Rush, rush, wait

I'm waiting in the chemo unit, while the drugs slowly work their way into my body.

It's been a flurry of activity until now - appointments almost every day, mammograms, ultrasounds, fine needle biopsies and the original cancer discovery thanks to two core biopsies with devices the size of caulking guns. You haven't lived until you've heard 2mm of metal go kathunk into your boob, twice. Last week it was surgery to remove and test some lymph nodes, apparently minor but still under general anaesthetic, CT scan, bone scan, MRI. Today I can add an ECG.

The good news is that the tests all came back fine. There is no cancer in my lymph nodes, bone, liver, heart, etc are all fine. I'm officially stage two (a?), which increases the chances this year will get rid of everything that's grown erratically. Amazing relief, that.

I do seem to have terrible veins. For a while I thought I was being nervous about needles, but it's been verified by everyone who's had a chance to wield the lance. The first woman trying to fit the cannula for surgery balked (I hadn't had water for six and half hours because I was the last person admitted) and the second rooted around in three different places before finding somewhere that would let her in. The bloods ladies haven't been great, especially since I now need to use my right arm and the chairs only have left side arm rests. Even fitting the PICC line, my veins kept disappearing whenever they injected local anaesthetic. I am grateful it is now there so the needles and various fluids will go through a silicone tube, not my skin.

Overall, I'm been impressed by the efficiency. I feel confident about the team in charge of me, and there has been a lot of kindness. I've met some characters, like the woman who went on creative retreat with Margaret Atwood in Wales, gets through her treatment with a small glass of Spanish wine each night, and whose cousin opened an Irish pub in Lithuania. I'm happy the appointments will back off for a while, and we're actually doing something to get rid of the cancer.

Out out damn Bob. (Yes, I've named it).

So, cancer. Off to fight the demon.

I've got a 4-5 cm fast growing 'mass' in my left breast. I noticed an egg sized lump mid-late January, got a doctor's appointment within a few weeks (after handing in my gigantic statement in support of moving to Canada and double checking the lump wouldn't just go away on it's own), and was diagnosed with invasive ductal carcinoma 28 Feb. Since then, I've had a whole battery of tests and I get the final results on Wednesday. I have a PICC line fitted Thurs so they no longer have to poke holes in me daily, and chemo will start Friday unless there's something (else) majorly wrong.

It's a lot to get my mind around. It's a flat up confrontation with death, even though I plan to get through it and people have been appearing from all sides to say they have made it through. It's my first complete embrace of medical science and trusting implicitly that the experts know best. I don't feel I have any other choice, and this does seem the type of problem the whole system was created to solve. There is no option of 'trusting my body' for this one, bits of my body already took a seriously wrong turn.

My job now is to turn up and endure whatever treatment throws my way. It's to take good care of myself so I'm as happy and healthy as I can be. It's to keep my girls on an even keel so they're not swallowed up by everything happening around them. It's to sort out an international move so I can take advantage of family support while I'm going through this whole process. It's making sure my mom knows her help is much, much appreciated. It's reaching out to friends and family and being seriously overwhelmed by their reaction (thank you all).

So, that's what I'm going to do.