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When someone you know opens up and shares the fact that they, themselves have come through their own cancer journey, it’s almost as if they’re a superhero who’s just revealed their secret identity. On one hand you can’t believe that it’s them and then on the other you develop this utmost respect for what they have achieved. I know it sounds silly but they’ve gone through this whole experience that most of us (hopefully) will never have to. That’s when the questions start.

“What happened?”

What treatment did you have?

“How did it affect you?”

Did you put on/lose weight?

How did you cope with everyday family life during the treatment?

“How are you now?”

You can’t help but notice that all of a sudden the whole conversation has just becomes a series of questions with you just craving information. The crazy thing is, before Sam was diagnosed those questions would never have been there. It would have been a simple “I’m really sorry. Are you ok now?” kind of thing. Sam’s found this out for herself first hand. She has been in contact with some very brave people who have gone through, and are still going through a very rough time and she’s found that the conversation (on her side at least) is very question orientated. You can see her sitting there taking the information in, but you can see she also feels guilty for asking so many questions. This will change as she starts to have her own experiences, and then hopefully, she’ll be on the receiving end of questions from someone else who needs help and support. All the people that Sam is talking to have been so open and supportive by sharing their experiences and what they are currently going through that I can see Sam is getting stronger in her determination to be just as brave.

We had a phone call from the hospital yesterday (an apologetic one at that) saying that there had been a mix up with the pre chemo appointment that we have on Thursday. It looks like it’s been double booked so what they’ve done now is given us a double bill appointment on Friday. We now need to go into hospital at 0900 on Friday for Sam to have her Pre chemo check and then at around 1030 the treatment will begin. We’re still scheduled to go in to have the CT scan the very next day but I’m hoping they will change that at some point in the week. I don’t fancy the unpredictability of that visit.

It’s weird how things have come to a stop all of a sudden. This must be the first Wednesday in 5 weeks that we haven’t been sat in a hospital corridor waiting for some news about this or that. It’s also weird having to act like everything is normal for a minute when you’re acutely aware that everything has changed. Sam is trying her best to act normal, (well, the best she can anyway), but you can see it’s all a cover. She says she gets this funny feeling where the lump is. It’s almost like something is moving or growing. She knows it’s probably all in her head but it must be a horrible feeling.

We’ve still not got the CT scan appointment yet so Sam called them this morning to find out more info. It looks like something got lost in the mix somewhere along the way. When Sam asked Becky (our other cancer nurse) about the appointment she said it didn’t look like one had been made. She said she would chase it and call us back. When she called back she said there were no gaps but they’d made a special appointment for Saturday 22nd February. Unfortunately, the tricky part about this appointment is that it’s the day after the first chemo session and we don’t really know what state Sam is going to be in. Is she going to be sick, drugged up to the eyeballs, spaced out (some people pay a lot for a weekend like this) or just normal? When we explained this to Becky she tried her hardest to change it but unfortunately it looks like we’re stuck with it. She’s put us on a standby list so we can be called in if someone cancels at the last minute. This means we have to be ready to go down at a moment’s notice if they call us. It’s worth it though because I don’t fancy dragging Sam to the hospital if she’s sick as a dog or counting fairies in her own purple sky world. It would also be really nice to get the CT scan out of the way sooner than later. I mean, considering that this is the scan that’ll show her if the cancer is anywhere else in her body it should really be at the top of the priority list. I would much rather they messed up the clips appointment rather than this one.

Sam’s been watching a lot of videos that show you how to wrap a scarf around your head when you’ve lost your hair and also videos of wigs so she can see what types there are available (although they’ll be useless on a windy day like today). She wants to get an idea of her options for when the time comes. I personally think she should rock the bald look. I think it would suit her (as long as her head isn’t shaped like a cone) and besides, I’m ready to count how many times we’d get called Right Said Fred. It’d be like a normal day for me. I’m just not sure if Sam’s ready for that one. Well, not yet anyway. 😉

Well it turns out I was right. It’s like a reverse biopsy. The consultant uses a hollow needle with a clip that’s the size of a grain of rice inside. He pierces the breast and then injects the clip into the tumour. We were told that there would be 2 clips inserted (one on either side) but the consultant said he has decided to use just the one clip smack bang in the middle of the tumour. He said it would be more of a precise marker when they come to do the surgery after the chemo. After the clip was attached Sam had a mammogram just to check all was in place.

