I used Scootershack wraps on my sticks, I think it looks alright! 🙂
Just call me the girl with the purple sticks…
because we aren’t
given any other
– they wanted us weak but forced us to be strong.”
Amanda Lovelace, The Witch Doesn’t Burn in This One
I guess this is my monthly update and my chance to give an update on my condition, considering I’ve been silent for the whole month. You can’t blame me for needing time to adjust from 1°C in Prague to Adelaide being perhaps the hottest city in the planet this week at 47°C in the CBD!
For those friends already looking to visit me I’ve had to explain that I’m bedridden still. I’m not able go out and catch up over dinners or lunches. People have to sit at my bedside while I’m stuck mostly horizontal in one of few ‘relief’ positions that don’t trigger pain.
The fact is I’ve returned home more disabled that I was when I left, and that means setting up the house with new equipment. As prepared as we tried to be with the flight, a few things were more difficult than they needed to be, too, not least of which being Emirates leaving my wheelchair and the big box of my mobility equipment behind in Dubai.
No, really, they did!
The first flight ran late so the connection was short and obviously they ran out of time when transferring things – but surely there should be a way to prioritise medical equipment? Apparently not.
The guy who told us that 4 of the 6 luggage pieces didn’t make it at first really didn’t catch the significance of that. We kind of stared at him blankly – me, in pain, in the terribly uncomfortable chairs they put you in, no handles to push yourself and with staff assigned to push you whether you want them or not – and he went “Oh!” and went off to organise loan of a chair from Adelaide airport. I assume they expected me to crawl home. I was grumpy as hell but it’s hard to express anger when you’re being pushed around and unable to direct yourself. Hard to assert yourself without agency.
That interaction was balanced by two separate people recognising me and approaching me, which is surreal. Especially following a long flight where I’d taken heavy pain killers and had little sleep. The whole trip was a blur. Particularly when I had to psych myself up to sit painfully upright for take off and landing. There’s just no getting around needing to be up for that, as much as we asked if I could recline.
The drive home was another blur, starting to feel that fuzzy dizziness that jet-lag brings, my ears needing to pop and my stomach growling.
Anyway I’ve told this story of my flight and return because of how abruptly that dreamlike state was broken when we arrived home. Because, you see, I needed the things in that box that didn’t make it. It was the realisation that I can’t use the toilet which hit me hard, and suddenly the build up mix of sad and angry overflowed.
The average toilet seat is just too low! If I tried I would fall into it and not be able to get up. It would hurt. It was so strange to realise that of course most private toilets don’t have hand-holds and bars, and that I’d come to take for granted the public and hotel toilets I’d been using, which often even when not disability access had them. Of course home toilets don’t have those things.
I have become dependent on the over-the-toilet seat frame we bought, which was then waiting for us in Dubai. Not being able to use the toilet in my own house upset me more than I could have predicted. I guess for what it represented – I was back home with everything so familiar to me, yet it had become strange to me in being unusable, in not working for this new me. It was the realisation that it was going to take a lot of work and a lot of set up to make my home comfortable. That getting ‘back to normal’ was a long way away. Things are going to be different now.
I don’t want to make this a long-ass essay, but there’s more updates to give!
I’ve been booked to be admitted to the Royal Adelaide hospital next week. When your doctors ask you, “Are you willing to be an inpatient to get the services you need and be eligible for more?” the answer is, of course, a begrudging “If I have to…”.
Nobody likes being in hospital, but the trouble is I’ll be waiting weeks for referrals, and admission will mean avoiding the painful, exhausting and time consuming work that is travelling to and from appointments. I just can’t sit upright and there needs to be accommodation of my ‘relief’ position when I arrive at my destination or I just can’t go – sitting in waiting rooms is agony, and most places aren’t prepared to deal with someone with my issues.
So we’re sort of gaming the system, to get immediate access to doctors, who can come to me instead. We shouldn’t have to do that, but what’s the alternative? We ideally need transport like we had in Prague, something with a gurney that doesn’t involve me illegally lying down in the car. We need a reclined chair in appointments, and there’s no getting around how vast the new RAH is, and the distance and wait times involved. Ideally, I should be eligible for Rehab In The Home – but I’m not because you need to be recently inpatient.
