It
was such a wonderful spring morning. I
was supposed to babysit my granddaughter: super fun! Usually
when I arrive my daughter already has gone to her work. Not
so this morning. She
sat quietly behind her PC. Everything
seemed normal. Until
we were sitting outside in the sunshine, drinking coffee. Then I heard
the most shocking news! My daughter told me not worry, because the
worst was already behind her. But
there was a strange lump in her breast. In
the hospital they said it was a cyst and cysts are harmless. Yes,
yes!
That
was the beginning.
Of
course there was a puncture done to be sure. Only,
on the day my daughter and her partner came for the results it appeared
the report was missing. Mistakes
are only human. Though
it is difficult, on such important moments, to put that in the
right perspective. Certainly
when valuable time
gets lost and more faults happen. Only
a few weeks later, it came clear something was seriously wrong. It
was agreed a breast-conserving surgery would be the best solution. That
sounded reassuring. How little
did we know!
Fortunately,
my daughter and her partner both have a background in journalism and many
questions, and Googling later, the confidence in the local hospital quite
wilted.
Time for a second opinion.
After
examination, and having heard her story, my daughter was welcome at the
best Dutch Cancer center: the Anthony
v Leeuwenhoek hospital. That felt good straight away. The
whole approach is so different there. The
atmosphere is not something like you are lucky to be alive anyway. Besides
the medical knowledge they take importance in helping the patients find new confidence.
Which is, in addition to the strictly medical treatment, super important for a
young woman who is about to lose her breast.
The AVL also needed time to
reach the right decision. Until
it became clear the tumor was huge and on such a nasty place
-
right in her cleavage - that saving of the breast would mean a mutilation for
life. In the local hospital
they had'nt said anything about this!
So
it became an amputation. Fortunately it was
possible to place an immediate denture. A
world of difference! Not only saving extra
surgery. It also looked much better right away. Of
course we had seen the big breasts bible with pictures of
previously treated women. No
scar was the same. Sometimes
it looked sad, but mostly they had done wonders with the cosmetic
restoration work.
Yet we were aware that
it would never be the same anymore. But let's be honest, the
only thing what mattered was the complete removal of the tumor and the
message that no metastases were found. Which
fortunately happend to be the case.
Which
didn't mean
that,
especially in the beginning, everything remained tenced. Like would no
infections occur and would the body accept the prosthesis? And
then, what was about to come next? Chemo's,
getting sick, and bald? And how sick was sick
anyway? In
short, what could we expect?
 The AVL has the protocol it's better not to introduce someone with too much
information at once. Because of this, after the operation there was a short breather. That
was a good thing, because the operation
went well, but not without complications. Then began the preventive chemotherapy. And yes, that meant a bare head. So we had to get a
wig. We agreed to shop for it together and try to make something 'pleasant' of
the event.
However
that morning the fun
was hard to find. It was the only time I found my daughter angry and rebellious. The new chest she bravely accepted
as a new part of herself, but she feared what was about to happen now. Everyone has their own breaking point and in her
case it all came out that moment.
Until then
the three of them had managed wonderfully well. My sweet dream team is a close and brave little family. Even the eight years old daughter gave her
utmost. Of course,
her parents had protected her as much as possible from any bad news. But basically, she knew exactly what was going on and
about to happen. The parents had warned that children might
tell her Mommy was going to die now and other of these ugly messages. Indeed this happened. Not out of childish cruelty. Their fear needed to come out as well. It was a side effect of
the openness my daughter and her partner had chosen for. When their
kid would have been much younger,
it would have been different, but eight years is an age when, so to
speak, jars
already have very large ears. It
turned out to be good to relieve all sorrow and grief at school and share it in group
discussions, or during intimate moments with the teacher. A lot better than the shameful silence of death before.
In that sense there really is gained a
lot. Because
when mom some time later for the first time - with wig and all - appeared on the
playground the children had called admiringly, she looked great with
the hip wig. This was a very welcome boost! It's
quite a leap in the dark to go for the first time - with a thick layer of make-up and cool styled
eyes - to face ther
outside world again.
That relaxation was far gone on that morning, which we would step into the wig
shop. The tension was intense. Suddenly everything became eerily real.
Of course the bestseller book of Sophie van der Stap The
nine wigs girl was
laying on the
table at home. On top of a stack of rapidly rising medical information. Which only the fact that all the books
were at hand was more than adequate. So many nice gifts and provided useful information was almost too much.
The wig shop was recommended by the AVL. It was perhaps not the most fashionable shop, but
there wasn't time to
start shopping around. Fortunately
the expertise of the owner
brought once a relaxation which at before hand we didn't dare to hope for. What a relief, after trying on
only a pair of glamourous wigs, to hear my daughter say, "this is going to be OK, Mom!"
Of course it was terrible to
miss the beautiful long hair. Therefore, the alternative was a wig
approaching her own hair as close as possible. After the purchase it was immediately a lot easier
for her to think, "and it's not forever." So ended the day started so gloomy with a singing daughter. Not only in
control of the wheel of her car, but herself again.
Cherishing and
cultivating the good moments always appeared to be healing. I like to think back to a delicious lunch in the woods,
nearby my house, a few days after the first chemotherapy. It was an exceptionally beautiful late summer
afternoon. We did not even
had much to say any more. It was simply nice to sit together and watch our little treasure
at the playground. Meanwhile, looking with suspicion if
anything of the feared hair loss was seen. There was, at that time, no trace of it, but a few days later
it suddenly went very fast.
