Don't Dream It's Over

"Hey now, hey now
Don't dream it's over
Hey now, hey now
When the world comes in
They come, they come
To build a wall between us
We know they won't win" - Crowded House
It's been a while since my last blog post and life update. Things have been a little crazy around here and I just haven't really felt up to writing. But I'm back and there is so much that has happened. 

"It's important we start chemo as soon as surgery is over"

Since my last surgery, the plan was to have three cycles of chemo without the Oxaliplatin to give my liver some time to heal and to have a pressure test to make sure my liver had healed and we could move ahead with surgery two. I finished my three cycles of chemo with zero issues. At the start of October, I went back to Auckland to have the pressure test done. I would like to say there were zero issues with this, but that would be a lie. My appointment was at 12 and they mucked me around for almost an hour, had trouble accessing my port-a-cath (apparently they didn't have the correct sized needle for it), and spent ages setting up the treatment room. They shoved a massive tube into the artery in my neck and spent the next hour blowing up a balloon and deflating it to test the pressure. After pulling the tube out, the radiologist realised that they had only tested the right side of the liver. She spoke to one of the liver surgeons who said they also needed the left side tested. So they wheeled me back in and spent another hour testing the left side. To say I was annoyed is an understatement. And to say that it didn't hurt, would be a massive lie. You try having a massive tube placed in your neck and having someone tug on it every couple of seconds...

About a week later, I had a check in with Dr Kennedy which also included an updated CT scan. No matter how many scans I have, it never gets any easier. You constantly worry that something has changed, that things have gotten worse or haven't changed at all. Your mind goes to all kinds of places that you know it shouldn't but you can't really help it. But this time, my worrying was justified... My liver was looking better, and Dr Kennedy was sure surgery would go ahead. The bowel tumour was looking better. However, the tumour in my lung had gotten slightly bigger. I almost broke hearing those words. But Dr Kennedy wasn't overly concerned. It has just increased the need to get back on the full dose of chemo as soon as we can. We also spoke about whats next in treatment. I am now looking at bowel surgery pretty soon, as well as radiation to my bowel and potentially radiation and surgery to my lung. While I'm glad that we are now able to use other treatments, it means that I am on this journey for longer than what I had hoped. Because we are now talking about radiation and when you have radiation to the pelvis area it can completely destroy your ovaries, I decided I probably needed to broach the fertility subject with Dr Kennedy. I had tried talking to him about this when we first came up with my treatment plan, but due to how serious my diagnosis was, we didn't have time to investigate anything relating to fertility....

"Are babies in my future?"

Kids and fertility has been a pretty sore subject for me over the last few months. Its quite hard to come to terms with the notion that you may never be able to have kids and to have that choice be taken away from you, makes it even harder to deal with. When I was first diagnosed and chemo was booked in, Dr Kennedy mentioned that chemo can make you infertile. So while it wasn't 100% that I wouldn't be able to have kids, there was still a big possibility that it could happen. So for my own piece of mind, I needed to know for sure. My amazing nurse Aleisha was in this appointment and having her there made approaching the topic so much easier. Dr Kennedy then referred me to a fertility specialist and within a few days of this appointment, I was booked in to meet with the fertility specialist. We talked about egg harvesting and freezing, but as I've already had chemo this was not the best option. So option number two. We relocate my ovaries into my chest so that when I have radiation to my bowel, my ovaries will be out of the way and will still be in working order. She organised with my liver surgeon Adam Bartlett to have my ovaries relocated during my liver surgery. The fertility specialist also tested my egg hormones to make sure that I am still fertile and it turns out I am. She also reassured me that because of how young I am, the chemo is not likely to make me infertile. So for me, it was a really successful and reassuring appointment and has definitely lifted that weight off my shoulders. It's amazing the kinds of things that they can do to help preserve fertility. When the fertility specialist mentioned relocating my ovaries I thought she was crazy and taking the piss. But apparently not. They do this kind of thing all the time and its the best way to preserve fertility when radiation is on the cards. So if anyone has plans to punch me in the chest, please try to remember you'll probably be punching me in the ovaries... 

"Liver surgery round 2"

