Remember me?

Not an awful lot has happened since my last entry, hence why it has taken so long for me to put fingers to keyboard.  I asked my Onc to delay my last chemo for one week so that I would be able to celebrate my son, Alec's 18th Birthday and she very kindly agreed.  So, I was given my last chemo on 30th April,  I had imagined that I would feel a sense of relief about that part of the treatment being over.   However, as the weeks have gone I have gone from feeling relieved to concerned.  Although I have restarted on Herceptin, you can't help fearing that the Git has snuck under the radar and moved on to invade another party of my body.

Two weeks ago I had another mammogram and ultrasound, these showed that the chemo has done a bloody brilliant job in reducing the size of the mass in my breast.  The Sonographer (or "scan lady" as I was calling her until I googled her proper title) said that the mass was so small now that it was hardly visible on the ultrasound.  I have to hope, therefore, that the chemo and the Herceptin stopped it in its tracks and prevented it from escaping, although the knowledge that it is in my nodes plays on my mind continually with every little ache and pain causing me to have cold sweats and nightmares.  The most recent of these panic attacks took place last week.  Over Jubliee weekend a small lump appeared under my armpit followed by a second the next day.  Obviously, being an extended Bank Holiday, it meant I had to wait until Tuesday before I could get to my Drs.  I had already been feeling very low for about a week, crying for no particular reason, shaking internally and having bad dreams - these lumps did not improve my mood.  On Tuesday morning I called the Drs surgery to be told they were running an emergencies only clinic.  I explained my situation and was told to come in, give my name and wait my turn.  I arrived about 10.00am and, after checking in at reception I went through to the waiting room.  I noticed that although the room was packed to the rafters, there was a row of empty seats by the door.  I sat down, got out my kindle and prepared to wait for "up to two hours".  About five minutes later I was almost kicked in the shin by the little sod angel lying on the floor in front of me - I now knew why these seats were empty.  He was the proverbial pain in the butt!  Aged about 4 years, he was bored rigid having been there since 9.30 with his nan and older siblings.  No one had thought to take a toy for him so he spent his time winding up his sister, whingeing, crying and throwing himself around the waiting room.