Dick is Humphrey’s cousin, and I hate him.
I’ve come up with calling him Dick as some men I know called Dick are right tits (which is where he’s hiding) and it’s playing on DCIS, the type of cancer I have.
Sure, I might be seen as being flippant when in truth I’m shit scared, but at the end of the day, all the tears, tantrums and despair aren’t going to change things. I have cancer. Again. It’s my second strike, and I have no choice other than a mastectomy this time, and it seems unfair that when I had my lumpectomy, they believed they had got it all.
Dick here has decided otherwise, the bastard.
I’m not going to quote facts and figures as this is ME we’re talking about, but you can find out more information here
Ductal carcinoma in situ (DCIS) is non-invasive breast cancer. Ductal means that the cancer starts inside the milk ducts, carcinoma refers to any cancer that begins in the skin or other tissues (including breast tissue) that cover or line the internal organs, and in situ means “in its original place.” DCIS is called “non-invasive” because it hasn’t spread beyond the milk duct into any normal surrounding breast tissue. DCIS isn’t life-threatening, but having DCIS can increase the risk of developing an invasive breast cancer later on.
In simple terms, if you imagine a fried egg, the yolk surrounded by the white and perfectly cooked, that’s how I see Dick, currently contained, but with the potential to burst his banks and spread to other parts of the body.
Well Dick me old mate, we’re on to you and you ain’t gonna get the chance!
I appear to have been assigned my original nurse when we found Humphrey, and she rang me yesterday. It was good to chat to someone who had been with me through it before. She is ‘old school’ like my Consultant, and tells it like it is with no frills or fancy jargon.
I am being slotted in for my pre op assessment a few days before surgery. This is actually great because it gets a few other things out of the way like diabetes eye screening and a chance to argue with the prescriptions office about an early repeat for my anastrazole which I shall continue to take. They are miserly with pills up here and you can only have one month’s supply at a time, but no two prescriptions in the same month.
Last time, I healed really quickly and only had to have one lot of fluid drained off. Although they say the dressing and drain will be taken out after a week, if I’m not producing any liquid, that might come out earlier. Hurrah!!
Obviously I won’t be doing very much as regards activity (any excuse to get out of hoover pushing), won’t be able to lift or carry anything but although I can’t play darts, I can certainly go as Captain and do the paperwork jollying the team along in the process.
The exercises are already familiar and recommended to commence the day after surgery as this gets the tissues working and also helps prevent a build up of liquid.
I have been given another Primary Breast Cancer information pack which is loaded with leaflets and contacts to get additional help and support.
I am not afraid to talk about it, though I am afraid of what happens next and how long it will take to get back to ‘normal’.
There has been mammoth advances in treatments of Breast Cancer and having it does not mean a death sentence. Like dieting, it’s a change of life style, though in this case, surgery might seem a little drastic for the wont of losing a couple of pounds.
Don’t knock me for my sense of humour at this time. It comes to the fore when I’m stressed or pissed off, and Dick has certainly done that.