After having the pressure test and the updated CT scan, the wait to hear about surgery two was excruciating. But I finally got the call that surgery was to go ahead on the 24th of October. I knew surgery this time round would be more complicated. But at least I knew what to expect in terms of recovery. So on Labour Day we made the trip back to Auckland City Hospital. I was wheeled into the operating room around midday, leaving poor old Mother Duck to wait around. After almost four and a half hours under the knife, mum got the call that surgery went well but I would be in the High Dependency Unit due to how tough the surgery was. But I wasn't having any of that. I woke up feeling amazing and the recovery staff were more than happy for me to go back to the ward instead. So they successfully removed all the cancer from my liver and I am now left with about 30% of my liver. They also successfully relocated my ovaries to my chest. Additionally, my gall bladder was removed because when my liver starts to grow back, the gall bladder would be in the way and halt the growth so they whipped it out. I was up walking around the day after surgery and the day after that, the epidural was taken out. I recovered relatively quickly from the surgery but was seriously struggling with eating. Apparently this is very common after losing most of your liver and even now, I'm still struggling to eat three meals a day or to even finish an entire meal. After a week I was sent home to finish recovering, with an appointment to restart chemo three weeks after surgery. However, my body had other ideas. After a week of being home, I started to get quite sick. I was having hot and cold flushes, pain around my incision, nausea and my incision was weeping in places. Back to Auckland City Hospital we went on a Friday afternoon. After blood tests and a CT scan, I was told my primary tumour in my bowel was infected and I needed to be started on IV antibiotics but that they would try to get me home as soon as they could. Come the next day, I was being told by a completely different doctor that I had a deep muscle infection, IV antibiotics to treat it, that they don't like to discharge people on Sundays (which was a lie, they were discharging people left, right and centre), that they wanted me on IV antibiotics for at least 48-72 hours before letting me home on oral antibiotics but that IV anibiotics were probably over the top and I didn't really need them. So by about midday on Sunday, I discharged myself and wasn't even given oral antibiotics cause apparently I didn't need them. I spoke to Dr Kennedy the next day and found out from him that my incision was infected but the IV antibiotics did treat it. Moral of the story - don't go to hospital on the weekend as they don't know what they are talking about! 

I'm finally back on FOLFOX (the full chemo dose) and will be going in for a second cycle this week. I meet with Dr Kennedy on the 18th of December to find out what's next. I've just enjoyed two weekends in a row with visits from some of my amazing friends. These friends traveled hours just to spend a day or two with me and I am forever grateful for how amazing these people are and how they willingly take time out of their busy schedules to see me and make my day/week/month. After the last few months of constantly feeling knocked down, I'm starting to feel like I can keep going. I'm starting to get my life back and not feel like things are being taken away from me. And I'm starting to feel like the cancer wont win and that maybe I don't have to...

dream its over!

The Sign

I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes, 
I saw the sign
Life is demanding without understanding
I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes, 
I saw the sign
No one's gonna drag you up to get into the light where you belong
But where do you belong? - Ace of Base

Let's talk about signs. Not just regular signs but the signs or symptoms of Bowel Cancer. Sorry if you thought this was going to be another upbeat life update or something about rainbows and sunshine. No, no, no. We are going to talk about butts, poo, and probably colonoscopies. A lot of people don't like to talk about their butt or poo or having scopes put up their butt, its considered pretty taboo.. But its time we started and break the taboo because if we don't, more and more people will die from Bowel Cancer.

New Zealand has one of the highest incidences of Bowel Cancer in the world. Each year about 3,000 people are diagnosed with Bowel Cancer and more than 1,200 people will die from it. This is why it is important to know what the symptoms are. The earlier Bowel Cancer is caught, the easier it is to treat and the better the chances are of curing it.

"75% of Bowel Cancer is curable if caught early"

For those who aren't well acquainted with human anatomy, the bowel is part of the digestive system and is a long tube made up of the small bowel and the large bowel. Food and liquid are passed into the small bowel to be digested. The remains are then passed into the large bowel. The large bowel is made up of two parts: the colon and the rectum or butt hole as I like to call it. The colon removes liquid from the digested food leaving poos which is then passed into the rectum/butt hole and held until you go to the toilet. Who doesn't love a good poo yarn!

So, now that is out of the way, what the heck is Bowel Cancer? The most common form of bowel cancer occurs in the large bowel (colon or butt hole) and is sometimes called colorectal cancer. It can also occur in the small bowel, but this is unusual. Most bowel cancers start as benign (non-cancerous) innocent growths - called polyps - in the lining of the colon or rectum. Polyps are like small spots that for the most part don't produce symptoms and become pretty common as we age. Its important to note that polyps are not pre-cancerous - you can have polyps and never get bowel cancer. So just because you have a few polyps does not automatically mean you will be diagnosed with bowel cancer. However, it is always better to be safe than sorry. When left undetected, cancer cells will multiply to form a tumour in the bowel and if left untreated, the cells can travel into the bloodstream or lymph nodes, and can travel to other parts of the body. The most common places for bowel cancer to spread to are the liver and lungs. This is what happened to me.... This is why it is so important to catch bowel cancer early.

"The Doctor will see you now"

There are a number of symptoms that could mean bowel cancer, so it is important to know your body and be aware of when things change. The most important symptom of bowel cancer is bleeding from the butt and this can usually be paired with straining, soreness, lumps and achiness. The other important symptom is changes in bowel habits that continues over several weeks or longer. These changes could be constipation or diarrhoea, or feeling that your bowel doesn't completely empty, going to the toilet more often, or blood in your poos. Because blood loss goes hand in hand with bowel cancer, anaemia or low iron is a symptom of bowel cancer. Alongside this is unexplained weight loss, weakness and fatigue. You may also notice abdominal pain and lumps or a mass in your stomach. And just to make you feel even worse, you may even have persistent abdominal discomfort such as cramps, gas, bloating and stomach pain. 