Sam said that having the clip inserted was far more painful than when she had the biopsy done and that it stings much more now. The consultant reckons that the biopsy is much worse but Sam just thinks he’s talking out of his ass. 😉

Waiting in the hospital is a strange thing. Full of hustle and bustle but strangely nobody ever seems to be in a hurry. It’s not too bad for the first half hour but after that you start to play “GUESS THE INJURY” just to pass the time. It’s not the same playing it in outpatients though as the patients are always there for a long standing problem. It’s a much better game if you’re sat in casualty. I’ve always said that when you’re waiting in casualty you should make people hold signs. I mean, you’ve got the obvious patients with bandages, cuts and broken bones, etc, but then you always get the people who are sat waiting with no obvious signs of injury. They’re sat there normally, comfortably and in no pain (that you can see), so you say to yourself, “When they get up they’ll have a limp or a bad back or something”. When they’re called though, they just get up and walk normally. So you think, “Ok, then they must be accompanying a patient”, but then it turns out that they are the patient. It’s these people that need the signs holding up. It not fair teasing us like that. They should have a sign saying something like “TOY INSERTED HERE”.

Sam’s quite nervous whilst we’re sat here waiting for her clips to be done. She’s done some googling to find out more info but there doesn’t seem to be much on it. I’ve got visions of the same gun that they use for ear piercings but one that shoots into the breast instead. Maybe it’s the same way they do the biopsy but in reverse. Either way they’ll have to do it twice. Also, how big are these clips going to be? Guess we’ll find out soon because she’s just been called in………..

As a man, I have to be honest that shamefully there is only one vision that we have of boobs. I’m sorry, but if any man denies it then they are either lying or a doctor (the fact that I’m sat here struggling trying to work out whether to call them boobs, breasts or boobies shows how immature we really are). We always hear about lumps & bumps etc but we never really get too involved in the detail. If there’s ever a segment on the TV that is going to show ladies how to check for lumps, then men really only tune in to see if they are actually going to show a naked breast on prime time TV. They don’t actually pay attention to what is being said. If, however, it suddenly changes to a segment about checking for lumps in the testicle then all bets are off and the TV gets turned over.

We had a call from the hospital yesterday and Sam is booked in to get the clips attached to the tumour on Monday morning. This only involves her having a local anaesthetic so she doesn’t have to stay in (I’m still not sure how they attach the clips but I guess we’ll find out on Monday). We haven’t got a date yet for the CT scan but I’m sure we’ll find out soon because they want to do it before the chemotherapy starts on the 21st February.

I never realised how many women struggle with their breasts. When Sam was in hospital after her node biopsy there was a lovely lady (who was only slightly older than Sam) who was in the opposite bed. She would always suffer from big cysts when it was her period. They would always reduce afterwards, but they would get so big she was left with really loose skin. She was in hospital not only to have all the cysts cut out but also to have the excess skin cut away too. She had suffered for years but carried the pain and discomfort so bravely that no one would ever have noticed that anything was wrong. We were told by Jill that we would be shocked at how many people we would know who would have suffered from breast cancer in the past but kept it a secret from the people around them. There will be people who we will have known for years, or see everyday who would now confide and share their experiences with us because of Sam’s Cancer diagnosis. I now know of at least 3 people who I’ve known for years offer their support to Sam because they themselves have been through the same thing. I would never have known it. Not everyone has chemotherapy when diagnosed with cancer (another thing I didn’t know), some people just have the surgery and then radiotherapy so therefore never lose their hair whilst being treated.

Sam found her lump when she was trying to breastfeed Charlie. It’s only because she wasn’t producing the milk properly and trying to get him to latch on that she noticed it. She originally thought it was just a blocked milk duct and that it would disperse. She then completely forgot about it. It wasn’t until around 5 weeks later on NYE that she remembered it and told me. Even after finding it and going to the doctor she told me that if she recreated the advised way to check your breast for lumps then she still couldn’t feel it. What scares her is she doesn’t know how long it had been there for. It’s only when you pushed hard against her breast bone that you noticed it.