I hate being in hospital. I want to have the privacy of my own bedroom in a comfortable bed….but if it gets me a pain specialist ASAP… I’ll do whatever I have to do.
Maybe I’m not getting worse, but I’m not getting significantly better either, not in ways that are going to improve my independence. I need guidance and experts. Maybe I’m standing for longer, walking further… but the next step of improvement is going to be a leap: lowering pain relief medication, learning what physiotherapy to do, SITTING UP without pain, which is the greatest barrier to plenty of things.
Isn’t it just so ironic, to be too cripple to get to rehab… to be in too much pain to make it to the pain specialist.
Isn’t that a block of text! Thank you if you’ve read this far through my venting!
Apparently I needed it!
Loch Lomond, Scotland (2015)
I collected together all my inpatient wristbands.
I’m thinking I’ll tie them together and see how the past year compares with this one upcoming.
I really have no idea what could be in store. More surgery, none at all?
Check ups often or occasionally? Back to study or take a break?
I’m optimistic that I can deal with that uncertainty a lot better now than I could even just a few months ago.
One things for certain and that’s physiotherapy rehab!
There’s always work to be done!
After ‘recovery’ week 2, I’m finally going home!
I have been thinking about what I’d like to achieve once coming home. I guess I’m making some New Year’s resolutions of a kind. Adelaide will eventually be building its own Proton Beam Centre, and that needs to gain visibility and momentum. It was just a case of bad timing that I needed treatment before it was ready. Maybe I can help that in some way.
This campaign is no longer about raising funds. I’ve been blown away by support and it has helped so much. This went way bigger than I thought it ever could. I have that security now to dip into for support, as I will setting up home with occupational therapy assists for recovery post-treatment and with deteriorated symptoms.
Instead of trying to raise funds, I’m going to continue with monthly updates to keep visibility. To show the aftermath, to show where money goes, which services are there to help, and importantly, where the gaps are. Also just in case people want to follow my story.
The most important thing to know about my situation is that I’m not just sick and seeking a cure – I have a disability that is a lifelong condition.
We could get rid of my cancer and I’ll still have a spinal injury caused by it. The reality is that getting rid of it is far off for me – this proton beam treatment takes many months to have an effect. In 3 months hopefully an MRI will show it’s shrinking. The tumour is wrapped around nerves. Maybe we intentionally leave some rather than unnecessarily debilitate me with an aggressive surgery.
Cancer is both acute and chronic. The heath care system, the university system, the workplace sometimes struggles with that.
So I’m going to keep talking about it. I am going to switch my updates over to my blog – it’s a better system for photos and longer text updates. I actually started this blog right at the beginning of my diagnosis but it was too raw and personal to share widely.
If people read backwards into the old posts I need them to be aware that it is a discussion of life with cancer. There’s some light posts and pretty pictures but also heavy stuff. Read at your own risk!
Otherwise, if you don’t want to read my melodramatic essays, thank you again for donating so generously and following my journey this far. I couldn’t have done it without you.
Just a quick update in my first ‘recovery’ week.
Without the daily trips to the clinic I feel a bit lost. I guess to some extent that’s a feeling everyone gets at Christmas, the dates and days get all mixed up, and everyone is frantic about when the shops are closed. But here we’re quite isolated so I feel those things are more stressful. I’m getting slightly agoraphobic here in my safe hotel room.
I’m pushing to practice being in the wheelchair for longer, but the nerve sensation in my back and legs is just so different and stranger than it was before. Sometimes I’m just pins and needles all over. My skin is reacting to being zapped as well which doesn’t help comfort levels – it looks like a huge angry splotch of sunburn, and hurts like it too. Pictured – how many pillows can one wheelchair hold! Each is an attempt to relieve a quirk of nerves playing up.
I am glad that I’m coming home in the new year, it feels like the beginning of a fresh chapter of my life. Post-treatment is psychologically such a different state of mind. We spent so long waiting to find out what the next step would be, radiation or surgery, and then once I was ready to leave for treatment there was still weeks of waiting anxiously.