SPOILER ALERT: you could have bowel cancer and never experience any symptoms. Or, the symptoms could be explained by other conditions or medication. Whether or not you suspect or are concerned about bowel cancer, it's still important to have these symptoms investigated. REMEMBER: just because the statistics say bowel cancer is more common in the 50 years and older age group, bowel cancer affects people of all ages. DO NOT accept "you're too young to have bowel cancer" as an explanation for your symptoms. Ask to be referred for further investigations and if you are still concerned, seek a SECOND OPINION! Don't settle for "it's just women's problems", "you're too young" or "you don't have a family history". Early detection is key to survival. 75% of bowel cancer is curable if caught early, which is why it is so important to know the symptoms, and get yourself tested.

Now for those of you who don't know, I am a prime example of someone who had bowel cancer and never experienced any symptoms. Well that's not entirely true. I had symptoms but didn't really notice them until I was going through the process of being diagnosed. And the symptoms I did notice, I was able to explain them with something else. I was on pain medication which explained the changes in my poos. I have endometriosis which explained the stomach pain. I was quite stressed out due to work and had just left a stressful home environment so thought my weight loss and decreased appetite/vomiting was due to this. Also from what I knew about bowel cancer, I thought I was too young to have it. And anyway, who notices some symptoms and automatically thinks "OMG I HAVE CANCER". When I was diagnosed, the symptoms I had been experiencing and the ones I failed to notice, totally made sense. I was a walking time-bomb and didn't even realise it. This is why it is soooooo important to me to make the people I care about aware of the signs and symptoms of bowel cancer. If I can save one person from having to go through what I am going through then my journey will be worthwhile. 

If I had just opened my eyes and saw the signs, then maybe I could have been diagnosed earlier. But I didn't know the signs, and I didn't think I was old enough and quite frankly, I didn't think I would get cancer. So maybe you can open up your eyes.....

And see the signs!

You Can't Always Get What You Want

You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes you might find
You get what you need - The Rolling Stones

Its been two weeks since I went under the knife to have the cancer removed from my liver and I am slowly beginning to recover with the help of some amazing pain medications. While the safety of being in hospital was great, I must admit, there is nothing like recovering from a major surgery in your own bed.

"Surgery didn't go as expected"

I woke up from surgery feeling pretty good, until I realised just how many needles I had sticking out of me. I had gone to sleep with an IV line in each arm and an epidural in my back for pain. But I woke up with two IV lines in each arm and a central line in my neck, I couldn't feel anything from my chest to the top of my legs and to top it all off, they had placed a catheter in while I was sleeping. At least I didn't have to worry about going to the toilet... I was supposed to spend at least 24 hours in the High Dependency Unit (HDU) but because I had responded well to surgery and woken up feeling like I was walking on sunshine, they didn't think HDU was necessary. I lay in recovery happily chatting away to everyone, while also nagging at them to take me back to my ward. It wasn't until I got back to my ward and saw my relieved mother, that I was told just how long I had been away for and that things hadn't gone as planned. I was wheeled into theatre at 8am, was in surgery for a few hours and sat in recovery until 3pm. My poor, poor mother, I'm still surprised that she had any hair left.



It wasn't until Dr Bartlett had opened me up that he saw just how damaged my liver was from chemo. My liver was BLUE!!! Apparently one of the chemo meds, Oxaliplatin, had made my liver really fatty and increased the pressure in my liver making it really hard to work with. He managed to cut out the cancer in the left lobe, but due to how much I was bleeding, it was too risking to try and do anything with the right lobe. Plus, they found a new lesion by one of the main arteries and had to stop surgery. They got it tested, not cancer but still cause for concern. So had he gone further with surgery it is highly likely I could have bled out... So it was still too risky for Dr Bartlett to do the second surgery a week later, so liver surgery number two has been postponed six weeks. Hopefully thie will be enough time for the liver to heal, and the pressure to subside. In the meantime, Dr Kennedy has decided that its to risky to be off chemo for too long and I have already had another cycle of chemo. This chemo regimen is different however. Dr Kennedy has taken the Oxaliplatin out and I only have the Folinc Acid and Fluorouracil. By taking out the Oxaliplatin, it wont increase the pressure in my liver and will give my liver time to heal. So I have this chemo regimen for three cycles, then get an updated CT scan and undergo a test called a Wedge Pressure test. This test involves inserting a catheter either through my arm or groin into my liver, place a balloon inside and blow it up and it will test the amount of pressure that pushes back on the balloon. So long as the pressure has subsided, surgery will go forward. If not, then D Kennedy, Dr Bartlett, and myself will be having a major discussion about what is next...

