one pile to another. I have asked the neighbours from hell several times whether I and my neighbours will have at least ONE week this year where we can stay at home, with balcony doors open, and not have to leave our homes evey day to escape the noise. One week on my balcony, in my own home, for the first time since 2017? I am so tired and feel I am losing my mind. But they don’t even read their e-mails, let alone reply to them.

I am seriously thinking of cancelling the bridge evening at my place tonight. I have had a form of sciatica for months which my orthopedist says is most likely caused by stress, and am taking stronger and stronger painkillers which do not really take the pain away but cause severe brainfog (finally starting physiotherapy later this month). Somebody suggested another four weeks of “Reha”, but I really need to be in my own home, and also, much as I enjoyed my four weeks in Sankt-Peder Ording in November/December 2022, the food was not healthy (despite being a clinic specialising in post-cancer-recovery, and I am told that was one of the better places in that regard.

I JUST NEED TO BE ABLE TO SPEND TIME IN AND OUT OF MY BALCONY, CHILLING, AND GOING OUT TO PLACES BECAUSE I WANT TO AND NOT IN ORDER TO GET AWAY FROM HERE.

Cresco Capital Group

In terms of plans for the future

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I am dithering between wanting “The Big C” to take more of a back seat for me when I go home (except for the lifestyle-related anti-recurrence and anti-boneloss strategies, of course), or starting some sort of support system for young women with young children diagnosed with breast cancer, or any kind of cancer, for that matter, but breast cancer is what I hear about these days.

It seems to affect more and more young women, and even more and more women while they are pregnant. I have mentioned this before, but I find it mind-boggling. They then have the labour induced in week 36 so that they can start chemo as soon as possible (and chemo, by all accounts) is beyond awful, but my thoughts on that is for a future post). A newborn baby, perhaps a toddler at home, and crippling chemo (and of course therefore no breastfeeding). In what was supposed to be the best years of their life.

I simply can’t imagine how they cope and what that does to a young family.

IN PROGRESS

In-between walk

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In between the morning gym class and the afternoon aquafitness training, I went on this walk, enjoying the last of the autumn colours. Still windswept. I made a pitstop for coffee in Café Siercks. (In a later post, I will list the cafés and restaurants I have been visiting and which – since they are still open in November – will presumably be open all winter).

Denial is our Spitzenkompetenz

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We are all afraid of cancer, but when the symptoms are staring us in the face, we don’t see them.

I have probably mentioned some of this before, but I still can’t believe how I could have been such an idiot.

Despite feeling more and more tired starting in late winter and early spring 2022 – a kind of fatigue which on hindsight I had never known before – combined with weightloss – I should have known something was wrong. My excuse now is that that is something that sneaks up on you, and you put it down to spring fatigue, or getting old, …..

But when in combination with the fatigue (and therefore going on shorter and shorter walks, giving Max to the dogwalker more and more frequently), it suddenly became a lot easier to lose weight (I had been trying, like most people 😊 half-heartedly for years) – the kilos seemed to be falling off me – what was my reaction? That taking those two factors into consideration – something must be wrong? Naah. I only focused on the weightloss and thought – NICE!

Until the invitation in June to the public mammography screening, which probably came just in the nick of time for me.

So please, people, pay attention to your wellbeing, THINK a little, and go to all the public screenings you are invited to.

Rule of thumb, I’m told, is that any change, however minor, that lasts more than two weeks – go to your GP and start the detective work. Better safe than sorry.

It is NOT always “too late anyway, once you have those symptoms”, even when it comes to cancer. I am living, walking proof of that. As are right now all my fellow “inmates” of all ages here in this clinic.

No Title :-)

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Many people had „warned“ me that there would be a lot of talk about cancer, and a lot of fellow patients who define themselves via their sickness. All things considered, I have not yet found that to be the case. In fact, people seem to strike a balance which is just right.

The one thing everybody here has in common is a recent cancer diagnosis (for some not so recent, and in the meantime, they have been through gruelling rounds of various treatments and therapies and lived with the uncertainty and/or the fear of recurrence, for a long time), and now we are all here for a break, to get away from it all, and to regain mobility and mental and physical strength to go back and get on with our lives.

Despite the fact that cancer affects about one in three or four of us all, so that it actually should not come as such a shock, this diagnosis is crushing, even life-changing, and only others with that experience can understand the enormity. If the subject comes up from time to time in a facility such as this one, in between talking about every other subject under the sun, I find that a normal step in the process of healing and moving on, and quite therapeutic.

