Incidental finding following breast cancer screening

Whilst going through the process of being diagnosed last year, I had an MRI scan of my breast area (the lump I found did not show up on the mammogram). At the subsequent follow-up meeting with the consultant, he had told me about the ‘incidental finding‘ they had found.

Incidental findings are defined as a ‘chance discovery in a patient which may warrant further investigation.’ I was told at the time that they didn’t believe that what they had found  was sinister looking and they recommended parking any further investigation until I’d completed my active breast cancer treatment.

In March this year I went to visit the chest surgeon to follow this up and discuss further. He started the conversation off with “So we’ve had a letter about a spot of bother on your lung.” This immediately made me feel anxious as they’d never mentioned anything about my lung before. He said there is a bump where the lung is, away from the chest wall, and that this is not usual and it shouldn’t be there. He said it was slightly in contact with the big artery coming out of the heart, but that the scan he had in front of him wasn’t detailed enough to be able to make a judgement on it and so he requested I have a further CT scan with dye contrast.  This scan with contrast would allow him to see all the arteries, any relationship to them and if there was any blood supply going into it.

He said if it’s something that the report indicates is initially benign – usually, round  smooth things are not as sinister as things that have spikey bits sticking out. Cancer is the Latin word for crab (most likely applied to the disease because of the crab-like legs projecting from a tumour). He said that’s why people think if things are nice and smooth it’s less likely to be cancerous which is what they think this was likely to be. This appeased my anxiety a little, but doctors have to caveat their statements and can never say that they are 100% sure what something is. He went on to say that some things can grow in that location and cause problems, not necessarily by spreading around the body, but just from them growing locally and causing problems. He said it was right for me to be referred to them to ask an opinion on whether it is something that can be left or if it needs to be taken out.

The resulting CT scan showed that the cyst had not grown in size and was roughly the size of a grape. I was then presented with two options – I could either have it removed, or we could take a ‘wait and watch’ approach where I would continue to have regular scans to see if it changed in size etc. Given the events of last year, and the fact that it was something that wasn’t meant to be there and could potentially cause issues later on in my life, I knew I absolutely wanted to have it removed. I would then not have it hanging over my head and be worrying about what it might be.

Because the surgery was non-urgent, the consultant said they could pretty much fit it in around my schedule and work. By this time it was April and I knew if I agreed to have it done then, good old sod’s law would be at play and it would probably be scheduled for my birthday in May. As we’d already had to cancel our holiday last year due to my surgeries and this was a special birthday, I wanted to make sure we got away as planned so I suggested that June would be a convenient time.

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As is the way of life, nothing seems to run smoothly and there is always a curve ball or challenge thrown into the mix to keep you on your feet. I had a couple of challenging episodes (one for another post!) in the lead up to my proposed surgery date so I had to request that it be rescheduled. Luckily the hospital staff were very understanding and enabled me to have my op on another date.

One of the reasons I had asked to re-arrange my surgery was because I was at second stage interview with one particular company. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to drive for four weeks after the op and I didn’t want it to ruin my chances of getting the job. I’d hoped to be able to secure a job before I had my op so I could rest and recoup without the worry of having to job hunt. Luckily the afternoon before I was due to go into hospital, I received a phone call from the company I’d been for an interview with on the previous Friday to tell me I’d been successful and that they wanted to offer me the job. Yaaaaaayyyy! Apparently, I’d come out scoring on top out of all the interviewees for both the written test and the interview. Thank you, a bit of luck at last!

It was my lovely friend Katherine’s birthday that evening and ideally I wanted to be tucked up in bed nice and early ready for the super early start at the hospital the following morning. But it was a special birthday and I didn’t want to not be there for her. Due to the fact that I was driving that night and with my op in the morning I didn’t really get a chance to raise a glass and celebrate my new job offer. One for another time!

I was going in to have Video-Assisted Thoracic Surgery (VATS) to remove the cyst from my left mediastinal area. The operation would take 45 minutes to an hour and would involve the surgeon making three incisions down my left side in the chest wall near the ribs. This would allow the insertion of video/camera equipment and surgical instruments. He would use the existing scar I had from surgery last year to save making an extra new incision. My lung would then be collapsed and a thoracoscope placed into the chest. The thoracoscope allows the surgeon to see inside the chest. After successful removal of the cyst, a chest drainage tube is inserted and the lung is re-expanded.

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Whilst I just wanted to have this thing that was inside me out, I was really quite nervous about the operation. I’d have to stay in overnight – I’d never stayed in a hospital overnight before, not even with the ops I’d had last year. They were going to collapse my lung which did frighten me somewhat. What if it doesn’t inflate again? What if they find something unexpected? What if they have to convert to open surgery?