On the bright side, I finally got my wish... A porta-cath was inserted during surgery and is already in use for this cycle of chemo. It is accessed by numbing up the skin, and piercing the skin with a rather large needle with an IV line attached to it. You can feel it underneath the skin and can see a slight bump on my chest where the port sits, but otherwise you wouldn't know it was there. Apart from when the chemo pump is attached of course... In terms of pain, the first few days after surgery were fully pain free, thanks to my amazing friend the epidural. If you are ever having surgery and this is offered as a option for pain management, I highly recommend it. It makes those first few days after a massive surgery easier to get through and allows you to get up an moving around much more quickly. I was going for walks less than 24 hours after surgery, granted it was only to the shower but at least I was up. On the Monday, the catheter and the epidural were taken out and my pain was managed by oral medication instead. There was a massive difference between the epidural and normal pain meds. I went from feeling absolutely nothing to feeling everything. It took a bit but we managed to sort out the right way to manage the pain. I easily became the nurses favourite patient on the ward. No complaining, no unnecessary buzzer pushing and the most eager to get home. Another plus, no stitches! I was actually looking forward to seeing how many stitches I was going to have, until I remembered having to take them out. Instead, Dr Bartlett just glued me back together. The incision is looking pretty tidy so I wont quite look like Frankenstein's monster..

Coming home after a major surgery is never easy. I was in a lot of pain and angry at the world for surgery two not happening. While I understand why the second surgery couldn't happen, I'm still annoyed that I will have to go through all of this again in about a month. But at least I'm home, in my own bed and have mumma bear to help me. She's a real trooper. You really can't always get what you want, I've learnt that with this experience. But at least.....

You get what you need!

The Final Countdown

It's the final countdown

The final countdown - Europe

I am currently sitting in my hospital bed, counting down the time until I am wheeled into the operating room to have a surgery that will leave me looking like Frankenstein's monster. Well I wont actually look like a monster, but the scar is going to be pretty impressive. Although i'm scared and nervous for this surgery, I'm still amazed that it is happening and I know that I need to have it. Without this surgery, the cancer is highly likely to come back, so I just have to suck it up and pretend to be superwoman.

"The surgery is necessary to prolong your life" 

When i was first diagnosed, I was told that the cancer had spread to my liver and that there were multiple tumours in my liver. What I didn't know or didn't want to know, was how much of my liver was over taken with cancer. Later on, I found out that one of the tumours was 10cm and pretty much took up the entire right lobe of my liver, and there were smaller tumours in the left lobe. I guess this is why they told me that surgery was not an option to begin with. Many people have asked why they can't just give me a new liver, and the reason is because it can spread to the new liver which would be a waste of a perfectly healthy liver. Besides, I wouldn't want to take a healthy liver away from someone else who may need it more. So, the only option is a liver resection, which is where they remove a portion or portions of the liver that is diseased with the ideal outcome of all the cancer being removed. The awesome thing about the liver is that it can regenerate to its original size within a few weeks to months. So although they may need to take quite a large amount of the liver out, within a short amount of time, my liver will grow back to its normal size. It will also be able to function the same way a full normal sized liver does. It just wont look like a normal liver.

"I'm a pretty conservative surgeon"

I met with the surgeon, Dr Adam Bartlett, last week and I can honestly say that he is one of the best surgeons that I have ever had to deal with. Of course, he just had to mentioned his success rate - out of 800 patients, he has only had one die. That's pretty reassuring in my humble opinion. He was also pretty honest about the situation, and admitted that he doesn't know what he will actually do until he slices me open. Although I have had multiple scans leading up to surgery, the scans can only tell him so much. So, we discussed the two procedures he may use, depending on what my liver looks like when he opens me up.

The first procedure is just a normal liver resection where he will go in, remove the entire right love of the liver and remove the parts of the left lobe that contain the tumours and then sew or staple me back together. His problem with this procedure is that I could go into liver failure due to removing such a large amount of liver. So while, he would love to just do everything in one surgery, he also knows that this is probably not the best option. The other procedure is called the ALPPS procedure. This is a relatively new technique that involves resecting the liver in two steps and makes use of the regenerative capacity of the liver. The first surgery will involve Dr Bartlett cutting off the blood supply to the right lobe so it only functions at 40%. He will then remove the parts of the left lobe and tag the remaining arteries and veins that will either stay or go during surgery two. He will also wrap the right lobe in a plastic bag to stop it from sticking to other organs. After a week, he will go back in and completely remove the right lobe. By completing the surgery in two steps, it reduces the risk of liver failure, and allows the liver to grow significantly within a short timeframe. Dr Bartlett prefers this option as it has a higher success rate and allows the liver to grow quickly. So, hopefully I'll only spend about six hours in the operating room and hopefully only two weeks in hospital. This is the more conservative approach and Dr Bartlett has refined it from being a 12 hour surgery to only four or five hours, and the second surgery is barely even a surgery as it only takes about 45 minutes.

Obviously, I'm not a surgeon, so I don't know all the ins and outs of what will be happening. But this is my basic understanding of the surgery, As much as I would prefer to only have one surgery, I would prefer to have Dr Bartlett take a more conservative approach rather than trying to be a total rockstar and have something go wrong. He is a rockstar anyway, but let's be honest, we don't want him to be too risky.

I'm looking pretty good in my hospital gown and socks and I'm first on the list for surgery this morning. Haven't slept too much but at least I'll have a nice long nap today. Got my mumma sitting with me waiting to be wheeled up to the operating room. Wish me luck!

