Baby Got Back

We were finally out of hospital...

...and we came home and got to work adapting to being a family of four. That and remembering how utterly knackering the newborn stage is - we waved goodbye to sleep and got to grips with being elbow deep in nappies and baby milk. Things ticked along pretty normally - Connor was still breathing pretty fast but we were told that he would continue to do so until he cleared the air from around his lung. Things were bone-achingly tiring but they were also 'normal' and we slowly got used to it.

Then everything changed. Connor developed a cough at four weeks of age but we put it down to the fact that we'd all also had a mild cough, I can't tell you how much I wish now that we'd been right about that. A few days after the cough started he then became very sleepy and stopped taking as much milk - for Connor that's a big deal as he's a large baby with an equally large appetite, so we started to think something was up. Luckily our very brilliant Health Visitor changed her plans the day we contacted her and came to check on him for us. When she arrived he was showing some little signs that he was struggling to breathe - she took one look at him and suggested we take him to A&E for review. 

Children's A&E was RAMMED. Like, only one parent allowed RAMMED. We eventually got seen and by then Connor was really struggling to maintain his oxygen levels. He was diagnosed with bronchiolitis, put on oxygen and a little feeding tube was placed down his nose. It was a total whirlwind, especially because I'd convinced myself on the drive in to the hospital that they'd laugh us out of A&E for wasting their time. I do have to say that despite how busy children's A&E was, as soon as they realised that Connor had the pneumothorax we were immediately prioritised and seen really quickly; I am so very grateful for that.

That was Tuesday. It's now Sunday and he's still in hospital. The level of stress is unreal. The viral swab that they took when he arrived came back that he has the common cold and a virus called RSV (Respiratory Syncytial Virus) - they're both pretty common but unfortunately in Connor it's spread to his lungs and caused the bronchiolitis. Viruses cannot be treated with antibiotics so they just have to manage the side effects which will then allow him to fight the viruses and hopefully start to recover, It's incredibly difficult to watch your tiny baby fight something that you cannot see and cannot fight for them.

That's where we are, waiting for improvement. He's not 100% better but at the same time he's not getting worse. So we wait. Because of the RSV and the fact that viruses are contagious we have been put into our own little cubicle. I can't quite bring myself to call it a side room as it's pretty much a cupboard with a sink.

• Cubicle pros - our own TV, being able to talk & sing to myself and know that no one thinks I'm a little bit on the weird side.
• Cubicle cons - it makes me think that I'm Harry Potter, if Harry Potter never got his Hogwarts letter and had a sick baby - basically it's quite small with no windows

Now we've become those parents, the kind of parents that the staff have come to recognise in the corridor because they've been there so long, There are many little head nods in greeting as I amble from my cubicle to the toilet & back and my name has now changed to become 'Connor's Mum'.

So we keep going, every time that he manages to maintain his oxygen levels for a little while, or he takes a little more milk at a feed, or he just opens his eyes and we can see that he's really realising we're there - it's all a little win and helps us to briefly & optimistically imagine the moment when he's well enough to come home and we can start to be a family again.

Final mention is our little Dylan, he is absolutely taking this all in his stride and we are impressed with how well he's coping. Every day he's carted off to someone else's house so that we can swap over at the hospital and every day he deals with the changes with minimal fuss. It sounds corny but he's our little ray of sunshine and we couldn't be more proud of him. 

That's all I have for now. Stay tuned for updates! Every fibre of my being hopes for some good news soon.

Love, Meg xx

P.S. Liking my story? Why not follow or subscribe by email below? I promise I won't bombard you with lots of blog posts, I'm strictly a every few weeks kinda gal.

The Next Adventure

Hello again.

It's been quite a long time since I loaded up this blog hasn't it? To be perfectly honest I thought that it would be something that I would not update again, but seems that life has thrown me quite a few curve balls lately and I am going to use this as a place to write about that. It's mainly for self-preservation but if you'd like to come along for the ride then strap yourself in. 

Let's do this.

In my last blog post I'd just had my baby, Dylan. Well, Dylan has now transformed into the most hilarious, independent and gorgeus two-year-old ever - although I'm aware I'm pretty biased on that front. Where did my chunk of a baby go though? 

