The retreat

I am not sure where or how to start this post.  I have been silent on Facebook, failing to Tweet and there has been no blog post for just over a week.  I am a reasonably predictable soul and silence, as I have mentioned before, is usually not an indication of a peaceful state of affairs.

It has been a very rough and very long week.  I am still processing everything and the detail will follow.  However, I would like to give at least a very short update, as my last post referred to the imminent “Big Checks” in Bangkok.  And my silence has had everything to do with these checks.

As usual, I  had the usual bloodwork, mammo, Ultrasound, physicals and questions.  My bloodwork showed some elevation in one of the tumour markers and my oncologist, Dr W2, expressed concern. My two days of checks suddenly stretched into the best part of a week, as I was sent for CT and bone scans and then review.  My mind has been in very dark places and I am physically and emotionally exhausted, as well as so tired of this whole never-ending drama.  But most of all, I am relieved. Hugely relieved. For now.

I cannot describe how I feel on receiving the results. Numb. Drained. Relieved. Highly emotional.  There is no elation, no wish or will to celebrate.  Finally I can exhale, for now, as the markers will be monitored over the coming months.  I also feel guilty, especially when I know others whose cancer has metastasized.  How I hate this disease.

Tomorrow, 13 October, has been designated as Metastatic Breast Cancer Awareness Day. Still, not enough is known about metastatic breast cancer.

11 thoughts on “The retreat

  1. It’s so awful to spend a week like this. I’m so glad it’s over, with a lovely, negative result. Hugs to you, P.

  2. So glad to read that all has come back negative. What an incredibly awful week that this must have been for you. Love and hugs for you xxx

  3. Geez, geez, geez. I’m so sorry you had this awful week. That result is very good news, but I can imagine the pressure and the dread you must have felt. Whew. Wishing you calming moments and soothing cups of tea. ~Catherine

  4. I was holding my breath reading this (didn’t realize it til I got light-headed before reading the good news), so I can’t imagine how you felt. It’s awful, just plain awful, to have to live in fear after all we’ve endured. But such is the nature of our beast. I’m so glad the end result was good.

  5. I was afraid to read this post. I wouldn’t let my eyes skip ahead. I took it one word at a time. And am so relieved to hear your good news! Enjoy your weekend, do something special for yourself!

  6. hugs winging their way. I know exactly what you mean about no elation, no wish to celebrate. Be kind to yourself and look after yourself x x

  7. Thank you so so much for these lovely, understanding and supportive messages. I am still feeling disproportionately overwhelmed and exhausted for what has only been a few days. I know I am fortunate in so many ways, not just the results but the speed with which the investigations were ordered and results and review took place. I do so value that, and am acutely aware that it is not the case for so many. I wrote a heap of stuff in the two hours between the injecting of the dye and the actual bone scan and that will find its way on here very soon. I am not going to revise it, but just tidy it.

    Thank you, I am luxuriating in the hugs and love and really enjoying that pot of virtual tea :)
    Philippa
    xxx

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