Three Years for Me Too!

Had a checkup today and was told by my med onc that I'd just passed the 3 year mark - I'd forgotten! I was diagnosed in May, 2005, had a lumpectomy in June, chemo began in August and rads in December. I don't remember the diagnosis date but know that it was two days before Mother's Day and that I wanted to spare my daughter the trauma of receiving the news then. I waited until the night after Mother's Day and placed the phone call, "Are you sitting down?...."  

After treatment and recovery, life was good and I discovered that I was spending far too much time on the message board and had to get away from cancer - my disease was dragging me down. I discontinued posting here but at least once a week poured through the threads seeing who was going through what. It worked; I flourished.  

Late last year I had a minor sore throat, went to the doc and was told it was a viral infection and as such couldn't be treated with antibiotics. I survived on grocery store cough drops. Back to the doc - pain going into my ear. Same diagnosis. This was intermittent pain, nothing terribly painful, just annoying. Back again right after the New Year, a little angry this time, and had an appt with a nurse practitioner. "What's this? Have you ever had your tonsils out?" Short version: I had stage 2 tonsil cancer (no I didn't have tonsils, I had oral cancer where a tonsil would be, had I had a tonsil) with no node involvement. Radiation began on Valentine's Day and was completed on April 4th. Because it was caught early, I didn't need chemo or surgery. My checks thus far have been perfect - the rads decimated the growth and I'm cancer free right now.   

Breast cancer is a hideous horrible disease; mouth cancer is as well. One of the more wonderful women, a Brit, on my message board for that disease passed away recently. Her husband completed her cancer blog and included a poem that she'd written. I'd like to share it with you.   ***********  

Brenda also wrote poems, particularly for special occasions. It was a talent she most probably inherited from her father. Six weeks before she died she wrote her final poem. It was a reflection on what had happened to her since the onset of the illness. I want to share it with you because although she was in constant pain, her fortitude and sense of humour come shining through.

But first, some words of explanation. Five years ago when her mouth cancer was beginning to present itself, Brenda complained of a small hard object under her tongue in the floor of her mouth. The doctors thought it was a blocked saliva gland. Brenda called it her "pea". And one of the two secondary tumours in her head was treated with Gamma Knife radiotherapy at the Cromwell Hospital in London. So here's the poem:

My pea

It's 4 plus years since the knife went in

removing the pea and most of my chin.

16 months later the pea reappeared.

A second procedure and use of a saw

removes said pea and the remains of my jaw.

Another pea surfaced to threaten my life

this time it's my head - answer, Gamma Knife.

Too deep in my head for an operation

within days bags we're packed and off to the station.

Admitted to the Cromwell for Gamma Knife

in an iron mask I make an unpretty sight.

The following year said pea reappears

somewhere between left eye and left ear.

Dash down to Birmingham to see a top man

a month of radio therapy his advice ran

A face mask was made of very hard plastic

it was tight and hot, and claustrophobic.

Each day a good friend would come in the taxi

They gave their support - I didn't need to ask it.

That was last year - I've been well for the most part.

The pains back again - more scans on the chart.

It's hard to explain the affects of one pea

it's brought pure devastation to my body and me.

Bones from each femur construct my new jaw

scars down both legs show the path of the saw.

Half my tongue had to go from the front to the back

replaced with some flesh - they called it a flap.

It was cut from my forearm around my left wrist

with skin from my left thigh to cover what's missed.

Before my big op, a small one was done

to insert a ‘Peg' right into my tum.

A ‘Peg' is a tube to allow one to feed

with all that's happening, there sure is a need!

Did I mention as well, the neck dissection

and throw in for luck an MRSA infection.

After 4 plus years I look back and see

what that tiny little pea has done to me.

Not a day goes by without some pain

my face is deformed and to speak is a strain.

My mouth feels like it's stuffed with a loofah

And my diet is soup, soup and more soup ugh.

Don't get me wrong I'm glad to be here

I thank God for His blessings each day of the year.

If I'm asked "what soup would your favourite be?"

My reply is anything so long as its not pea.

RIP Brenda, I'll miss you.

Mimi