Hair update - seven months on

When my hair started to grow back, I was desperate to know how long it would take to look good again. For a while it was passable (and as Debbie will confirm anyone who loves you will maintain that you have never looked better) and then I hit a hair crisis. Just before Christmas (six months after treatment), I saw an old college tutor of mine who said, "What on earth have you done to your hair?", and a 6-year old friend of the family declared that I looked just like her Grandmother. I stormed to the hairdresser and demanded that she give me extensions there and then. She gently refused but suggested that I go back to blonde and wait until March to have the extensions when my hair would be long enough to cover them. I conceded, and she dyed my hair a light blonde, didn't touch the top at all and cut the sides. She then shaped it into a spikey do so at least it looks now like a bold intention rather than a sneaky aim to get pensioner's rates on the bus. I'm not a huge fan, but I do feel lots better. It's also growing at a real pace now (still vertically and still super curly) but it's about two and a half inches long on top, so hang on in there!

I'm now almost 8mths since the end of chemo and am six weeks hair growth 'short' of Amanda's hair so whenever I see her, I look at her and know that in six weeks time, my hair will be just like hers.
Mine is very curly and dark and also growing upbank but I actually like it and don't think I'll have long hair again. Let's face it, once you've been bald, any sort of hair is welcomed.
Debbie

Dealing with anger

Throughout my entire cancer 'journey' I haven't felt angry or even particularly sad. Until this weekend that is. I had my first annual mammogram on Thursday. Last year when I was diagnosed, I went private. During my mammogram, the radiographer reviewed my scan there and then, told me I had three lumps, one of which was worrying, and that I had to go for a biopsy the following day. In the NHS, I was extremely surprised to learn that the person doing the mammogram is not trained to read the scan and that there is a FIVE WEEK waiting time for it to be reviewed by a radiographer. This now means that I am set for another horrible, stressful Christmas. This for someone reason has unleashed in me a complete fury! I am absolutely enraged and have so far shouted at both my parents and my husband. Three days later and I am still furious. I have even told my husband to tell people not to tell me to 'be positive' as although they are entirely well meaning, I don't think I can bear to hear that the odds are good (they're pretty terrible), to put it out of my mind (I wish I could but I can't), that everything will be all right (it hasn't been so far) or that of course I should have known that you have to wait for results like they did for their *insert random body part here* test (I feel like five weeks for a wrist X-ray is tolerable, but five weeks to see if you are going to live or die is intolerable). So this isn't the most positive of posts. I do feel though that at least if you know what to expect, you can mentally prepare yourself for the length of the wait. I also think that it's not the most terrible idea in the world to give calm, positive, brave Amanda a few, well deserved days off. Anger is unpleasant for the person experiencing it and the people who have to bear the brunt of it, but it's far healthier to express it than to bottle it up. So let it out, and the people you love will understand. And if you can afford it, do what Debbie and I did, and ease the pressure at a relaxing spa day!!

Amanda


I haven't had my follow up mammogram yet, I've been told that mine will be in February which means it will be 14 months after diagnosis.
Unlike Amanda's well meaning (but not really) friends, I actually do know how she must be feeling.
I can't say to her 'don't worry' or 'put it out of your mind' because I know in two months that I'm going to be in the same situation as her and waiting a possible five weeks for the results of my first mammogram post breast cancer/chemo.
Only people who have been in our situation can truly know how we feel. It's not just waiting around five weeks for results, actually we've got to live this for the rest of our days.
Before BC, any aches and pains were brushed off as exactly what they were, just aches and pains. Now with every ache and pain comes that shadow of doubt.
Amanda and I have both agreed that actually, we both feel really well, we both look really well and cancer/chemo is becoming a distant memory. And then we're thrown back into 'that life', routine reviews and mammograms and it all becomes real again.
I do think that for any woman who has been through breast cancer/chemo, we should be able to have our mammogram results quicker. Again, until you have been through it then how can people possibly understand how anxious and sick the waiting makes you feel?

Not happy to be waiting, but I am waiting

For goodness sake - avoid buses!

The odds of being hit (and killed by a bus) are 13 million to one. This is interesting since people seem to be convinced that this is going to happen to them. When faced with my prognosis, which is around a one in two (worst case) to one in five (best case) chance of not being around in five years, people think I will be reassured by the thought that they may get hit by a bus. Unless the people I know are particularly poor at road safety, it's scant consolation. Conversely, the odds of winning the lottery are one in 14 million, so that's slightly more consoling (although winning the lottery and then being hit by a bus would be most unfortunate). It's so tricky for people to face their mortality, and indeed, that of the people they love, so this helps them to rationalise what is really a horrible prospect to have to think about. When you're faced with these kinds of odds, there are masses of positives - you truly learn to appreciate the people you love, waste less time on silly worries and grasp opportunities you may not have otherwise taken. With cancer, you also get to hear how people truly feel about you, which is wonderful, uplifting and incredibly humbling. So I guess you have to take the rough with the smooth. What I would recommend is telling people that you remain positive about your future, but that it's something you need to come to terms with and deal with in your own way. And perhaps suggest that they look both ways before crossing the road!