It's the Final Countdown!!

Good Life

Oh, this has gotta be the good life
This has gotta be the good life
This could really be a good life, good life
Say oh, got this feeling that you can't fight
Like this city is on fire tonight
This could really be a good life
A good, good life - One Republic

Learning you have cancer can really change your outlook on life. You begin to appreciate and find joy in the small things in life and that you can live your best life. You also learn to take advantage of any break in treatment to do something for yourself.

"Round One done and dusted"

I have finally finished Round One of chemo!!!! The fifth cycle was a little problematic as my platelet count was too low and chemo had to be pushed back a week. But the extra week break was exactly what I needed and my platelet count was back to normal and cycle five went ahead as normal. Cycle six went off without a hitch however, the side effects really kicked my ass for the last two cycles. Alongside chemo, I have had to give myself an injection called Pegfilgratism which is used to stimulate the growth of healthy white blood cells. Its not fun having to jab yourself in the stomach but I suppose I should be used to needles by now! So now that Round one is over, I am having a much needed break from chemo while I have and recover from my liver surgery. Once I have recovered enough, Round Two will begin. But for now, I can start eating ice cream again. Let's be honest, I never really stopped but at least now I can have it without being in pain!! It really is a good life when you can eat ice cream!!

The end of Round One also saw the removal of the dreaded PICC line. I can't even explain how excited and relieved I was when it came out. No more plastic sleeves to cover the line, no more skin reactions to dressing, not as many visits to the District Health Nurses, no more catching the line on door handles, or worrying about one of the dogs accidentally ripping the line out. And finally, no more people staring at me and wondering what is wrong with me when I wear short sleeved shirts. So the plan is to insert a Portacath during liver surgery which is going to make life so much easier. It's amazing how something as mundane as removing a PICC line can make you feel so much better about yourself. 

"Home is where the Heart is"

I've been floating on cloud nine since finding out that chemo is working. It's still hard to believe that everything is working and I feel like I'm finally getting control of my life back. A cancer diagnosis can really mess with your sense of control so while I am on a break from treatment, I decided to take that control back and booked a flight back home to Wellington. I spent the weekend just gone in Wellington and it was the best thing I have done for myself since being diagnosed. Since being diagnosed I have not been alone. You can guarantee that almost every hour of every day since d-day, I have always had someone with me. I guess I was scared to be alone in case something happened. But it also meant that I lost my independence. So being back home in Wellington meant relying on myself, being independent again and finally being in control of my life. Lunches with friends, dinners with friends, drinks to celebrate an engagement, a wedding dress fitting, shopping and karaoke kept me busy the entire weekend. But it felt like a normal weekend for me. I also popped into work and spent a few hours immersed in work and work dramas which made me feel like I was still apart of that work environment. Plus, I got to spend time with some of my amazing work family.

It was good to have some time to myself, to do things for myself and to just be myself again. I didn't have to worry about cancer, or chemo, or surgery, or what appointments I have coming up. It was almost as if my life had returned to the way it was before cancer. I was reminded about the good life I had before cancer but it also made me realise how good life is even with cancer. I have amazing friends and family and things I still want to do and accomplish and I can still enjoy a good life even with a cancer diagnosis.

This could really be a good life, a good, good life!!!

The Champion

I am invincible, unbreakable
Unstoppable, unshakeable
They knock me down, I get up again
I am the champion
You're gonna know my name
You can't hurt me now
I can't feel the pain
I was made for this, yeah, I was born to win
I am the champion - Carrie Underwood feat. Ludacris

Today was a big day. Today was an important day. Today was the day that I found out whether or not the chemo is working. Today was the day that I had been preparing myself for, for the last month. It was a day that most people will never have to experience but I did. 

"SCANXIETY".

If you've never experienced anxiety before, waiting for a CT scan and the results of that scan will ensure anxiety symptoms pop up. This last month has seen my anxiety levels skyrocket. It's something that other cancer patients have described as SCANXIETY - anxiety experienced due to an upcoming scan to determine whether treatment is working. Today was supposed to have happened two weeks ago on the 12th of July but due to the nurses strike (which I wholeheartedly support - nurses are amazing people) the scan and appointment didn't happen. Pushing this day back was annoying and stressful but it allowed me to be even more prepared for the news. 

When I first met with my amazing oncologist Dr Kennedy, he explained the situations we could be in. He painted this picture: we have 100 people who have the exact same diagnosis as me and receiving the same chemotherapy. For 25 of that 100, the chemo would not work at all - no shrinkage of the cancer and maybe new cancer growth. For another 25, the chemo would sort of work - maybe a small amount of shrinkage of the cancer or it keeps the cancer stable. For the remaining 50, the chemo would work great - good amounts of shrinkage. I hoped I would be in either group of people where the chemo is working. But I was prepared for the worst news possible - that chemo is not working and maybe more cancer has popped up. My anxiety was at an all time high while I was sitting in that waiting room. The CT scan was easy but waiting for the results was the hard part. In cases like mine, you prepare for the worst, but hope like hell for the best.