Here's the little monster in question:

As a small insight into Dylbert, his favourite words are currently "No", "Mine" and "Beebies" (for when he wants CBeebies on the TV) - so I think we've got this parenting thing sussed, right? Please note the sarcasm - I don't think anyone ever has parenting sussed, if they tell you that they do then they are a big fat liar. It's a bloody rollercoaster - you've just got to buckle yourself in, hold on tight and try not to get yourself covered in vomit. Or snot. Why is there so much snot?!?

With that in mind, Warren and I had a little chat and came to the conclusion that we really hate sleeping at night and seeing our friends whenever we want. So we decided to have another baby. After a few terrifying bumps in the road, we finally got pregnant and were well on our way to having baby number two.

I'll speed through the next bit for you - hospitalised at 24 weeks with possible pre-term labour (luckily false), regular scans as this baby was predicted to be a chunk (unluckily true) and then booked in for an induction at 38 weeks. I wish I'd also had the summary and not lived through that to be honest, pregnancy is so bloody anxiety inducing!

I also won't bore you/freak you out (delete as appropriate) with the labour and birth details. In summary it was another speedy labour and our baby boy, Connor, was born in the early hours of the 6th November. 

Here's the little grump:

I DIDN'T sustain another horrendous, can't-sit-down-ever tear or haemorrhage like I did with Dylan and I honestly thought we were home and dry.

But we weren't home and dry. Unfortunately Connor was the one that took the hit this time - I would honestly have given anything for it to have been me that suffered if I could have spared him just one second of discomfort. That's the thing about having babies, the Mum-guilt starts as soon as they're born and they place them onto your chest for a cuddle. If you haven't had a baby yet then just know that you have been warned on that one.

When he was born, he was purple and didn't cry. Paediatricians were bleeped, he was placed on the resuscitaire (if you haven't seen your baby on a resuscitaire then count yourself as one of the lucky ones) and they did everything that they could to make him cry. He didn't. As a result of that, he didn't inflate his lungs properly and couldn't maintain his oxygen levels. The decision was then made to take him to special care for 'a little while' for oxygen and observation. 

So off they went, with Warren also in tow. The Midwives also left shortly afterwards to complete all the paperwork and put the birth on the system. I have to say that the silence after they all left was deafening and I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I don't really want to talk about that time but I will say that being on your own in an empty and silent delivery room when you should have your newborn baby in your arms is one of the worst things I've ever experienced. And, if you've read my previous posts, you'll know I've had my fair share of crappy experiences.

Connor, it turned out, wasn't in special care for 'a little while', he was there for five very long, very stressful days. The day after arriving he was diagnosed with a pneumothorax (collapsed lung) and was put onto a machine to provide oxygen and pressure to keep his lung open until he started to recover. I have to stop here just to say that the special care team are TRULY FANTASTIC. They were so friendly and explained everything as we went along, they also provided me with many kind words and tissues (so many tissues) when I had one of my multiple wobbles and messy cried AT them. From day one we knew he was in safe hands and they were just amazing, beautiful human beings. Not to get too political but they honestly aren't paid enough for all the work that they do.

Here's our little monkey getting his money's worth from the NHS:

After five days he was well enough to be discharged from special care to the ward and then a few days later (after being in hospital for a week) we were finally discharged home to begin our next adventure as a family of four. I honestly thought we were home and dry.

But we weren't home and dry.

Love, Meg xx

P.S. Liking my story? Why not follow or subscribe by email below? I promise I won't bombard you with lots of blog posts, I'm strictly a every few weeks kinda gal.

Baby It's Covid Outside.

 Hello everyone!

If you're reading this then I just want to welcome you back to my blog, it's been a while hasn't it? I didn't write anything throughout the whole of 2020, which I think is perfectly understandable given what we all went through (and are still going through, unfortunately).

So, I'm still cancer free - which is bloody amazing - buuuuut I have had another life change in the shape of my gorgeous chunkarino called Dylan. Here he is:

- Just so you know I'm thinking a mix of "Holy crap, I'm now responsible for this person" and "I just pushed this out my body. I'm a flipping amazing human being."

This lovely boy was born 15th November 2020 and weighed a humungous 4.3kg (9lb 11oz in old money) and boy did I know about it. Skip the next paragraph if you're in any way squeamish as it's about to get TMI very fast. You have been warned.