Please, if you feel something unusual in your breast (and this can be for men as well as women) then don’t delay in going to see a doctor. You would never be wasting anyone’s time by getting it checked. Even if you’re not sure what it is you should still get it checked. When Sam found her lump it wasn’t at all what I would have expected a lump to feel like, but then, that’s my fault for never paying attention during the segments on TV.

As soon as Sam was diagnosed with cancer, the first thing she said is that she didn’t want to shy away from it. She didn’t want people to be scared to talk to her about it. She didn’t want someone to bump into her when she’d lost her hair and then be afraid to say anything.

I thought it would be a good idea to start this blog because I wanted to share a journey that millions of people go through every year. I wanted to share our experiences with you and hope that it would give comfort to anyone else who may be worried if they’ve found a lump, or are just scared of the unknown. I published my first post just over a week ago. On Friday, the only people that had read the blog were Sam and a couple of my friends. I had a total of 12 views.

Since we announced that Sam had cancer, the support from everyone has been amazing. Sam has had message after message of support from so many people that it has really lifted her. I’ve seen her read a couple of the posts, laugh at them and then cry as she remembers it’s her that she’s reading about. I’ve become a little more cautious about going into too much detail about what’s going to happen to her because I’m concerned it will scare and upset her, but she’s been brilliant and said that if it helps someone else in this situation then it’s a great thing.

I’m hoping to keep this blog updated daily (as long as I’ve got something to say) with everything that we experience as it happens. I will try to keep things grounded and explain things in a realistic way. Sometimes it will be hard but hopefully there will be some lightness in there too.

I want to say a massive thank you to everyone that has read our blog and sent all the beautiful messages of support and hope. Since Friday over 3500 people have read about Sam’s journey and that’s unbelievable. I hope that you will stay with us to follow her journey from the start of treatment and then right through to Sam’s recovery.

THANK YOU 🙂

You’ve got to give credit where credit is due. Ever since Sam went to the doctors to get the lump checked our feet haven’t touched the ground. The very next day she got the hospital appointment, the following week she had the biopsy, the week later she had the diagnosis. 2 days after that she had the MRI, 5 days later we had the results from the MRI, the day after that she had the Pre op followed by the Sentinel LNB on the Friday. Well done NHS. I don’t even think it would have moved that fast if we went private.

So here we are, another corridor on another Wednesday afternoon. This time we’re in the Macmillan Centre which is located within the hospital. We’re surrounded by some very very friendly people (some of whom I think are volunteers). The decor and feel is completely different to the rest of the hospital. It’s still clinical but more welcoming and friendly.

“Samantha Lester?”
“This way please”

As we’re shown into the consultant’s room I notice that Jill is already there. The nurse who shows us in takes a seat at the back of the room and then all 3 watch as we take our seats. Charlie proves to be a bit of a distraction as we sit down but I can’t help wondering why there are 3 people in here with us. The consultant introduces herself and explains why we are here. I still can’t stop wondering why we have 3 people in the room when we’ve only ever had 2 at a time in the past (and why do they keep looking at us sympathetically?) . The consultant recaps us on what we already know (sort of like a previously on……….) and goes through things one by one. I ask her if they’ve got the results from Friday and she looks in her folder.

“We’ve got the result of your Sentinel Lymph Node biopsy here and I’m afraid we’ve found traces of cancer in one of them………. “

Shit.

So what does this mean? Apparently only one of the 2 lymph nodes that were taken out had traces of cancer in it. It looks like the cancer had only “touched” the node and not gone through it (but they’re not 100% sure). The next step now is to give Sam a full body CT scan to see if there’s cancer anywhere else in her body (more unknown, more waiting). The MRI last week just concentrated on her breasts, whereas the CT scan will show the complete picture so they can rule out everything else. If any microscopic cancer cells got past the lymph nodes and were floating around her body then (in theory) the chemo should kill them off. This will mean when they take out the tumour (after the chemo) they will also perform an auxiliary clearance of all the lymph nodes on that side (so much for not kicking that black cat…..).