That Sunday, after breakfast, was the day that
the three of them bound together the pathetic tufts of hair. The eight-year-old was mom's braid trim. After which the cut hairs were carefully preserved
in an antique box.
Although it was a nice
ritual,of course they shared some tears.
You can imagine the relief when an hour later a
beautiful, wigged diva came down the stairs.
"Rata Tata, look at me" had sounded triumphant. Another battle won!
Only the first chemo was not that
bad.
We had agreed my daugthers partner would bring her every week to the AVL.
I would pick her up and stay as long
needed. That gave us all air. It was nice to get things to run smoothly and I was amazed at my energy.
Often enough, I had read that people have extra emergency reserves. If someone flops down exhausted on the bench he will be instantly awake when a fire occurs.
It's said power to cross. I felt something like that. Besides, we were all strong. At that time I devolved great admiration for
the man of the house. Besides his concern for the home front, he also had
to keep his newspaper running. Really not easy.
The
all of us reamined positive and strong. However
this didn't mean, once in a while, there occurred bad moments.
Everything was extremely sensitive.
One
of the first times my daughter was taken her chemo-infusion an
older couple, on the next bed, tried to cheer her up. For the woman
the chemo's only meant postponing the inevitable. The woman had previously lost her breast
and experienced afterwoods six wonderful years. Those were golden years. Yet, for a young mother,
hoping one day in a far away future, to become a sweet grandmother this
massage was
hitting hard.
It might be going reasonably well all
together. Without
too many complications. At moments like this one is immediately thrown back to square one. Because you really
can't guard yourself against such unexpected confrontations. They're everywhere. So every time my heart shrank together
when attention was paid to the newly released bestseller film Love-Life. Made after a autobiographic book by the Dutch writer KLuun. In this book he dealed with the cancer proces of his passed away
wife. That
Mirror came too close.
One
of the most moving memories was the moment when I entered the bathroom to find a sick and shivering daughter sticked against the heater.
The eight-year-old had installed herself with toys at moms foot. Determined not
to let her mother alone now she had it so hard. So we sat together
for half an hour. Then
my daughter plunged in bed with her laptop. In those days I learned
to value the new social media. My daughter shared all
misery with fellow suffering. However
luckily she slept mostly through all the misery.
We
did agree that, even if she didn't really felt up to it, to come to the
dinner table at night. Those were the golden moments when life seemed almost
normal. Our sick chicken
always sheered up from the few bites she ate, but most of all from the friendly chatter of daughter.
If after a few days the strange,
red chemo-head
turned back to normal also her energy came back. Although don't think too much of that.
In the beginning, we
did assume it wouldn't
be possible to celebrate our annual family highlight: Christmas! Therefore, the finer came the last moment dession it still could become a Christmas-light after all. With Christmas tree and sparkling balls.
So we got through the first
months. In the new year, the weekly chemotherapy followed by a lighter version every three weeks.
All in all,
it was a tough year. Yet
we felt afterwards that it actually went pretty fast.
In the
late spring slowly the hair came back. You can imagine the
triumphant moment, at the start of the holidays, when the wig could stay home.
However, there was a scary moment for which no one had warned. The last afternoon of the vacation she had been sitting
on a terrace in the sun. When unnoticed, the prosthesis
started to behave like a hot water bottle. It was a feverish flight back.
Would the again swollen breast reject the prosthesis? Fortunately,
the AVL immediately ruled out everything seriously and exactly as the doctor said,
declined the chest, after a few days, back to normal proportions.
Of course my question was if she sometimes
only had sat in the shade during the holiday? That was not the case. But
then there always had been plenty of cooling waters around.
That
unexpected, rising fears that there always something could go wrong will remain
for a long time. I know that the current generation of patients can fully benefit from all progress. But that doesn't mean that
fate, once more, might strike again. In
this respect a visitor
at the chemo-rooms in the hospital mercilessly has to face the hard facts. Too often I saw women who
had the disease, sometimes several times, returned. Women who sometimes were even younger than my daughter.
Women who sometimes had to survive in more severe conditions.
I think of the divorced women with kids who
had nobody to fall back on. Or the women who
were cruelly abandoned by their partners. I think
that, for the really tough days, possibly chemo-buddies should come. Or something like chemotherapy-inns where,
togehter with the kids, one gets lovingly cared for. This kind of intense disease
processes are really too heavy to to wade through on your own.
And then I have a tip!
I was happy if my daughter knew I was already in the building when she got her infusion. Therefore I was as early as possible in the AVL. Upon arrival, I brought her a large cup of freshly squeezed juices. Liters she could drink of
it. I think
during the chemo period the harvest of a whole orange plantation was squeezed through. After
this she fell asleep and then it was time for me to treat myself on a warm cup of consolation. They have good coffee there. Less is the reading
material at the reading table. The people of the AVL have so many important things on their minds
they overlook this.
At the very beginning, during the first trials, I once spent hours at the reading table. When a few months later
the chemotherapy started again I had to wait many hours. I was surprised
to find the same old magazines still laying at the table.
I fully understand that the reading table is a forgotten place.
But at the same time I personally experienced how a little distraction is a bonus when people have to wait long. Therefore I
brought nice
glossies which were left behind. The
reading table, at that time, suddenly looked a lot more interesting and I
had a lot of chuckles when I saw how they were liked.
I do think everyone will understand that I hope,
never again, having to return to the AVL. But
perhaps it's a good idea
for other visitors to
find some fun in spreading nice reading material aswell. |