I was induced at 41 weeks (1 week over my due date) as he was measuring big - in hindsight he'd been measuring big since 20 weeks but I saw a different doctor at every appointment so I never really got very much continuity. This isn't a moan about the NHS, they did an amazing job but were so stretched that at every appointment I had to inform them of my clinical history as it was always a new face. Luckily I saw an amazing Midwife at 40 weeks who was shocked when I waddled in still pregnant and referred me back to hospital ASAP. Two days later I was in to be induced and twelve hours after that he was born. THANK YOU AWESOME MIDWIFE - I can't remember your name (as I only met you that one time) but if I had been left another week he would have been even bigger and who knows what would have happened? This is the TMI bit but I already ended up with a postpartum haemorrhage and a third degreee tear - DO NOT GOOGLE EITHER OF THOSE THINGS. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, just know that after a third degree tear you have to be on laxatives as "You won't be able to physically do that yourself until it heals". Yeah, that wasn't great. So who knows what else would have happened if I'd been left another week? I love him but he messed me up for a while, through no fault of his own.

Now, I want to talk about how we feed our babies. Most of you will have seen my Facebook rant about how FED IS BEST and no parent should be guilt tripped on how they choose to feed THEIR baby. I feel so strongly that I really want to start a campaign for better support for bottle feeding parents - most Midwives and Health Visitors are, quite frankly, amazing people who fully inform bottle feeding mothers on the ins and outs (e.g. sterilising bottles and making up feeds) but unfortunately, in my personal experience of postnatal care, I didn't meet very many of them.

For context, as a previous Midwife I went into this knowing the benefits of breastfeeding for mum and baby - with this in mind I was adamant that I was going to breastfeed. I didn't for one second entertain the idea of bottle feeding - before Dylan was born we didn't even buy bottles or a steriliser because that's how sure I was. Turns out, radiotherapy completely fries your tit(s), who knew eh? It's not commonly documented as most people fighting breast cancer are post-menopausal and don't care about feeding babies, but those radiowaves sure do fry those mammory glands good. As a result I was left with a very hungry 4.3kg baby and only one boob to do the business. I won't bore you with the details but cut to him not sleeping ever as he was genuinely ravenous and me having a breakdown after a week (I'm talking inconsolably messy crying and declaring I'm the worst Mum of all time), Warren quite nicely suggested the idea of giving him a bottle. It's mad that even when I did I felt absolutely horrendous, formula is the next best thing but we're always made to feel like it's poison aren't we? Well I'm here to say that IT'S BLOODY WELL NOT POISON. It doesn't matter how we feed our babies, as long as we fecking feed them and shower them with all the love they deserve.

Sweary paragraph alert - but fuck the "breast is best" crew. Don't get me wrong, breastfeeding is hard - if you're a breastfeeder then it's a heartfelt well done from me, you are genuinely bloody awesome and I take my hat off to you. Be proud. You're awesome. But if you're a bottle feeder then just know that you're amazing too. Being a parent has so many other challenges that whatever feeding road you choose to travel, we're all just doing the best we can.

I feel like I've probably ranted enough for now. Please enjoy this photo of my milk guzzler/sleep thief at two months old:

I have to say that having a baby in lockdown isn't the greatest, we're surviving by sending the family Whatsapp photos of our growing munchkin but it's not quite the same is it? Shoutout to my Mum for dropping dinners round to ensure that we actually eat vegetables but I can see that she's desperate to grab him for a cuddle every time she does. Basically this is a plea for everyone to adhere to the rules so that Dylan can actually meet his family. One day it'll happen.

If you're not a parent, kudos to you my friend! Please enjoy your life of uninterrupted sleep and not having to stress about every noise a tiny person makes. Are they sick? Should I call a doctor? Or have they just discovered a new noise that they can make? Are they hungry? Have they pooped? The eternal questions NEVER END. Just revel in the fact that you can do whatever you want, whenever you want. But if you'd like to babysit my baby I'll happily let you, just so I can have THE LONGEST bath and drink ALL the wine. God I miss that.

That's me signing out for now.

Thanks for reading!

Love, Meg xx

P.S. Liking my story? Why not follow or subscribe by email below? I promise I won't bombard you with lots of blog posts, I'm strictly a every few weeks kinda gal.

Guess who's back? Back again...

Hello everyone! 

I'm aware I've been pretty absent and neglectful of this blog - it definitely doesn't deserve it as it helped me through the many crappy events of last year - but I hope you'll let me off as I have been super busy! With that in mind I have written this edition to elaborate on several of the FREAKING AWESOME things that have happened since my last post. You may want to make yourself a drink and get yourself cosy; we're going to be here for a while. Hey ho, let's go...