Once again the amazing NHS staff were all extremely friendly and made the whole experience more bearable and less nerve wracking. I did have a rather long wait, having arrived at the hospital at 7.30am I didn’t go down for my op until 12:30 –  I was missing my morning cuppa!

The anaesthetists seemed to have great difficulty this time in locating a good vein, so after a few attempts I had a smaller one put in my wrist area and they said they’d put a larger one in once I was under. “It will still be as effective won’t it?” I asked worryingly. “Yes it will, don’t worry you won’t know anything about it,” he said reassuringly.

The next thing I knew I had awoken in the recovery room with a nurse sat next to me and I had things on both of my ankles inflating and then releasing periodically. I vaguely remember my surgeon coming round and tapping me on various points on my legs and asking me whether I could feel him tapping those points.

After a period of time, I was then wheeled up to the women’s thoracic ward and was monitored every 15 minutes by a nurse. I had an oxygen tube going into my nose and I felt tired and a little away with the fairies.

Thankfully Pats came in to visit me later that afternoon and after we had made jokes about the very fetching thigh-high white embolism stockings I was sporting, he presented me with a little goody bag. It had a cute get well card in it, my little fluffy bunny that my sister had brought me a few years back and some treats to eat. It was too painful to be able to shift myself to sit upright so I drank water from a straw and, having not eaten for over 20 hours, managed to scoff down a cheese sandwich. Pats had bought me in some baby bells (got to have a cheese fix!) and a nice healthy green smoothie.

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Pats set up the TV for me and as he left I began to start watching the Andy Murray/Tsonga tennis match at Wimbledon. There were five other women on the ward and there was an older lady down the end to my left who I had heard whilst Pats had been there. As the evening progressed this lady progressively got more and more vocal. She was demanding things left right and centre from the nursing staff without so much as a please or thank you. I had to take my hat off to the nurses that night, they all had the patience of saints and continued to come to her calmly and professionally each time to take care of her every need.

By this point, I was in a lot of pain and even the shots of morphine weren’t easing it. It was a bit of a surreal moment really, I was laying in this really strange place in agony – I literally felt like I had multiple stab wounds in my chest and was desperately clutching my little bunny for comfort .. I felt like a child who wanted her Mummy!

In the morning a nurse came and tried to take my bloods but after two attempts she couldn’t get a good enough vein. I was still in a lot of pain and so continued on the morphine shots. I was feeling decidedly sorry for myself – I consider myself to have a pretty high pain threshold but this had brought me to tears. I laid there feeling really rather silly trying to hide my visible display of emotions from the other ladies on the ward.

Another two nurses arrived and said they would be removing the drain from my side. Oh, joy! I had to roll onto my right side, which was even more painful, and take a deep breath in. As I gradually breathed out they whipped the pipe out. Man, this sucked!

Another nurse came round to give me a wash in bed, a slightly odd experience, but it did make me feel slightly better. Afterwards, she suggested that I try and get out of bed and sit up in the chair. She helped me over to the chair and for a while, I sat quite happily drinking a cup of tea and munching on a digestive biscuit. I was feeling pleased with myself that I was making good progress. All of a sudden I came over feeling really odd, light-headed, sweaty and I thought I was going to be sick. The nurse said my blood pressure had dropped so helped me back into bed. Bugger, not so fast then!

By this point, Darren had come back into see me and my surgeon came round to discuss the op. He said they had removed a ‘nerve cyst’ and it was more tricky to get out due to it being attached to nerve endings.This was why he was tapping various points on me as he was concerned it may have affected my sensations in various areas (luckily it hadn’t). Whilst the MRI had shown the size of the cyst to be roughly the size of a grape, the consultant indicated with his fingers it was much bigger (approx 5cm). The cyst had been sent off for analysis and I would get the results in 10 days’ time. We discussed my funny turn on getting out of bed, and he said I should try again a bit later. It’s better for your lungs and chest to be upright and mobile as this prevents getting a chest infection or pneumonia.

A couple of hours later I tried once more to get out of bed and sit in the chair and luckily I was okay. I could see other ladies getting themselves up out of bed and going off to have a shower. This seemed completely unachievable to me at that point. Pats walked me to the toilet – oh the joyous things my poor beloved husband has had to do for/with me!

Once I knew I was going to be okay whilst sat out of bed I just wanted to get out of there and be at home. I was finally discharged at around 5pm the following day and given a bag of painkillers to take home with me. I was really sore on the journey home in the car as the pain relief I’d been given in the hospital was starting to wear off. I got home and when I looked at the paracetamol and ibruprofen in the bag I realised that was not going to cut the mustard. I rang the hospital medication number and the lady was surprised I hadn’t been given anything stronger to take home with me after what I’d been having in the hospital. Luckily Pats had some co-codamol in the cupboard so I took those and that started to ease the pain.