"Your scans are even better than what I expected".

He said the words that I never thought I would hear. MY CANCER IS SHRINKING!!!!! And its not shrinking just a little bit, chemo has significantly decreased the size of the tumours. The chemo is working and its working even better than what Dr Kennedy expected it to. You cant even begin to imagine how I felt in that moment. I was elated, relieved, surprised, shocked, but above all grateful and happy. This result makes all the needles, the chemo, the side effects of chemo, the long days spent at the hospital and the constant blood tests worth it. It means that everything that I am doing, that Dr Kennedy is doing, that my nurses are doing, that my family and friends are doing is making a difference and is giving me the best chance at survival. I am unbreakable and I am a champion. And I will beat this.

This has also opened up the doors to surgery. Due to the significant shrinkage of the tumours in my liver, surgery is more than just an option. It is happening. The surgeon will be removing the cancer from my liver and leaving me with enough liver to function while it regenerates itself. This surgery is also giving me the best chance at survival and as much as the idea of a massive surgery scares me, I am so lucky that it is happening. I meet with the anaesthetist tomorrow and the surgeon next Tuesday and then surgery will be officially booked in and is likely to happen within the next two weeks. Another piece of good news - my PICC line is going to be taken out and a Portacath will be put in while I have the liver surgery. A portacath is an implanted IV device which sits under the skin just below the collarbone. It can be accessed for chemo and means I will not have to worry about dressing changes (especially since I'm allergic to all the dressings they use), line infections, or having to cover it when showering or swimming. It is going to make life so much easier. Its the little things in life! And I am so grateful for these little things. I'm so grateful that my treatment plan is working and that my body is doing exactly what it should. 

While today was an extremely long and tiring day, it was also a good day. And I will take as many good days as I can get. The cancer diagnosis completely knocked me off my feet but I got up and I'm a fighter. I know now that I am unstoppable. I was born a winner and I will beat this. 

I am a CHAMPION!!!

It's My Life

It's my life
It's now or never
I ain't gonna live forever
I just want to live while I'm alive
(It's my life)
My heart is like an open highway
Like Frankie said
I did it my way
I just want to live while I'm alive
It's my life – Bon Jovi

When you've been told that you have a life threatening disease, its easy to forget that you still have a life to live. Everything starts to resolve around the cancer and you forget that you are still a person and not a walking statistic.

"With the surgery, I can give you two or three years".

A few weeks ago, I had a pretty shitty appointment with a surgeon. From the moment I was diagnosed I was told that surgery was not an option and chemo was all we could do. But now, a surgeon has looked at my scans and decided that surgery on my liver is a possibility. The appointment was to discuss the surgery, what it would involve, recovery time etc and to meet the surgeon. However, that's not really what happened. Rather than focus on the surgery, the surgeon decided to tell me how long I would live with and without the surgery based on his "expert opinion". Finding out I could be having surgery was a shock, but also being given a timeline just made the entire appointment worse. My oncologist hasn't even told me this as he doesn't know and wouldn't want to give me false hope. So how could this surgeon possibly know something that my oncologist doesn't and why did he feel the need to throw me in the deep end without some floaties? I'm only at the beginning of my treatment so hearing this news has really thrown me.

The news really affected me and I wallowed in my self-pity for a few days before I remembered that I still have a life to live. I'm not going to life forever, no-one is, so I might as well get off my pity train and live my life, and live it my way. 

A few days after this appointment, my amazing friend Ellie came over from Sydney and kept me distracted for a few days. It was so refreshing to get out of the house, and not for another hospital appointment, but to actually do something for me. I spent too much money shopping (face palm), had a relaxing spa, which helped with the aches and pains from chemo, and just generally enjoyed being ME again. So to Ellie, thank you for visiting and keeping me distracted, thank you for letting me be me again and thank you for being you! I also went to the pub with my crazy family. I played pool, which I'm not very good at, I had a few drinks, laughed, danced, sang and watched my mama sing and dance (slightly embarrassing). These few days weren't about the cancer, it was about me enjoying my life with friends and my weird family. For the first time since I was diagnosed, I didn't feel like the girl with cancer...

Yes I'm sick but that doesn't mean I have to live my life as a sick person. My life does not have to resolve around cancer and it doesn't have to define me. I don't have to live as the girl with cancer, I can just be Tiana. So whether I only have 3 years or 60 years to live, I'm going to live my life and do the things that I want to do.

"I Refuse to Sink".

I refuse to be defined by my cancer. I refuse to let the cancer control my life. I refuse to live my life as a cancer patient. And I refuse to let the cancer beat me. This is why I got this tattoo. I want everyone to know that I REFUSE TO SINK. I'm going to live my best life, whether that means getting tattoos or going bungy jumping, but I'm going to do what I want, when I want and it'll all be for me. It's taken some time for me to realise that I can have cancer and still be myself, and that I can live my life the best way I can. So I'm going to come up with a list, a Bucket List if you will, of things that I want to do, things I want to see and I plan on ticking each one of these things off. At the end of my life I want to be able to say that I did it, and I did it my way. 