Sam is also having a couple of “clips” inserted inside her breast (on the tumour). These are markers for the surgeon. They clip them to either end of the tumour and they show if the chemotherapy is having any effect on the tumour by helping to mark any changes in size. Also, if the chemotherapy completely wipes out the tumour then they’ll know which area to cut out afterwards.

The name of the chemotherapy that they’re going to use on Sam is called FEC-T (pronounced Feck-T) and it’s divided into 2 parts. The FEC (I giggle everytime they mention it. Damn you Father Ted!) part and then the T part (otherwise known as Taxotere). They administer both parts separately over the course of the treatment.

On the 20th February she will have her pre-chemo check. This is where they’ll get her ready for her first session which will be on the next day (21st Feb). After the first session is completed she’ll have to wait 3 weeks before having the second one (this is the stage where she’ll start losing her hair). The reason for the delay is because she has to let the side effects subside before proceeding. Once she’s ready, the cycle will begin again.

They are planning on giving her 6 sessions of chemotherapy in total (3 sessions of FEC and 3 of T) with 3 week gaps inbetween. So, 18 weeks in total then. (Fec!).

The side effects vary from person to person so we’ll find out in time which ones she’ll get. You never know…..she may get lucky.

Either way, it’s going to be one very tough journey.

Sorry babe. Xxx 😦

Imagine buying a new car. You choose it because you like it and it’s unique. The colour you choose is original and you don’t know anyone else who’s got this make or model. You drive it proudly off the forecourt and take it for a quick spin, when suddenly, another car drives past you that’s the same colour as your new car. You spot another, then another, then another, until you see one that’s the exact make, model, colour and body shape as the one you’ve just bought. You’ve never noticed them before but now they’re everywhere. “Bugger!”. It always happens that way.

Daybreak. Cancer. BBC news. Cancer. This Morning. Cancer. Loose “bloody” Women. Cancer. Eastenders. Cancer. It’s everywhere. From not being able get travel insurance to fizzy drinks giving you it. Everywhere. I keep expecting Jeremy Kyle, Homes Under The Hammer or the Sherrifs to squeeze it in somewhere. World Cancer Day has a lot to answer for.

I’d never really noticed it before but now every time I hear the word Cancer I look at Sam to make sure she’s ok. I check her reaction just to make sure she isn’t getting upset or giving me that look to either turn it over or just turn it off. I can see she wants to forget about it, hide in a corner or bury her head in the sand but it’s all too real.

It’s about to take a step closer tomorrow. We’re meeting with the chemotherapy consultant (I assume that’s what he’s called) to discuss the plan of action for treatment. Hopefully they’ll check to see how her armpit is healing, provisionally book in a date to start the sessions and then go through the details with us. Also, hopefully, we’ll get the results from the LNB biopsy from the lab. This will tell us if there are any cancerous traces in her lymph nodes. Whatever the result, nothing will change what happens next. Sam will still have chemotherapy as planned but the step after that will only alter if the result is positive. Instead of just having the surgery to remove the tumour (after it’s shrunk to the size of a pea hopefully), they’ll also have to remove all her lymph nodes (only if positive remember) and apparently that’s big job. That’s not the result we’re rooting for though. We want All CLEAR please. A bit of “Confirmed! Mrs Lester we know for sure” news and not “It looks like it’s ok but we’re not 100% sure” news.

We’ve been good all week so, in theory, our luck should start to change. We’ve not kicked a black cat, smashed a mirror, put our shoes on the table, opened an umbrella indoors or done that snappy snappy thing with scissors that my mum always told me was bad luck.

So, all clear please Mr Nodes. 😉

I remember when Maddy was 7 she came back from school with a sore armpit. When she got in all she kept saying was how uncomfortable it was. We had a look and noticed a lump. “It’s only a gland” we told her and it’ll go away in a day or so. I wasn’t at all worried but for some reason I picked up the iPad, went to Google, and then searched for 7 year old lump under armpit. It didn’t matter if I wasn’t worried before because by the time I had finished searching I was terrified. Why had I just searched that?? I just pushed it aside and carried on. The next morning the first thing I did was check Maddy’s armpit and to my relief it was fine. Lump all gone. The internet can be a crazy tool sometimes.