Shoulder pain is really common after lung surgery and I had awful pains in my left shoulder. It hurt so much to cough, blow my nose and even take breaths at times. That evening we started watching an episode of One Foot in the Grave on the TV, but it was making me laugh and cry with pain at the same time so we had to turn it over!

Pats looked after me so well that weekend bless his heart. He’d brought me a funny card and two lovely plants that he put in our bedroom so I could enjoy looking at the flowers. He’d made a scrummy dinner that night and helped me in dressing and getting in and out of bed etc.

Over that weekend my best friend Tara came over with a lovely bunch of sunflowers and my sister and her boyfriend sent a lovely bouquet of flowers and popped in to see how I was doing. I was also lucky and very appreciative to have received some very beautiful flowers delivered from my friends Lou and Debs and Jon and some thoughtful get well cards.

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I spent the majority of that weekend watching Wimbledon (well done Murray!). Pats had been to buy me some juices so I could have mocktails whilst watching the tennis so I didn’t feel left out. He is such a thoughtful babe!

Being mobile, moving about and walking  is key to recovering from VATS. Movement helps shift the phlegm that sits on your chest. When I left the hospital I was (agonisingly) coughing up brown bits (sorry, too much information!) which gradually faded to green, yellow and white. I walked around the house and garden and up and down the stairs trying to keep myself active.

As each day passed I improved and by the Monday I was able to walk to the local shops. Thankfully I was able to ditch the lovely white stockings after a week as they were really annoying!

I’m pleased to say that I’m recovering very well, and apart from hurting when I sneeze and a little tenderness (mainly in the night and morning) I’m not in any pain anymore.  I have also now had the results back from the analysis of the cyst and it was completely benign and nothing to worry about. What a relief. The human body absolutely amazes me in its ability to heal itself. Once again, thanks to the amazing NHS and to all the doctors, anaesthetists and nursing staff at Southampton University Hospital for taking such good care of me.

 

Images by genomesunzipped.orgsearchquotes.com, lwjuan.com, diapers.com and nanonews.org.

 

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An emotional goodbye

I heard the very sad and devastating news that a colleague I had previously worked with had recently died of cancer. He had been ill for well over a year and after finishing his treatment, sadly his cancer had returned and now it had stolen him from his loved ones.

He had such a friendly nature, he would always take the time to stop for a chat and say hello. He was diagnosed around the same time as me last year, and through a shared friend, we would ask about how one another was doing and pass our best wishes onto each other. I wouldn’t have described him as a really close friend, but we had a good relationship at work and we had an unspoken shared bond through our experience of having cancer.

He had served in the army for 22 years, and ironically had survived tours of duty in Iraq and Afghanistan, only to be taken by this cruel disease in the prime of his life.

There were so many people at the memorial service – family, friends, comrades and colleagues. The crematorium hall was filled to overflowing with mourners who wanted to say their final goodbyes. You could see just how popular this man was and how many lives he had touched.

Emotional friends and relatives shed tears as they paid tributes and shared stories and fond memories of a much-loved father of two. He leaves behind a young wife and their two daughters. My heart went out to his poor family who are going through such pain and sorrow at this time. Life really is so bloody cruel.

Although I’m clearly overjoyed to be alive, I couldn’t help but feel somewhat guilty that I had survived cancer whilst my fellow colleague had not. In the beginning when I was diagnosed, I had hundreds of questions whizzing around in my head and I’d asked myself on more than one occasion “Why me?” Whilst paying my respects yesterday I also asked myself the question “Why not me?”

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A couple of recent events have made it even more crystal clear to me that life presents so many ups and downs, traumas, sorrow and joy, happiness and sadness. In amongst the suffering and stressful times we must make the most of those good days, when the sun is shining, when we are healthy, when life is good and when we are at peace with ourselves and the world. The funeral was another stark reminder of how short life is and that we should grab it with both hands and make the most of the precious days that we have.

This poem by David Harkins was read out at the memorial service:

He is gone

You can shed tears that he is gone
Or you can smile because he has lived

You can close your eyes and pray that he will come back
Or you can open your eyes and see all that he has left

Your heart can be empty because you can’t see him
Or you can be full of the love that you shared

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday

You can remember him and only that he is gone
Or you can cherish his memory and let it live on

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back
Or you can do what he would want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

 

Images Simple Reminders and AllGreatQuotes.