This is my one and only life, and it's now or never. I just want to live while I'm alive. 

Just Like a Pill

"I can't stay on your life support, there's a shortage in the switch
I can't stay on your morphine, 'cause its making me itch
I said I tried to call the nurse again but she's being a little bitch
I think I'll get outta here, where I can
Run just as fast as I can
To the middle of nowhere
To the middle of my frustrated fears
And I swear you're just like a pill
'Stead of makin' me better, you keep makin' me ill
You keep makin' me ill - Pink

I started my second cycle of chemotherapy yesterday. While I am glad there is something that can be done to treat my cancer, its hard to believe that something that can treat you, can also make you sick.

This is a Peripherally Inserted Central (PICC) catheter. A PICC line is a flexible tube that has been inserted into a vein in my arm. The catheter is threaded along the vein and rests in the major vessel just outside the heart. This line allows for repeated doses of drug treatment without having people continuously jab me with needles. THUMBS UP!! So this is how my chemo is administered every fortnight. 

I cant feel the line at all but I know it's there and I do have to be careful with it. No getting it wet, no strenuous activity (gets me out of doing housework, again THUMBS UP), the dressing has to be changed every week and keeping it clean is the most important thing. Showering can be a pain, same with swimming but at least I'm not getting stabbed with needles all the time. Its the small things people!

My chemo day starts off with making sure the line isn't blocked, changing the dressing and a lovely mix of anti-nausea medications and lorazepam to help with anxiety and to make me sleepy. Finally they hook me up to all the chemo medication.

The first lot of chemo are the bags on the outside, Oxaliplatin (in the black bag) and Folinic Acid. These are administered over two hours and are then flushed through my system using Glucose. The Oxaliplatin works by interfering with cell growth and reproduction, eventually destroying the cancer cells while the Folinic Acid increases the anti-cancer effects of the other chemo medications.

"I WANT TO SUCK YOUR BLOOD". Next is an iron infusion. Apparently my iron levels are extremely low, so for the next few chemo cycles I have to have iron infusions to bring my levels back up. The iron is administered over 30 minutes and again is flushed through with Glucose. Its crazy how much energy you end up with when your iron levels are starting to normalise!

My chemo day finishes with these two lovely things known as Fluorouracil or 5-FU. 5-FU is given as an injection into the vein and then I am hooked up to a pump which works by allowing a small amount of 5-FU an hour to be released from the pump and continuously infuses over 46 hours. I have to carry this pump with me everywhere, usually in my pocket, until it is removed after the infusion period.

"You will experience some side effects with this chemo".

NO SHIT SHERLOCK!!!! I'm so grateful that my cancer is being treated but the side effects of chemo almost make you question whether it is worth it. I'm lucky that this chemo will only thin my hair out and not completely loose it. However, the other side effects are really kicking my ass. There's the nausea and projectile vomiting. I do have anti-nausea meds to help with this but it doesn't entirely prevent it. Next is the taste and appetite changes. Some foods just don't taste the same or can taste like metal. The chemo also messes with my appetite, making me not wanting to eat or feeling like I can't eat. This usually comes back right before I start my next cycle of chemo - YAY ME. Next is the fatigue. For me, it lasts throughout the entire course of treatment. I might be lucky to get a few days of reprieve but I'm tired all the time and usually need an afternoon nap. Its like being a toddler again. Now here are my favourites - the constipation and diarrhoea. The constipation starts the day after chemo and can last a couple of days, then the diarrhoea kicks in for a couple of days. Again it usually corrects right before I start the next cycle of chemo. The strangest side effect is the pain I get in my fingers, feet and throat triggered by cold temperatures. If I have ice cream it feels as if there is something sharp going down my throat and if I try to take something out of the freezer, it can cause pain in my finger tips. Its extremely odd and quite annoying - I love ice cream... 

The side effect I am really struggling with is the decreased immune system. Mum has taken to disinfecting everything, its quite cute. But it still hasn't stopped me from getting a cold. Someone can have the smallest cough or runny nose but when I get it, I end up with a full blown cold. Sore throat, runny nose, chesty cough, headaches, ear aches, body aches and a cold sore. I am also at a higher risk of infection so I have to be extra careful. Moral of the story, even if your only slightly sick - please do not visit anyone going through chemo. Save them from experiencing at least one pain in the ass side effect!

I know I shouldn't complain, because I know I'm getting the treatment that I need. But its kind of hard to be grateful when you feel like absolute crap every minute of every day. When receiving chemo, you do expect to experience some side effects - chemo and side effects come hand in hand. But it makes it hard to keep going when you experience every side effect under the sun. You would think that with all the advances in medicine that they could eliminate some of these side effects. It just blows my mind that a treatment that is supposed to destroy cancer can actually make you feel worse than the cancer does.

Its supposed to make me feel better but it keeps making me feel ill. 