My Work Life
If my memory serves me right I believe that my last post was about leaving Midwifery and moving on to becoming a Library Assistant extraordinaire? Well, that happened. I've been at my library post for just over three months and I bloody well love it. I miss people I used to work with but not once have I missed actual Midwifery, so I'm pretty darn happy about that. Plus I now work with some of the most fantastic people that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting - very patient people who have answered my one billion, incredibly annoying, questions and have never once told me to go away. For this I have to say a huge thank you! One day I promise that I will become the World's Best Library Assistant, but for now I feel like my colleagues are mentally rolling their eyes when they see me heading their way - but thank you for not physically rolling them at me, it's much appreciated!
Midwifery - 0: Library Assistant - 1

My Personal Life
(Strap yourselves in everyone, this is where it get extra exciting *dramatic music*)
As of the 5th May 2018, I am now MARRIED! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh hdjflshfdshfdskhfskhdsjweljwkewjklejklwejewk *excited noises*
Here's an incredibly arty photo of me and my new husband, eeek!

All credit for how good we look definitely goes to my fantastic photographer Claire - www.artbyclairephotography.com

We genuinely had THE BEST time ever and have to say a huge thank you to all that came and celebrated with us, we hope you enjoyed it as much as we did - if I could relive any day of my life that would be the one for me (funnily enough, the day I got diagnosed with cancer wasn't in the running...) I have to also give a big shout-out to Nyssa, my absolutely lovely and brilliant make-up artist for the day. If you're reading this (and I hope you are) just know you are fantastic and I would definitely not have had the courage to go wig-less if you hadn't been there with your awesome cheerleader skills! If anyone is looking for a makeup artist for anything, ever, look her up please - www.nyssaaddison.co.uk - she'll not only do your make-up, she'll also make you feel like you are the most amazing human being that ever walked this earth.

What else to update you on? Oh yes, I can briefly summarise our honeymoon if you would like? It was Amazing - it 100% earned that capital A. Brief summary over. Here's a photo of Warren pretending he has the necessary skills to fly a helicopter:

That was a helicopter flight over the Grand Canyon FYI. It was insane! In the best way.

What's that? You would like an extended "brief summary" of the honeymoon? Your wish is my command, as they say:

• 7 night cruise from Miami with day trips to Mexico, Belize and Honduras = bloody brilliant.
• 5 night stay in The Mirage in Las Vegas with a Grand Canyon helicopter tour, a meal in the Eiffel Tower restaurant, Cirque Du Soleil show and the CSI experience = bloody brilliant.

So there you have it folks, it was bloody brilliant. It took up pretty much all of our holiday allowance for the year but it was definitely worth it. Plus a big thank you to Auntie Beth (haha!) for dog sitting, Toby just told me to tell you that he misses you!

SKINNY DIP

Yes, you read that correctly - SKINNY DIP! Last month me and my bestie for the restie, Faye, travelled to Wicklow in Ireland to partake in an attempt at the world's largest skinny dip. With 2,500 women we flipping smashed it (we had to beat 700) and are now very proud Guinness World Record holders! It was women only and I fully recommend it to any woman out there - it was the most empowering day and the nakedness was such a small part of it. I've never seen so many shapes and sizes - it was definitely a fantastic reminder that people rarely look like how the media tells us that we should. We're going back next year, feel free to tag along!

It is definitely a contender for the best weekend ever. We may have lost a dog - and potentially stole a dog - at our Air Bnb (quite a long story - just know that it had a happy outcome) but I would do the weekend over again in a heartbeat. Here's a photo of us pre skinny dip (on the wine and doing fine at 10am!):

Life Without Larry

So I feel that I need to talk about my life post-cancer and I apologise for that. If you would like to skip this section then I will in no way hold it against you, for those still with me please just know that it's a little bit of a Debbie Downer.

I'm going to 100% honest right now. Alright? Here goes:

I feel like people expect me to be over the fact that I have had cancer.

There, I said it.

I have to say that I'm definitely in a much better place than I was before, but I still think about it and worry about it multiple times a day. I'm not over it and I don't think that I ever will be. I have days when I can't do much except cry; they are thankfully rare but they do happen, so if I last-minute cancel plans with you it's probably due to that and not that I don't want to hang out with you. I also struggle to make long-term plans and life goals as I have a little voice in my head that informs me that I probably won't live as long as everyone else. Sad but true, I feel like my whole life is one big question mark. I told you it would be a Debbie Downer!