Changing the subject, I caught this stork basking past my balcony in the late-afternoon sunlight:

Bootcamp continued

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After an hour of gymnastics and an hour with the instructor in the fitness room, it took some convincing to go for a walk in the afternoon. It was also very foggy, so I did not go far.

Sunday – a day off

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With the Corona restrictions, and a very small fitness room, the access to the use of a yoga mat and hand weights is pretty much non-existent, so I am unable to do the exercises I need to do every day (weight-bearing and stretching).

My room is nice and big and has plenty of floorspace, so I have now ordered a foldable yoga mat and some therabands on amazon, and then Gabi Fastner will have to come to the rescue yet again :-). I really don’t know what I would have done without that woman the last couple of years, except gone fat and stiff.

Last night in the zoom course, we were given the assignment to submit six photos that are questionable technically but perhaps still worth keeping for one reason or another. I thought then that – nah, I have too many other things in my head, I am not even going to think about that assignment and will probably not submit any photos this time around.

And then today I went out and took a sh..load of truly cr.. photos. It was such a bright day, and there is so much light here in any case, that I had trouble exposing properly, and – also because of the bright light, I could not really see what was going on on the camera screen, so the full extent of the disasters were only fully revealed to me when I got back to my room.

And to top it all, I ended with a double exposure which, although fun to play around with, I find quite tacky but it is easily done by mistake on my camera.

Still, I find it all quite amusing so I am adding some of them here.

I walked a total of nearly 20 km. Here is most of the route on Mapmywalk.

And finally, rounded off the day with mussles steamed in white wine in Restaurant Buongiorno very close to the clinic.

Finding my bearings. It’s a bit like bootcamp

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I and one other newbie were met at the station in Heide(Holst.) and chauffeured to the clinic. Check-in and first introductions. Everybody is very friendly and all is running smoothly.

First thing Friday, blood etc tests, and consultation with a doctor to establish a plan of action.

Had my first neck- and shoulder massage by a super nice masseuse. Later, she will also have a go at the area around my scars, which feels very tight.

Today introduction to the back exercise sessions, and used the fitness room and the swimming pool (swimming felt a little weird, but good), before the zoom course mentioned earlier.

And then I expect yet another good night’s sleep – it is completely quiet and pitch dark here :-).

By the way: Let’s get the Corona rules out of the way: Everyone wears masks everywhere and at ALL times except in one’s own room, while eating, and while in the pool. Even in the clinic’s café we have to put the masks back on between sips of coffee, even if we sit meters away from the next person. Luckily, so far, we have a lovely Indian summer and are able to use the terrace outside the café. Visitors are not allowed anywhere in the clinic. We self-test every morning and keep a record, signed, and they trust us be truthful (considering the vulnerability of some people here I doubt anybody would be stupid enough to not be). Every Friday, we hand in the recorded results and pick up new tests for the week.

Mealtimes have been split into two shifts and organised so that only two people sit at each four-person table at the same time, and diagonally across from each other, and at the other shift, the next two people sit at the other seats. Sounds complicated, but it works really smoothly. It does mean that everyone has one designated seat throughout, which kind of limits the number of people one gets a chance to talk to, but on the other hand, people leave and new people arrive three times a week anyway, which is not conducive to making permanent friends. There are group activities, and in addition “extracurricular” activities that we can sign up for if our busy (I’m not kidding) schedules permit, such as qi gong, pilates, yoga, and walks.

A couple of photos from my walks in the area and in the garden surrounding the clinic.

Here some from a quick morning walk around the garden on a misty Saturday morning:

And here it becomes really obvious that Lightroom is not the best software for post-processing of Fujifilm photos. Grainy, wormy …. It is conventional wisdom but my brain is still a bit too fuzzy to even think about learning the software (Capture One) that everybody recommends.

On my way

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Armed with a negative PCR test from yesterday, I am excited to be on my way to Sankt Peter-Ording for my “Reha”. My “main” suitcase was sent on its merry way on Monday. I can relatively comfortably lift the smaller suitcase with the things I prefer to keep with me in my chronic mistrust of the German courrier services.

Three weeks have been booked, but I have heard and read so many good things about Hamm Klinik Nordfriesland that I am already hoping to stay for one more week. My sickness insurance approved maximum four weeks, so it is up to the medical team there to decide. I am not quite sure which criteria I will have to fulfill.

