I dedicate this blog to a stranger named Francy......
Wow, I just sat down to write a blog and realised my last entry was dated 30th May, just over 2 months ago! I can't believe how quickly the time has past and just how slack I've become at contributing to my very own blog. I've also uncovered that the blog templates have been completely updated and changed so that nothing is familiar so its also taken me conservatively 15 minutes just to work out how I start a new post!!?? Arent these things meant to be intuitive Mr Google??
There was a time when I wrote at least weekly if not more regularly in my blog. Perhaps I had more to share, more to off load, more to express. Bundled up emotions trapped inside what felt like a shell of a body busting to get out. Disbelief, anger, sadness - that all seems so far away from me now. Or perhaps my excuse is that now I am way busier, living more real life, filling my days. No time to sit and write, I'm busy doing these days! Yay to that!
Or.... Perhaps I'm just slack.....
How do I summarise the past 2 months so that this entry doesn't take forever to read? There's so much to tell I am reluctant to cut corners. I am also really only ever writing these things as a personal journal of my illness and recovery. So I guess in that respect there are no rules. I cover what I cover. Nothing more and nothing less. My little brother just asked me if I ever read back over my blogs like a book about the last 9 months of my life. I've tried, I told him, but it's sometimes too emotional and raw for me just now. The reality is I am still in it. Still fighting. Maybe later.
So a quick update on my health status. My last blog revealed the news I am not a good metaboliser of Tamoxifin, the hormone blocker my body needs to ensure I don't feed my breast cancer any further aestrogen which it apparently liked. So lets starve it I say :) After much research, second and third opinions and lots of thinking, i decided the most appropriate course of action was to go ahead and have my ovaries and tubes removed. Drastic and permanent yes but really, I havent been one to take the minimalist option with any of this cancer fight so why start now? The concept was introduced by Boycey, seconded by A Team Oncologist Jodi and researched thoroughly by my very lovely GP, whom I trust implicitely.
It was not an overly emotional decision for me unlike many women whom I imagine struggle when faced with the same dilemma - even at my age. I've never been the maternal type nor have I linked my femininity to my girly bits. Ever since puberty, I've had a very clear view that I was never going to have children. I love kids when they belong to someone else and go home with them prefereably before they start crying. I also hold a much stronger passion for travel and great food and adventures like being able to chuck jobs in and go kayak to some remote island, or live in a Combi van for months and it just seemed that having the responsibility of raising children could never factor in neatly with those kinds of plans. Not ever. I stated this fact at an incredibly early age and pretty much never waivered. Eventually parents, grandparents, friends and your favourite aunty's stop asking "when the little ones are coming" and you realise with relief that they have finally resigned themselves to the fact that perhaps you actually meant what you said. Go figure.
But putting the emotional aspect of this decision aside, I needed to consider how important aestrogen is to other things like bone density, good teeth and happy moods. I've never really been the grumble bum type but perhaps I now have a fantastic excuse to turn an episode on at any given moment! Kym goes postal! Look out! I feel fortunate to be genetically blessed with unbreakable bones and rock solid teeth (both of which have been tested as a gymnast in my younger years surviving many face plants into balance beams and vaults and more recently smacked plenty of times by rogue surfboards), and so with all of this in mind I decide I have no reason to be overly concerned. Before I have even calculated these risks in my mind, Dr Maclean, my Cancer Coordinator, has linked me up with Sydney's finest Gyno and Anesthetist (enter Spunk A Team part 2) Greg and Michael and I was good to go!
This decision was essentially made around early June. So the remainder of that month saw me undertake a discrete project at work, return to regular classes at the gym and spending time with lovely friends.
One event I do want to journal was an interesting encounter I had in Ashfield sometime in June. I was racing through the Ashfield mall trying to find something quick to eat with one arm tucked over some work documents and the other arm clutching my wallet and mobile phone. At that time, my phone rang and it was a work colleague advising me of sad news relating to the death of lovely friend (and team members) mum. As I took the call I sat down on an available bench seat inside the mall so I could rest all the paraphernalia on my lap and give the call my full attention. I hung up and sat still in a blanket of sadness knowing how deeply sad my friend would be at that very moment there with her mum. Sitting next to me was a very frail, wizened up older woman with one of those shopping carts that have two wheels and a plastic lid in which you fill your groceries. She obviously overheard my conversation (yes I know I am loud) and I assume she looked at the files on my lap and recognised the DoCS or NSW Govt State emblem. She then turned to me and simply said 'You care a lot and you are a good person, I can tell' as she reached out her boney hand and patted my leg. I wasn't quite sure how to react so I simply said 'thank you'. I was at that juncture where you start to wonder am I sitting next to a crazy lady or someone extremely well meaning? She then said something like 'look at me, I worked hard and cared a lot too and now I have things wrong with me that mean I cant work and I have to buy this' and she gestured with a wave of her hand at the gluten free bread and fruits in her basket. I acknowledged to her that I had been unwell myself assuming she could tell (my hair was very short only just growing back from chemo) but I assured her I felt great and was happy to be back working. We engaged for a very short moment and I then excused myself indicating I needed to make another call - this time to my friend which I knew would likely go to message bank so I could express my condolences. It was during this call that I became aware that the woman had gotten up from the bench and walked away. However, when I looked down on my lap, Francy (signed at the bottom) had left me a little pink note that read: Kim/Kym........I reckon you'll make it!!! (ps 1) don't become the CEO (2) say 'no' sometimes. Best Wishes Francy (go for the long haul) and she finished with a love heart and a small bunch of red seedless grapes which sat on top of the note now sitting on my lap.
It was random in nature, borderline creepy, but more importantly sweet and kind and Francy's gesture stuck with me for some time. Why? Well to be honest I'm not quite sure. I think perhaps it was due to the fact that it happened at a time of hyper-sensitivity for me. Trying desperately to resume my former life. Battling with my own appearance and a strong desire to look 'normal'. Wanting to manage a new round of workload and needing to get my head into that mode at the same time as knowing that deep inside me a raging battle was going on with my own health. I think all of that colliding at one time coupled with a completely random encounter with a stranger who felt compelled to leave me a personal note of care, just resonated with me. Kindness expressed through a gesture is a lovely gift. But kindness expressed through a gesture between two complete strangers, especially in a small barely detectable way, has the potential to change someones life forever.
I carry Francy's note in the front of my diary.