I know that people have incredibly busy lives and I'm fully aware that I don't have cancer anymore, but it's always there no matter what I do. It's like Larry vacated his squat but he still sends me regular postcards.

I'm truly sorry to be so honest but this blog was born out of the fact that I needed somewhere to vent, so that's what I've done. F**k you Larry.

Now, I feel like I can't leave you on a downer so I've selected lyrics from another song that helped me through my cancer treatment. The song is 'I Lived' by OneRepublic and if you feel a bit crap I recommend it. If you were at the wedding you may know it as it's the one that made Faye and I actually run to dance!

"I hope that you spend your days

But they all add up,

And when that sun goes down

Hope you raise your cup,

I wish that I could witness

All your joy and all your pain,

But until my moment comes

I'll say

I, I did it all,

I, I did it all,

I owned every second that this world could give,

I saw so many places, the things that I did,

Yeah with every broken bone,

I swear I lived."

Until next time, blog fans, I wish you all the health and happiness in the world.

Love, Meg xx

P.S. Liking my story? Why not follow or subscribe by email below? I promise I won't bombard you with lots of blog posts, I'm strictly a every few weeks kinda gal.

National Larry Removal Day

Why, hello there!

It's me! I'm back again! And I've got a little update for you all, which I'll come to in a little while. It's an area of my life not directly linked with cancer (who knew that I had any of those left, eh? Cancer is pretty damn life consuming!) but it's a big old change so hold on to your hats.

But first it appears that another Cancerversary™ has come and gone and I DIDN'T blog about it! Saaaaayyy whaaaat? This particular celebration should have taken place last Tuesday (13th Feb) when it was one whole year since my operation. RIP Larry the lump - you gave me pure hell but I gave it back and I won. So sayonara you lumpy jerk, it's been a whole year and I still don't miss you. Sometimes I miss who I used to be before I had to come to the pretty horrible realisation that nobody is immortal - especially not me. That feeling usually passes quite quickly, however, and is helped along when I remember how bloody proud of myself I am that I got through last year. So yeah, screw you Larry and screw the horse you rode in on.

My next Cancerversary™ isn't until the 18th April, when we will celebrate the anniversary of my PICC line insertion (and the end of the joy of having a bath), bet you can't wait for that one, amiright? Put it in your diaries, let's have a good old fashioned PICC party!

Now we move on to the update that I mentioned at the beginning - I'm incredibly nervous and full of stress to announce this but here goes - for the foreseeable future (and possibly forever) I am leaving Midwifery. Yes, you read that right - in the next few weeks I will cease to be working as a Midwife. It is a decision that has brought only relief and no regret at all - things haven't been the same since I went back and my priorities in life have changed a lot. I can no longer cope with the sheer amount of stress that I feel at work and I am constantly letting down my colleagues and the women in my care because I feel as though the stress stops me from doing my job properly. So to everyone I work with presently, and all those I used to work with, I want to say I huge thank you for all the love and support you have given me. I love you all. Keep on keeping on - you are all bloody amazing people who do bloody amazing jobs but I'm afraid it's last orders for me. I may return, who knows? But I need to take a break to work out what works for me.

What's next for me, I hear you ask? Well I am off to work at Watford central library, a fact that actually makes me incredibly happy. I always wanted to be a librarian when I was little and now my childhood dreams are coming true! Bring it on!

That's all from me team, I'm off to internet shop for some glasses and a pencil skirt - I'm going to rock this librarian look...

Love, Meg xx

P.S. Liking my story? Why not follow or subscribe by email below? I promise I won't bombard you with lots of blog posts, I'm strictly a every few weeks kinda gal.

More from me...

Hello again!

Now I know what you all must be thinking, something along the lines of "But she doesn't even have cancer anymore, why is she blogging still?" The cold, hard truth is that I love it too much to stop - so deal with it. It may possibly be because I love talking about myself but here we are. One of the many things cancer has made me realise is that I need to stop living my life as if I'm permanently apologising for existing. So I like blogging and I will continue to do it until I'm the only one reading my blogs - even then I'm still going to do it. OK? Glad we got that sorted.

