Bacardi Girl

What an effing week…

Seriously, I couldn’t think anything could get worse… but Freddy decided not to play ball and did all he could to let me know he’s in for the fight as well.

Well Monday came… biopsies done… and didn’t feel too bad. But Tuesday came I was finding breathing getting difficult. Getting up the stairs would result in me gasping for air and sitting on the chair trying to catch my breath.

Believe me… it is so scary when you can’t breathe. Panic sets in and that makes it worse. They say remain calm and deep breaths and concentrate of breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth.

Seriously!!! Believe me when you are fighting to catch your breath calmness is so hard to find and you panic like crazy.

Freddy decided to show his presence, as the week went on even walking 10-15 steps to the downstairs toilet had me in agony. Wednesday, I had an appointment with the wound clinic… by the time I got out of the car and walked into the clinic I was exhausted and couldn’t breathe. Eventually it passed…thank God. That thought of being readmitted to hospital scared me crazy. I know I don’t want to leave my home and I’m scared that the hospital will be the last place I ever see.

When I got home from the clinic a letter from the hospital was waiting on the doormat, telling me I had an appointment to see the breast surgery team on Wednesday 26th April, 2023.

Things were not improving by Friday, if anything they were getting worse. I was gasping at times and had this awful hacking cough… Even my son said that cough is getting worse. Oh boy did I know it.

Anyway, I had a text from my Drs to ring about some results… I couldn’t even get through the conversation without gasping and she said to go into the surgery at 3.30pm to see my Doctor as I needed help.

If that wasn’t bad enough… my boob was leaking, and it smelt awful. I did what they told me, put more dressings on… but I was finding that I had more dressings on my boob than a mummy has on its entire body.

I couldn’t wait to get to see the doctor… I felt so ill, I was thinking at times… this is it!

I blogged and did my photos during the week, to occupy my mind and try and calm myself down. As I find processing images and writing a blog very therapeutic. But at times, I was coughing, spluttering and gasping for breath. I hate you, Freddy!!! Believe me, I honestly do. The thoughts of you should have gone somewhere sooner or gone for those mammograms kept raging through my mind. I felt ashamed, I felt ill and guilty that I was putting my family through all of this. Mr A. has been absolutely brilliant. He’s taken over everything, cleaning, cooking and looking after me. I am so lucky I found this wonderful man in my life. My son too, has helped so me so much with so much moral support he is giving me.

By the time I got to the Drs at 3.30, I was gasping, coughing and he immediately did a through examination. And told me that the mass in my boob had got infected. Lung checks, Oxygen Level Check and God knows what else, it was a real good old-fashioned MOT.

He prescribed me more antibiotics and said the infection in my boob was affecting me breathing properly. He also prescribed me 5 days’ worth of steroids, to help me breathe properly until the antibiotics kicked in. My temperature was rising, and he gave me an inhaler to use when I found I couldn’t get my breath.

He said, normally steroids are taken in the morning, but he couldn’t wait until the next morning to start the steroids. So, I had to take 30mg after dinner tonight and then on Saturday 30mg after lunch and then on Sunday after breakfast. Which would get me into the right cycle of taking them.

Mr A. came in with me… at the moment he is my ears and takes it all in.. cos my mind is all over the place and things are not properly sinking in. Mr A. said the wound had started to smell foul and the doctor asked the nurse to pop in… and she said she would change the dressing for me.

Friday night, was just the same going to bed… I found I was still gasping and panicking. By Saturday morning, things had improved. I could now manage the 10-15 steps to the toilet without feeling I was about to curl up and die.

However, Freddy was not giving in that easily. Saturday night, with all the medications and the inhaler, I got the worst stomachache ever. I knew I had to be at the wound clinic on Sunday, but Mr A. and I got the time wrong. It was 10am that I had to be there. Hot water bottle after hot water bottle I used and eventually at about 4am the ache in my stomach, settled down. Mr A. left me in bed, knowing I hadn’t slept, when my phone went. Mr A. answered, and it was the wound clinic asking where I was. So, it was a quick wake-up call, wash, pills and a couple of biscuits before we headed out of the door to the wound clinic.

So, this morning has been rather hectic, but I have found that the tablets are working, and I am breathing more easily, and the cough isn’t as persistent as it was over the course of the week. We arrived at the clinic, and I was slightly out of breath, but nothing like I had been.

The Nurse, called me in and I explained why I was late.. that I had been up all night and Mr A. read the time wrong. She told me not to worry, I was there now. When she removed the dressing from Friday, she said I have got a bad infection in my nipple. She prescribed me some antibiotic cream to take with me to my future wound clinic appointments and a spare dressing. My next appointment is Tuesday at 10am… I do hope these antibiotics are working, and Freddy’s firmly put in his place.

My kitchen side is like a chemist shop. Creams, normal tablets I take daily, antibiotics and steroids, more creams and spare dressings. I think I could run my own clinic from my house.

Today, I am starting to feel better… my appetite isn’t that good today, but it won’t hurt to eat little and often, until my stomach settles right down. And my spirits have returned. I feel today more positive, well a lot more positive than I felt last night… I was prepared to give up and curl up and die. What with the fear, that the cancer could now have spread to my stomach, frightened the living daylights out of me. But today, those horrible thoughts have left me. And I am feeling so much better and prepared to fight Freddy all the way. I have found so much support from blogging friends and real-life family and friends on Facebook, that the feeling I am too ashamed to tell people, has disappeared. No-one has been judgemental, and they’ve offered me so much support.

Margaret, my blogging friend, gave me a link to a blog to read and I have found so far that what this person was suffering, and the fears and dread are exactly how I am feeling. I can relate so much to their blogs and I’m gaining support from reading their posts and that there is light at the end of the tunnel. Thank you, Margaret xx,

So, to Freddy, I say EFFF OFF!!!