You've Got A Friend in Me

"You've got a friend in me
You've got a friend in me

You got troubles, I've got 'em too
There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you
We stick together and see it through
Cause you've got a friend in me
You've got a friend in me" - from Toy Story

When you receive bad news and all you can do is sit there and watch your life fall apart, its your friends that tend to pull you back and help put the pieces of your life back together. 

"I'm here for you 100% for anything and everything"

In the first few days after my cancer diagnosis, I was so lucky to be surrounded by amazing friends who kept me smiling, laughing, came to appointments, got me drunk, brought me presents, checked in on me every day and even fed me and my mum. It was in those first few days that I realised just how lucky I am to have such amazing friends.

When it came to making the decision to move home for treatment, the one thing that was holding me to Wellington was the people I would be leaving behind. I was worried that I wouldn't have the same support or network of people in Paeroa. I was so wrong about that. Friends that I had lost contact with or just had not spoken to in a while got in touch and reminded me that no matter where I am, I still have amazing people around me. I ran into an old friend the other day and on this day I was feeling pretty crappy and not myself. Rather than tip toeing around me, she just launched herself at me and hugged me. It was the smallest thing, but she completely made my day and made me feel a million times better. It made me realise that although I may have lost contact with old friends, they are still there for me as if time hasn't passed. When you've been friends for a long time, time or lack of contact doesn't change a thing.

I must admit, as grateful as I was for having these amazing friends, I was also feeling pretty bitter and angry about the situation. I have friends who have brought houses, gotten engaged/married, gotten new jobs, having babies or are just generally living their best lives, and I'm over here with cancer. I felt as if their lives had really begun and mine was coming to a massive halt. Seeing my friends living their best lives made me angry and bitter because it made me question whether I am going to live long enough for these things to happen to me or whether I will ever get to experience the joy and happiness that they are experiencing... 

But then I remembered the happiness I felt when I was asked to be a bridesmaid, or the excitement I felt when I got a Snapchat of a resignation letter, or the embarrassment of a messy Saturday night story and I realised that I'm living through these experiences with my friends and I get to feel the same things they do. So although it may not be happening to me, I still get to be part of the experience and that's enough for me.

These last few weeks I've been reminded that I'm not facing my cancer alone and there are people who are sticking by me and would do anything for me. I've got a friend in so many people and although I don't see them everyday, I know they are there and I want them to feel the same. 

To my amazing friends, You've Got a Friend in Me!

The Climb

"There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose
Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb" - Miley Cyrus

At the age of 25, I am being brought face-to-face with my first major mountain to climb. At 25, I have been diagnosed with Stage 4 Bowel Cancer which has spread to my liver and I am facing a massive uphill battle with no certainty that I will win.

"I'm sorry but you have cancer". 

You never expect to hear those words. You never expect that it will happen to you. And you never expect to have your entire life crumble down around you... One minute your living your life, the next your being told that your entire world is about to change and you have some big decisions to make.

It's been just over a month since I was first diagnosed and my life has already drastically changed. I packed up my entire life in Wellington and moved home to little old Paeroa, I left my job, my amazing work friends and my ever supportive friends who have become my family. I've had more blood tests than ever before, an ultrasound and CT scans, a surgery to save my bowel, met with doctor after doctor, nurses and more nurses, heard more medical jargon than I could ever begin to understand, and had a room full of medical professionals that I have never met, decide what they think is best for me without my own input or opinion. These medical professionals decided that chemotherapy is the best option right now and yesterday I started my first round of chemotherapy. 

I watched as my mother was told that she may loose her daughter and then watched in absolute awe as she held herself together to make sure she was doing everything possible to get me home and get me healthy. I watched as she made phone call after phone call to tell my family the news, and as she helped me pack me life up all the while holding herself together to protect me. She put all her emotions and feelings aside and still pushes everything aside to make sure she's doing everything she can for me and every day she amazes me even more. My family and friends have been absolute superstars, so supportive and I'm just so lucky to have the most amazing people in my life, who would do anything for me.

It's been a month of struggle. I have struggled with who I should tell, how to tell them, whether they will be able to cope and whether I will be treated differently. I struggled with the initial C-bomb, the doctor's decision to insert a colostomy bag to save my bowel, the decision to move home to Paeroa, with whether I'll be able to have children, but mostly I have struggled with how to accept being 25 and being diagnosed with life-threatening cancer. 

I suppose this blog is a way to help me accept these changes and to have a safe place to put my thoughts and feelings without feeling like I might hurt or offend anyone. And maybe its also a way to tell people about these changes without the feeling of having people pity me or feel sorry for me. I don't want to be pitied and I don't want people to feel sorry for me. I've come to realise that one of the most important things that I need as a cancer patient, is to be treated as normal. I'm just me, with a little something extra on the side now...

Each blog post will be titled with a song title, as it can help describe how I'm feeling. Currently, I'm facing a massive climb, it doesn't matter how fast I'll get to the other-side and it doesn't matter what's on the other side of that mountain. 

What matters is I'm willing to fight and face The Climb.