First things first - a big MERRY CHRISTMAS to you all! Tis the season to be jolly and all that jazz, I hope Santa brings you all everything you wish for (if you've been good boys and girls obviously). Here's a little Christmas themed photo for you all:

Yes that is Warren and I, posing with Toby as if he was our child - I am fully unashamed of that fact. In fact, I'm so unashamed that I almost printed it and sent it as our Christmas card. Maybe next year?

Now for a few little updates in the (quite frankly thrilling) life of me. Firstly, not many people know but I had a scan booked in for a few weeks ago as I thought I had found another lump. As you can probably imagine it was a particularly nerve wracking time and brought back a few flashbacks of last January - something I'm not overly keen on reliving to be honest. I am happy to report that there is nothing to report, except for scar tissue which was the cause of the lumps and my teeter on the edge of a breakdown. So yay! Larry hasn't returned! I like to imagine that he's off on a beach somewhere living it up and has no desire to come back. Fingers crossed, right?

Next on the agenda: I have been back at work since November but have just finished my second week of doing actual clinical work - wahoo! I am doing a phased return so am currently only doing two short shifts a week but by the beginning of February I will be back to full time (and full normality!) again. It is at this point that I need to do a mahoosive shout-out to the bloody brilliant people that I work with - I was such a nervous wreck at the thought of coming back but you are all absolutely amazing people who have welcomed me back and made me feel massively loved; thank you for everything - from generally supporting me and putting up with my million student-esque questions to just telling me that my hair looked OK - I bloody love you! Don't go changing, team.

Thirdly, I can't let this blog publish without telling you about the time Faye (one of my besties and soon to be bridesmaid) and I met Greg James (yup, radio 1 Greg James). I entered a prize draw with Coppafeel (flipping amazing charity - check them out) and won tickets to an Oh Wonder gig (flipping amazing music - check them out) with Greg James. Such. A. Good. Night. Surreal, but good. Since having cancer I am trying to do (and plan) more exciting things and this definitely counts as one of those things. So Greg I'm pretty sure you'll never ever stumble across this blog but if you ever do then thank you.

A final update from me (and shameless plug, for which I apologise) is that I started a little Etsy shop. The main reason I chose to do this is because I did a lot of crochet throughout my treatment and have since come to the realisation that Warren isn't as obsessed with crochet as I am - funny that! So I would like to sell them to people that will love them as much as me. If you're interested, my little shop can be found at
https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/ScrambledMegCrafts/
Get involved!

That's all for now, folks. Hope you enjoyed my teeny tiny update and are still planning to continue reading future (just as exciting) updates - if you are then thank you. If you're not then thank you for sticking with me this far, I hope you live a long and happy life and never ever meet Larry or any of his friends.

Have a lovely Christmas everyone!

Love, Meg xx

P.S. Liking my story? Why not follow or subscribe by email below? I promise I won't bombard you with lots of blog posts, I'm strictly a every few weeks kinda gal.

Life goes on and on and on.

It's been a while, but I am back!

Now I am fully aware that I have gone a bit "off the radar" in terms of blog posts, but boy-oh-boy have I been busy! With lots of amazing stuff, plus a few crap times. So come with me now as I take you through the journey that has been the last month and a half in the life of me...

Firstly, we need to talk about radiotherapy. Mainly just to say that I kicked that bad boy in the butt! My last session was the 4th October and I cannot be happier to have finished. I do have to say a huge, well deserved THANK YOU to the team on machine LA9 at Mount Vernon - if you ever read this just know that you are truly fantastic people who made this very nervous person feel more than relaxed. Muchas gracias, bloody awesome team.

Here comes one of the crappy times though, unfortunately. After radiotherapy had finished, my body decided to let me down AGAIN (was cancer not enough, body? Eh?) and my skin in the area where I had radiotherapy broke down massively and incredibly painfully. I don't think you need me to tell you that it sucked and more tears were shed; I'm pretty sure I have cried so much throughout this whole ordeal that I should resemble a raisin. Luckily for me the GP gave me lots of dressings and it has now cleared up! Hurrah! So it was crap but now it is not! Story of my life I think?