Amanda

Getting hit by a bus outside the Cancer Centre - a statistical nightmare

Recurrence roulette

It's a few days until my first mammogram - almost one year to the day since my diagnosis. With Triple Negative Breast Cancer the chances of recurrence in the first two to three years are pretty high - reports settle on between 20% and 40%, and the prognosis is significantly poorer if it comes back this soon. This is largely because there are few targeted therapies for TNBC, unlike the hormone treatments for other types. So, to me, the mammogram is a bit like having a gun pointed at you with three or four blanks and one or two bullets in it. It's scary. There's also the challenge of being told by well-meaning friends and family to 'be positive' when truthfully there's absolutely nothing you can do to change the outcome. It really is all down to chance. So, what can we do to manage this fear? I've done a lot of work on relaxation techniques, read a lot of books on living for the moment (the Power of Now is a good one, as is anything by Brene Brown) and talked openly with friends. My advice is to talk openly to someone who's had cancer. It's impossible for anyone who hasn't been in your shoes (or bra in this case) to understand how you feel, and friends and family want to say something to help you and don't want to think about losing you themselves, so it's hard to be truly honest with them or for them to be truly honest with you. I think that confronting how you feel and being pragmatic without being 'doom and gloom' is probably the best bet. If it's back, you can deal with it then. If it's not, you can celebrate wildly...until next year!

Amanda

It's scary, I'm not going to lie

Warning: your hair might grow back ridiculous

Many people advised that my hair might grow back curly. Others said that it could come back a completely different colour. Few predicted that I would be working a full-on 70s Northern Soul vibe only a few months after treatment. My initial joy to have hair at all has now been replaced by wry confusion at this untameable barnet. I am on my first 'big' holiday after treatment. Having a truly marvellous time. However, my 'hair' has taken on a personality all of its own. Formerly straight with a slight kink and a light mousey colour au naturel, it is now a very dark brown, almost black and almost afro. In the mornings I style it to look as pixie-crop-like as possible. Then throughout the day it grows vertically and curls up on itself until it looks like it belongs to someone else entirely. No-one would suspect that I had cancer only a few months ago, but they were right when they warned..it could come back curly. And...most of my eyelashes fell out again annoyingly. I would suggest that you give them about six months or so to recover before subjecting them to too much beautification, and as for the hair..embrace it...or start a 70s tribute act.

Amanda

What I could look like without 'product'

The science of cancer - not really that scientific

If you're like me and like to know what you're dealing with, then brace yourself for your three month post-cancer review. Apart from a dreadful misunderstanding where the oncologist thought I said I had put on three to four stone and told me to go to WeightWatchers (I actually said three quarters of a stone), there was very little to report in the session. What I was hoping for was a list of things to do to minimise recurrence, confirmation of whether the treatment had worked and a review of my prognosis. What you actually get told is basically just get on with your life, eat healthily, exercise, minimise your vices and then hope for the best. As cancer is made up of tiny little particles, there's no scan or test to see if it's gone. Instead you just need to attend regular mammograms and ensure that you are vigilant about any bodily changes. So, there's no spreadsheet, report or certificate. Whilst on the one hand that's a little nerve-wracking, on the other you really just have to forget about it and resume life as usual. I'm certainly doing that, and so is Debbie. Cancer...oh that? It was just a blip...

Amanda

I also had my three month review a fortnight ago (Nov 25th) and pretty much had the same experience as Amanda. I had a thorough examination (whereby I held my breath until the consultant said that all was ok), he then asked me a couple of questions to which I responded with questions of my own but I didn't quite get the answers I was after.
Consultant: 'Do you still have hot sweats?'
Me: 'Not as bad, they seem to have calmed down'
Consultant: 'Are you taking Evening Primrose Oil?'
Me: 'No, I read it contains traces of oestrogen and because my cancer was oestrogen+, I don't want to put more into my body'
Consultant: 'hhmmph'
Me: 'When I have my mammogram, will I only have the one breast zapped?' (I had a mastectomy and reconstruction = no breast tissue)
Consultant: 'You'll have both done'
Me: ' But one is an implant and I have no breast tissue?'
Consultant: 'hhmmph'
Me: 'I have sore knees, could it be from the Tamoxifen?' (Painful joints are listed as a side effect)
Consultant: 'If they bother you then see your GP'
Thank you very much and see you in six months!!

Debbie

The plan is...there is no plan

First post-cancer haircut

The big day finally arrived on Saturday! I had my first post-cancer haircut. Now I have what has been described by lots of lovely people as a 'pixie cut' or a 'legitimate haircut'. So now, no-one looks at me with that combination of curiosity and pity, and I could quite easily be perceived as having chosen a dramatic cut as part of a mid-life crisis (or maybe to change my appearance to avoid the paparazzi/police). I can't lie by telling you I like it, but it's bearable. Coupled with eyelash extensions (done by a local beautician), I look kind of..OK...maybe even nice! So I have a plan now. I am going to grow it out on top but keep the sides short and then ultimately go for a bob. My hairdresser is looking into how long it needs to be before I can have extensions, and I decided to keep the colour as it is for now (a dark mousy colour), so watch this space. My advice though would be to get it cut as soon as it is about an inch long. Whilst it feels counter-intuitive to cut the hair you have been waiting desperately to grow, a decent haircut makes a huge difference. Just shaping the sides makes you look and feel a whole lot better.

Amanda

The plan - I reckon I'm four months from number one

I am now 5 months post chemo and have what I can only describe as a pixie cut as Amanda has described already. My hair is growing back dark. And curly. And it grows upbank!
I aren't sure if it's a compliment or not but I've been told that I'm the spitting image of both of my brothers. Thanks for that friends!! Strangely, they're losing their hair whereas mine is now growing thicker and stronger!
However, I will add that I really aren't bothered what colour, texture or direction my hair grows back, at least it's growing back.
For me, when I see Amanda, I always LOVE her hair. She is 6 weeks ahead of me in the hair process so at least it gives me an insight in to how my hair will be very soon.

Debbie