Had a lovely message from a friend in Amsterdam last week saying she'd just read about my lovely menopause and as it was something she could relate to, she was there for me if I needed to chat. She also said that she hadn't known what to talk to me about when I was going through my treatments of chemotherapy, surgery and radiotherapy.

Just as I moved to Bath and was starting my degree, I heard that an old friend I had lost touch with had died of lung cancer (in her mid-40's), leaving her husband (who I had known before her) and their two children. I duly went out and bought a card to send to him. I drafted a number of notes; how I'll always remember her freckles and tiny nose, how she inspired me to go and grab what I want from life, how fabulous she looked in THAT red dress, how she always seemed to understand any problem you had. We lost touch before the children arrived but I couldn't get my head around how he would be feeling. When I knew Paul he was 'one of the lads', played footie on a Sunday, drank beer, ran marathons and was too shy to actually ask anyone out, now he's a widower Dad of two young children. I just didn't know how to communicate with him.

So I didn't. I told myself I was busy with my own life, moving house, experiencing a new way of life, studying, one of my dogs was diagnosed with epilepsy so I was learning how to care for her. I was driving 100 miles back to married life every weekend and 100 miles back to uni every Monday. I forgave myself. Apparently there was a huge turn out at the funeral and Paul received hundreds of cards. I figured he wouldn't have missed mine.

I wonder how he is now? We still have mutual friends and I'm slack and selfish not to have asked before. I hope he's been able to move on. Hopefully he's not so shy now and he has another relationship, although it always felt like Lynn was the only one for him. I'll find out as I'm going home next weekend to visit Mum for Mother's Day.

I guess what I want to say to my friend in Cloggie Land is we had some great chats - very long and late and always on her 'phone bill! She also sent me a beautiful Angel who resides in my hallway and watches over all my guests. That's not 'not knowing what to do or say'; that's friendship, certainly of a better quality than I've shown Paul.

Very hard to know what to say, other than thank you from the bottom of my heart to Anne Marie Rogers, without whom there's a number of us who wouldn't have hope in our lives today.

First Draft

Please take the time to click on this link and put something out in the universe to thank her on behalf of all of us.

Second Draft

I'm so concerned you may not have time I've just copied it. But still, please click the link because the BBC set it out so much better than I have and I'm not sure if it's OK to copy an article verbatim. Their headline still needs a bit of work though.


Herceptin Drug Battle Woman Dies

A woman from Wiltshire, who won a legal fight for the right to be treated with the breast cancer drug Herceptin, has died at her home in Swindon.

Ann Marie Rogers, 57, won a landmark ruling in the High Court in 2006 against the Swindon Primary Care Trust. Her son, Lee Woodrough, said: "She may have lost her fight against cancer but thousands of women will benefit from Herceptin because of her bravery."
The drug was prescribed to her by her oncologist and then denied by the PCT.

'Exceptional circumstances'

Yogi Amin, who represented Ann Marie Rogers throughout her legal battle, using British human rights law, said she was an "inspiration". He said her courage and determination had paved the way for thousands of women fighting breast cancer throughout the UK to benefit from Herceptin treatment.

During Ms Rogers' legal battle, the PCT argued that it would only fund the drug for patients in "exceptional circumstances", and that the drug was not licensed for the treatment of early-stage breast cancer which is the kind Ms Rogers had at the time.

The Court of Appeal judges ruled that the PCT's policy was "irrational and unlawful" and said that the focus should be what a doctor felt was right for their patient. Herceptin was subsequently approved for funding by regulatory body the National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence (NICE).

Mr Woodrough said: "Tragically, in my mum's case, it could not save her life but we believe very strongly that it may well have helped her to live for as much as two years longer than if she had not been prescribed it.

"Every day is precious when you have someone fighting cancer in your family. The treatment gave her that chance to live."

Really ought to check the web before I post...



Clean living way to beat cancer

Yesterday I had a morning of pampering and indulgence. First stop an hour of Gyrotonics followed by 90 minutes of La Stone Reflexology. The Gyrotonics makes me feel six feet tall, not ten (out of my brain) feet tall, but a feet firmly on the ground six feet tall. The massage gives me energy and relaxation. The combination of the two give me balance. I really can't recommend either of them highly enough. What are you doing sitting there not picking up the 'phone, right now? So what if you're 12,000 miles away from the Georgian City of Bath - they're worth the trip, really.

That was the morning. This was the afternoon.

I arrive at the Clinic for my blood test. I sit with my Oncologist and tell him I'm concerned the previous test was inconclusive. He tells me why that might be; possibly the Tamoxifen I'm taking has masked the result. They're going to take a blood sample from me every two weeks for a month, i.e. one yesterday, one in a fortnight, the next a fortnight later. Then I'll meet with Dr G to discuss the results.

I ask what will happen if the next lot of results are also inconclusive. The correct answer of course would be 'that won't happen'.

The other, less palatable answer is 'I'll speak to another Oncologist at The Royal Marsden who has extensive experience in these matters.'

Oooh, The Royal Marsden I think. That's good, in fact that's as good as it gets isn't it? I really am in the best hands (and yes I am).

Today I wake up, go off to see my 'Life Coach' who's helping me organise myself (no link to him 'cos I've only just started and don't know if he's any good yet; having said that, I'm blogging so that's a good start. Blogging isn't even on my Action Plan). Whilst pondering a number of issues I suddenly realise that my Oncologist may have to speak to another Oncologist. The brilliant man who saved my life might have to speak to another brilliant person. Yes, yes I know that's good. I know he probably spoke to other brilliant people throughout my treatment but I only found that out as I high-fived my way out of the clinic after each bout of chemo.