I am not very familiar with the concept of Rehabilitation. I remember that when my brother and I were children, in Denmark in the 1950s and -60s, there was talk of our mother going on “rekreation” after two (unrelated) major surgeries. I can’t remember if she actually went. Back then, I think the idea was that housewives needed rest directly after leaving hospital in order not to be expected back in the kitchen immediately. Our father was never like that , but he did work 24-hour shifts, so that could have been a reason our mother preferred to stay at home. In those days, in the suburbs, there were housewives all around who I am sure stepped in to help, and my brother and I were used to going in and out of our neighbour’s house in any case.

Here in Germany, these days, it does not seem to be about rest as much as about getting active (which is why I am going). I got through and over surgery very well and could have gone to the relevant therapists as an outpatient in Berlin, but whenever I mentioned that to people – medical as well as non-medical – everybody said – nonsense, you have had a traumatic experience and a very stressful time, and been through major surgery, so go, and enjoy it. When people put it that way, it makes sense, and it seems to be fairly standard after major surgery.

In the meantime, I have been trying to walk a lot, and as usual, Gabi Fastner has been coming to the rescue, just like she has done since the beginning of Corona, during the stressful couple of months this summer, and also as much as I have been able to do after surgery. At this stage, I am almost able to do almost all of her exercises.

For me, at the clinic, I am expecting the focus to be on regaining strength and mobility with pysiotherapy, gymnastics, swimming. Being close to the sea, I am of course also planning on doing a lot of walking.

Naturally, I am bringing my (to me still relatively new) camera and hope to become more familiar with it. Incidentally, before I knew I would be here at this particular time, I signed up for this on-line course, and am very much looking forward to it. James Prochnik is a great teacher. It starts the day after tomorrow, so I hope the Wi-Fi at the clinic does not fail.

When I discussed this with my gynecologist, I said I did not think that I need psychological help. She did not comment, but added it to the list. That is the only thing that makes me a bit nervous. I suspect psychologists have an uncanny ability to make one cry, and I would hope that I have “been there, done that”. We’ll see. The general advice is to go with the flow and do whatever they suggest, at least initially, and I have been looking forward to this like a child to Christmas.

The first time I was at the Waddensea (Wattenmeer) was also in Sankt Peter-Ording, and I fell in love with the region then. I have been back to other spots there, most notably several of the islands, a number of times, and more islands are on my list. I don’t think it ever occurred to me to go back to Sankt Peter-Ording, and I definitely had not imagined these circumstances, but I am very happy to be on my way there now.

Denial costs lives

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I hear from and read about many people who are secretive about their cancer diagnosis, and go on being quiet about it even once they are cancer free again.

Whereas if someone has a common cold they shout it from the rooftops and act like they are at death’s door.

So why the secrecy, silence and stigma in the case of cancer, and perhaps especially breast cancer? People need to be aware of the fact that shit happens, and of the symptoms, however diffuse. We are all expert deniers. I certainly was – of all the forms of cancer one can get, breast cancer was probably, for me, the most distant from my mind.

I was negligent, which is why I am so grateful that I did not need any further treatment neither before nor after the bilateral mastectomy, and that I am now – for all intents and purposes and as far as anybody can ever be completely certain of it – cancer free.

After I moved to Berlin in January 2016, I never got my act together and found a gynecologist for an annual check-up, despite several reminders from my GP. My excuse for procrastinating in this regard was other minor needs for “medical attention” – knee problems, cataract surgery, etc.etc. – there was always something ….. those were my excuses.

I did go to the public mammography screenings, but skipped the one in the middle of Covid. I then did go to the one in June this year when the invitation came, thinking – this will be my last mammography, since they only go to the age of seventy. Little did I know how prophetic that would turn out to be.

A cancer diagnosis is life-changing. And this comes from someone who was only aware of it for less than two months. What must it be like to live with the uncertainty for years, even decades?

The way I see it is that you might as well try to make something even remotely positive out of a traumatic experience and time and turn it into a kind of awareness-raising activity.

Denial about the possibillity of a cancer diagnosis (let’s not forget that it directly affects one in three or four of us) can cost lives.

Provided my Covid19 PCR test due this afternoon is negative, I am almost on my way to “reha” – much more about that later – I wonder if the subject will be just as hush-hush at the dinner table in a facility designed to bring cancer survivors, and I think also people who are living with cancer, back to a “normal” life as it is out in the real world.