I imagine that you want to know what I've done with myself since finishing treatment, right? Living it up is the answer pretty much. I've been to two incredibly beautiful weddings, for one of which I have to give a shout-out to my very lovely friend Julia for allowing me to have the privilege of being her bridesmaid. Love you Ju! Here's a photo (everyone loves a wedding photo, right?):

Doesn't she look beautiful? And my wig stayed on even though it was quite windy, so that is a triumphant win for me!
I've also been to a little festival with my besties which was organised by the charity Coppafeel (if you don't know them, please google them - and check your boobs ladies!) where I got winked at by Matt Willis and we met Lauren Laverne (who definitely isn't Sarah Cox, looking at you Lynzy!) in the toilets! Awesome times!
Finally (I know, I have been a little busy!) I went on an epic holiday to Devon with my close family and had the most amazing week. Cheers fam, you awesome people you. 
What's that you say? You wonder what my nieces and nephews look like now? Well wonder no longer, because I have a photo for you:

Here they are! Here's Hattie, Rory, Evie and Henry! A whole bundle of cute craziness and I wouldn't change any of them for the world.

So, all in all, it's been a pretty spectacular month. However the time has come for me to go back to work and I have a meeting next week to sort out how that is going to go down; if any of my work colleagues are reading this then I will see you soon! I'm split about going back though; half of me craves the normality and the other half is addicted to daytime TV. Unfortunately watching Loose Women doesn't pay my bills, so the normality half wins. Wish me luck!

Finally, a little hair update for you all - it's growing back!! For my head, eyebrows and eyelashes this is awesome news, however for the rest of my body this is not quite so welcome. Also, my hair missed me so much apparently that it has decided to grow back with A VENGEANCE; I know you don't really want this image but I'm now halfway to becoming an actual gorilla. On the plus side, at least it is winter and the extra layer will keep me nice and toasty. Everything has a bright side, amiright?

In view of this hair miracle I have also now decided to go sans wig (except for incredibly special occasions). To get you all prepared, here is a heavily filtered photo of my current look:

I know right? Three photos in one blog post? Insanity! Also please ignore the red line on my fivehead - I had been wearing my wig that day and it loves to leave a mark, that is just one of the many reasons why I've decided to ditch it. So that's my face and head (and ears!!) - deal with it, ok? I know I have.

So Meg out for now team. I will update you with my transition into normal, post-cancer life soon, I promise to keep writing if you promise to keep reading. Also, if you'll allow me a little self-congratulatory moment, I have battled cancer and I bloody well won! I've been so busy jumping from one treatment stage to the other that I've never appreciated that fact. I am fecking awesome!

Peace out, blog fans.

Love, Meg xx

P.S. Liking my story? Why not follow or subscribe by email below? I promise I won't bombard you with lots of blog posts, I'm strictly a every few weeks kinda gal.

Holy Chemo-ly!

It's a big, awesome update today blog fans!

Wowsers - it has been well over a month since my last post! Sorry about that avid readers out there but worry not as I have many updates for you today. Strap yourself in, it's about to go down.

Update number one and possibly the most important thing in my cancer journey so far: I HAVE ONLY GONE AND FLIPPING FINISHED CHEMOTHERAPY! I'm currently doing a small 'happy dance' as I type (and shout) that. My final dose was last Wednesday and I really wanted to post and update you all earlier but unfortunately the side-effects decided they weren't leaving without a bang; cue every single side-effect I've ever mentioned/struggled with appearing all on the same day and refusing to leave. Like socially awkward party guests they're still here but are slowly getting the hint that it's time to head home; if I could turn all the lights off and get them out sooner I totally would. The only thing keeping me sane is the thought that once they're gone, THEY'RE GONE. Finito. Never to ever appear again. I can't really remember what it was like when I felt 'normal' but I cannot wait for that day! Chemotherapy please consider yourself beaten, I owned you like a boss.

Although I have to say that my body didn't make my final dose easy, on the Monday prior to chemo I had my standard blood tests and found out that my pesky white blood cells were too low to even have the final dose. We rocked up on Wednesday as planned and they repeated the blood tests again, we then patiently waited to see if chemo would go ahead or be postponed by a week (Longest. Twenty. Minutes. Ever.) Luckily those little buggers had got their act together and multiplied to a good level (much appreciation for those little guys) so now here we are! I have to say I don't think the nurse was quite prepared for my ecstatic response when she told me that I would be having chemotherapy that day - I almost hugged her but then I quickly remembered I don't really like physical contact so I controlled myself. It was close though.