Let's hope these tests give a conclusive result.

Always hard to be upbeat and positive when slebs are dropping like flies from cancer; not their job. They're meant to be successful, glamorous, slightly mysterious, popular, healthy obviously and crucially, they should stay alive.

So that's the tidgy one sorted, for the moment. Back to me...

Remember the good doctor took a blood sample to check my hormone levels were low. No, of course you don't because I was so convinced there'd be nothing to tell, I omitted to tell you. When will I learn?

As well as examining me and asking a few questions, my Oncologist took a blood sample so he could see where I'm up to with my periods. Once I haven't had one for two years, I think it's generally accepted that I'm menopausal. Anyway, belt and braces he took some blood.

I've just had a letter from him saying 'the result of your hormonal blood profile is a little difficult to interpret'. It seems the Consultant Biochemist suspects I am post-menopausal but, like Tara, I need more tests; three more tests over the next few weeks.

Woo hoo - I love blood tests. My veins are so tired from all the chemotherapy and other blood tests, I never leave the clinic resembling less than a favourite old pin cushion. I have no idea where they're going to get the blood from, but like Tara's progress, I will let you know.

Am feeling somewhat divided in my thoughts on the medical profession. Whilst I acknowledge that medicine is sadly, not an exact science, I'm concerned about how much can be missed.

Earlier in this blog I've ranted about how I made repeated visits to a variety of doctors with a variety of symptons; all of which were put down to stress. The only advice I was ever given was 'try and relax' and 'don't binge drink' (the latter given to me by a doctor who I'd never met before and who hadn't asked me what my alcohol consumption was). When finally diagnosed almost two years ago to the day (12 February 2007) the Consultant Surgeon told me I'd 'probably had the cancer for around ten years'. Woo hoo!

The cute little creature pictured below suddenly gained five kilos last August whilst I was on holiday. Since then, her energy level has dropped and dropped. In November she lost her appetite, didn't eat a thing for seven whole days and still didn't loose the mystery five kilos. I say 'mystery five kilos' with complete confidence. I have two German Shepherds, they eat exactly the same thing. If Tache gets a treat, so does Tara. If Tara get's a meal, so does Tache. They're my little pack and I treat them as fairly as I can and that means identical amounts of food and treats, exercise and I hope, love and attention.

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If Tache hasn't gained five kilos, how come Tara has? As I type, Tache is sitting by my feet crying (German Shepherds are incredibly vocal). I have no idea why other than she can read my mind and she's picking up my anxiety at not being able to help for the last six months.

Following numerous vet visits, two of which involved leaving Tara in the vets for the morning and signing a 'release' form we were still no closer to a diagnosis. Tara's walks were becoming shorter and shorter.

In last week's snow, I was staying with my parents. My Dad refused to walk her because she was so clearly ill.

I returned home (in the snow) and went to see the vet without Tara. I explained how I had made numerous visits to my doctor and after ten years was diagnosed with cancer. I explained my dog was sick. I live with her, I know her. She's my responsibility and she needs help, she relies on me. I know all the tests have come back clear but she's clearly quite ill.

My vet agreed to speak to the head of the practice. They asked me to bring her back in; another morning, another release form.

A friend, who's a former veterinary nurse suggested she may have an under-active thyroid. The vet told me we couldn't test accurately for thyroid because of her medication for epilepsy. But that's not entirely true.

The vet called this afternoon, all test results are in and my baby has an under-active thyroid. I've just walked back from there carrying 30 Soloxine tablets. I should notice the change in Tara immediately. She'll have her first one tomorrow morning; I'll let you know how she's going.

Last Wednesday saw my first 'Six Monthly Check-Up' with my Oncologist - he who saved my life - I last saw him on my penultimate Herceptin treatment at the beginning of July last year. A lot and not much has happened since then.

I've graduated, moved house, started a job, renovated new pad, finished job, grown some hair, got very confused.

Anyway, Dr G and I chatted, caught up on Christmas, New Year, holidays - just general chit-chat. He asked when I had my last MRI (November), my last period (March 2007), last appointment with the Consultant (also November). He asked what I was doing for a living and looked disappointed when I said 'just finishing renovating the flat, then I'm going to meet the careers officer at university to discuss what options are open to me'. It sounds flaky but I'm walking in my own shoes and I know I'm not flaky. When I do commit to work, I'll be dedicated, professional and committed. My few months at doggy day care dog-walking showed me I'm not quite ready to work, I need to literally get my house in order. Or 'my ducks in a row' as Absent Bloke says.

Anyway, Dr G is going to 'keep a close eye on me' and is arranging for Mr U the Consultant to see me in June then he'll see me a further four months later.

For some reason, leaving the appointment I could only focus on the negative 'keep a close eye on me' 'when was your last...'. What's happened to the bright smiles, the positive 'you're doing really well'? Weirdly, I KNOW I'm OK - I know I'm high risk, but I'm looking after myself; my diet, my exercise, my stress levels. Frankly, I could be having a lot more fun with friends than I am, but I get so freaked out having builders around the place, I'm better to keep things very simple whilst I get through the brick dust phase.

I'm sitting at my desk with my new fire blazing in the background. The dogs have come home from their day out and are drying out in the warmth. Later on this evening I'll be at my dance class, later on this week I'll be spending time with my family and friends in Manchester. Life is simple and good, I'm living in the moment. I'm living. Life is good.