 

Embrace birthdays – they’re not written in stone

Dreading birthdays isn’t that unusual, is it? After all, who really wants to get old, wrinkly, saggy and creaky? Following a couple of recent poignant events and having recently reached a rather big milestone myself, I really do feel that getting older and birthdays are a privilege and not something to worry or get sad about.

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With age comes experience and along with that, hopefully, wisdom. As you get older the lessons that life teaches you enable you to be more confident about who you are in the world and where you are in life. We tend not to care as much about what other people think of us and are less judgemental ourselves. I think we worry less about how we look – or how society thinks we should look. All those anti-ageing cream advertisements have lost their appeal, I just don’t believe the marketing hype anymore, and anyway, wrinkles mean that you laughed!

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I hit the big 4-0 a few weeks ago and, whilst I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t contemplated and thought about where I am at this mid-point in life, I’m eager to see what hopefully the next decade has in store for me. I didn’t want to be feeling sad about reaching this milestone – 40 years young I say!

For my 40th, my hubby pulled out all the stops and made such an incredible effort in making sure my birthday went off with a bang and was one to remember. He had been reeling with excitement for weeks and absolutely bursting at the seams trying not to let on what surprises he had in store for me. I knew we were going away for a holiday so I was excited, but as I like to be prepared and organised for things I also had slight trepidation in not knowing what we were doing!  

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On the morning of the day that we were due to go away, Pats presented me with a beautiful box, which upon opening had an envelope inside (and various other little presents). Opening the envelope with anticipation, I pulled out a picture of the most beautiful camper van. “Mallard”, a 1966 VW split screen – this was to be our new home for the next week!!! Wow. For anyone who doesn’t know me well, I absolutely love VW splitty camper vans. Inside the envelope was a carefully crafted piece of paper detailing a fun itinerary of what we would be doing that week. How exciting!

We would be spending the first couple of nights with a group of friends at a campsite near Lymington. We would then travel onto Bournemouth and stay overnight in a hotel and go to a ‘cheese and wine’ bar. Mmmmm my favourite!  From there we would truck on down Lyme Regis to a jazz festival and then I was free to pick the places we could go to after that. On a scale of 1-10 of sheer coolness, this rated about 100!

Pats had organised so many thoughtful little surprises for my birthday – he’d bought bunting and heart-shaped  lights to decorate the camper van with (I have a huge obsession with hanging hearts). He had bought bubbly for us all to drink for a birthday toast – out of proper glass flutes too. This man does NOT do drinking out of plastic – even when you’re camping in a field! He’d also wrapped up other little presents to be opened at specific times throughout the holiday.

My lovely friend, Debs, had bought some delicious birthday cakes and had had some gorgeous camper van bunting made which we decorated our van with. The weather was kind to us too and we enjoyed lots of laughs in the sunshine during the day finished off by cosy evenings around the campfire.

We had planned to go camping last year, but as I’d just had my lumpectomy surgery, unfortunately, we had to cancel our trip. Our fab friends Debbie and Graham had some hilarious masks made up that had pictures of our faces printed on and had spent the weekend larking about with them on and posing for pictures with various people (even the campsite wardens!). They’d had us in absolute stitches as they’d send through random photos which made us still feel part of their weekend. They’d brought along the masks for this camping trip so we had great fun re-enacting Darren and Allie poses!

It took us a fair while to travel to the campsite in Lyme Regis from Bournemouth. We learned from this trip that driving a campervan is a rather unique experience. You don’t go very far quickly and you have to prepare for roundabouts and road turnings as well as anticipate what other drivers are doing as the brakes on the van take about a week to apply. This all added to the fun of the van (although it has put us off wanting to buy an old one!).

As we rocked up at the campsite that Pats had booked for us, we parked the van up and went inside to the office to pay for our pitch. As we were chatting away to the chap behind the counter, I glanced over at the window and out the corner of my eye saw the camper van rolling away! Oh my lordy, we legged it outside so fast and thankfully Pats managed to get inside it and apply the brakes. I foolishly stepped out in front of it to try and stop it (mmmm, not the most intelligent idea!).

As we returned to the office to finish paying, I looked at Pats and he was completely white as a sheet, sweating and trembling in shock! That was a seriously lucky escape. Apparently, ours wasn’t the first older camper van to have a poor hand break and the others had come off in a really bad way.

We had such an amazing time away and Pats made me feel like a million dollars (as always). I was so chuffed to have had the opportunity to go away in a VW campervan as this had been on my bucket list for a long time. I will certainly cherish the memories of my birthday spent with family and friends.

Some people leave this life far too young and don’t get to experience the joy and happiness of their future birthdays and getting old. I say embrace each and every year with love and gratitude as birthdays are not written in stone and are a privilege.

Images by Liam Moloney, Buzz-in.in and Spirit Science