Now we have more waiting, for the effects of the treatment, but it’s done.
There’s nothing more for me to do than let my body fight this, let it do it’s thing.
My treatment is now all finished!
Now I can rest!
Well, now I can work on trying to sit up without pain, and work up to walking a bit further each day. I’ve got a new pair of forearm crutches that are so fantastic teaching me balance sometimes I almost forget I can’t walk and just want to float forwards! Hopefully I don’t end up falling flat on my face.
I’m very grateful to be able to spend Christmas with Joey, visiting from London. I can’t believe we’ve been here so long, I’m torn between wanting time with him but counting down the days to get home.
I’m posting a little clip Joey took of my last trip into the clinic! Bless the drivers who always made sure I was wrapped up like a mummy against the cold snow!
My goal for next week: sit up for some of Christmas dinner! They celebrate on the 24th here and we’re lucky to be able to have a traditional Czech meal at the restaurant of the hotel.
I’m looking forward to it.
We’ve come to the time where we’re trying to prepare for the trip home. Next week is my last week of zaps and then it’s Christmas, so we’re trying to plan ahead of time but my condition is still hard to predict and things can change daily.
Case in point, we’ve had to add a week to the trip of recovery time, to be sure I can handle the flight home. Three weeks until I’m home.
Sitting upright still causes me a lot of pain and there’s no getting around needing a wheelchair in airports and sitting up for take off and landing. I’m optimistic I can handle it but there’s physiotherapy work to do, so I have to tell myself one more week can’t hurt. I just want to be home and have it all done and it’s agonising to draw it out. We’re so close to the end but getting home feels so far still!
One excellent distraction has been hearing the Christmas traditions of Prague. It just sounds so different to Australia, and the winter atmosphere really lends to that sense of pagan remnants and folklore traditions. We need more of this kind of thing in Australia – more children getting interrogated by a Santa accompanied by an angel and a devil and worried they’ll be getting handed coal not candy!
Another relief has been that mum has gone to so much trouble to bring me many small comforts that make all the difference. Whether it’s the mini-tree Christmas decorating or making comfort food just like at home. When I’m sick I usually have a running list of things I can’t wait to get back to (always food) – but this time thanks to her and thanks to no nausea (a miracle!) I’ve been happy, well fed, and completely indulged.
I cannot emphasise enough how much of a difference my pain management and that lack of nausea has made. Pain creeps into every part of your life. I know Dad and Cathy are waiting back home ready with all my favourites too. Thanks to the internet I can feel connected to their Christmas preparation too even from so far.
So on the one hand this week has been a frustrating change to the plan – but nothing has gone particularly worse this week, and for that I am thankful.
Any improvement is worth celebrating!
Each day I’m more mobile, each day I’m stronger!
It’s the final count down! Finally on single digits I have just 9 zaps to go!
It feels so good to be on the final leg of treatment, and I’ll have a few extra days after which I’m optimistic will be some much needed recovery time. Climbing in and out of gurneys and molds each day has felt like some wild gymnastics some days. It may just look like rolling and half push ups, but sometimes it’s all such a rush! Positioning can make such a difference to pain and is obviously crucial for treatment.
I’ve been trying to get stronger in the tiny ways I can so that once I’m home I’m not starting my kind of ‘rehab’ from scratch. It has been limited and frustrating – turns out a sore tumour right at the base of your spine rules out a lot of movements! See pictures a silly selfie I took to show my sisters’ my atrophied legs.
Once I’m done with zaps it will be a long wait to see the effects, and ongoing symptoms are still a great unknown.
But we’ll get there when we get there! For now I’m taking my short walks around the room on my two sticks as often as I can, eating like a monster and driving mum mad. It must be like when toddlers first start to walk – I’m getting gradually well enough to get in the way and find new ways to slip and hurt myself, but not enough to be of any help!
I’m almost beginning to grow afraid of coming home, of leaving this weird limbo world where we’ve arranged this sheltered hotel room as I need it.
But there’s still a few weeks to go! Getting there!