Jill (our cancer nurse) rang yesterday and spoke to Sam. She wanted to find out how she was doing after the LNB procedure. The results for this usually takes 10 days to come through, however, they are trying to rush these through. This way we can get them on Wednesday when we see the chemotherapy consultant. If not we will have to wait until the following Wednesday.

Sam is becoming more and more anxious as the reality of chemotherapy kicks in. The result is that she’s starting to want more info and, to be honest, who can blame her. She doesn’t necessarily want to find out more (ignorance is bliss and all that) but the curiosity is becoming unbearable.

She’s been a bit down today. She’s in a lot of pain, not sleeping very well and her head is spinning because of the whole situation. She’s also feeling a bit useless because she can’t pick up Charlie or Rosie. She’s dreading losing her hair. Not so much her hair on her head but more her eyelashes and eyebrows. She’s been told that it’s too late in the day to have any kind of make up tattoo done as this won’t heal in time for the chemo. She’s also been told that she can’t have false eyelashes because they would have to be stuck directly on the skin and that doesn’t agree with the chemo. She read online that there was one lady who lost her eyelashes during chemo, grew them back, then lost them again during radiotherapy. She’s obviously been searching for more info online but I get the feeling instead making her feel better it’s making her feel worse.

“Do you know you lose all your nails during chemotherapy?”

“Yeah. You lose all of them. Fingernails and toenails. It’s on the Internet”

I have to be honest with you, I don’t know if this is true or not. I learnt my lesson the last time.

It’s not everyday you have a dilemma about whether or not to post your wife’s naked breast online for people to see. I mean, I’m sure there are plenty of husbands that do this every day, but I hope they don’t have a conversation with their children about it first…………

Sam is good but very very sore. Apparently the procedure she had yesterday is much worse than a lumpectomy. I’m sure that both procedures are as bad as each other, but she does look like she’s had a bit of a beating in her armpit.

Most of the side effects are present apart from the blue tinge to her eyes. The bright blue wee is there (not sure about the green bowels though. Didn’t want to ask about that) and the slight grey colour to her skin is there. Although as the evening wore on she became more of a green colour. I said that If they were doing auditions for Shrek the musical then she would get the part of Princess Fiona hands down (I didn’t mean that she looked like an ogre, I meant because she looked green) . Harry looked up at this point and said “Daddy, if mummy is Princess Fiona, then that makes you Shrek”. He then smugly left the room.

Sam has been told that she’s got to be extremely careful with her arm now that she’s had this procedure done. She cannot risk damaging any of the vessels that’s been disturbed within her armpit. If there is any damage then this would delay any chemotherapy treatment that’s scheduled for her. This also means that not only is she is not allowed to use any soap or deodorant in that area for the next 4 or 5 weeks (just make sure you stand on her right hand side when you see her) because of the risk of infection and she also isn’t allowed to do any heavy lifting of any kind. This means no lifting Rosie or Charlie. Rosie isn’t so much of an issue because at her age she can at least walk and do stuff herself (In fact she’s like a micro helper for Sam) but how is she supposed to deal with Charlie when she’s on her own?? With him being only 3 months old it becomes slightly tricky. She could use one arm but I know what Sam is like and she isn’t the kind to sit back and relax. We were going to wrap her arm to her side with a scarf (or some duct tape) just so she wouldn’t use it but she’s been told she has to exercise it so that it reduces the swelling. We’ll figure out something because chemotherapy is too important to delay.

Now, onto the nipple. I got a text message from Sam around 1620 saying that everything was done and that she’s awake and drinking tea.

She then sent a text message 5 minutes later:

Now, I have to point out that this isn’t a text that I’d usually get from Sam at 1630 and if it was under any other circumstances I’d be quite excited. I have to admit though, on this occasion, I was more curious than excited.

Cover your eyes kids 😉

More of a turquoise than a blue I reckon…………