Here's a collage that I made of my time in the chemo suite:

Me and my many chins give Mount Vernon Chemotherapy Suite a big 'thumbs up'. Five stars but unfortunately I wouldn't go again.

"So Meg, is your cancer journey over now?" I hear you all ask? Unfortunately not team, now I'm moving on to the joy that is radiotherapy. Radiotherapy is where high-energy radiation is fired specifically at the site that Larry so recently vacated. I am scheduled for 18 doses in total, which means that, from 11th September, every day (Mon-Fri) for three and a half weeks I will pop over to Mount Vernon to be blasted with radiation for a few minutes. What a life! The plus side is that there are less side effects in comparison to the beast that is chemotherapy so I'm all over it like a rash.

Speaking of radiotherapy, today I went for my pre-radiotherapy planning appointment. This is a posh way of saying that I laid topless on a bench, had a little scan and then got tattooed (yes, you read that right - tattooed) with three little dots on my chest so that they know where to position the machine each day. That is one tattoo that I'm not overly keen on showing off, let me tell you. Also, I can now add three more to the list of people that have seen my boobs - it's almost getting to the point that I'd happily show anyone if they asked nicely enough. It's funny how matter of fact you become about showing people your boobs when you've had to whip your top off many many times! Page 3 here I come.

I have just realised that I have gone this long without updating you all on one thing that I am more than over the moon about - after my last chemotherapy dose they took out my PICC line which meant that I HAD MY LONG-AWAITED, MUCH-ANTICIPATED BATH! There's a lot of shouting in this blog today isn't there? I am unapologetic about that though, these awesome things definitely deserve it. Here's a photo of that epic moment for you all:

So. Many. Bubbles. And. So. Much. Awesomeness. I didn't want to leave and I've never seen my fingers so wrinkly than when I eventually dragged myself out. That definitely wins the best bath of all time award, I've only showered since as I'm worried my next bath will be a bit anticlimactic. We shall see. Also, those are my knees and not really pointy boobs. Having Larry the lump removed back in February means that unfortunately my boobs will never look like that, so I promise you that those are knees. 

For now I think those are all the updates I've got for you, I'm waiting for my hair to grow back and am a little bit excited to see it again. It's only been one week since my last dose, and I know that it can take a month or more, but every morning I find myself holding my breath and cautiously inspecting my head. It's like a long-lost friend returning, although if my body hair would like to stay away forever then I can't say I'll be upset. Yay to head, eyebrow and eyelash hair returning but boo to everything else.

So that's it for today team, thanks for tuning in everyone. Hopefully my chemo side-effects sod off, it's my birthday in two days and I really hope they're not holding out to join the celebration. I bet they are, the cheeky little sods.

Love, Meg xx

P.S. Liking my story? Why not follow or subscribe by email below? I promise I won't bombard you with lots of blog posts, I'm strictly a every few weeks kinda gal.

Meme me up.

So as you may have guessed from the title and what is possibly one of my favourite memes around:

 I AM OFFICIALLY HALFWAY THROUGH CHEMOTHERAPY!! 

If you read that and envisioned me shouting it then you would be correct; I just yelled it at my dog, who is now looking at me with a mix of confusion and pity. Totally worth it. This time in seven weeks (cheeky white blood cell count permitting) I will have received my final dose of chemotherapy and will be patiently waiting for my hair to grow back. There is a little question mark over what happens after chemotherapy (which I will briefly explain to you all next - stay tuned!) but meh to all of that because I hate chemo and I don't care who knows it. Plus I am slightly obsessed with the idea of having a bubble bath, currently I am unable to do that because of my PICC line - first world problems, amirite? So if anyone wants to throw me an impromptu "Halfway through chemo" party then I am totally down, just don't make it a surprise so that I make sure I have one of my wigs on at the time. OK?

Now for a brief explanation of the whole post-chemo plan - previously I was all set to have radiotherapy; this involves a whole load of high-energy waves directed at the specific spot (that Larry so recently kindly vacated) every day for two and a half weeks. Recently, however, I had an appointment with the genetics team as everyone I've met is pretty much shaking their heads and wondering how a 27-year-old with minimal family history got cancer. I wish I could help, but I'm just as confused as them to be honest. At my genetics appointment they explained that I am now being tested for three specific gene mutations; I won't bore you with the technical details but in a nutshell finding these mutations in me could either mean that I'm at a high risk of getting breast cancer again or I'm at a high risk of basically having any soft-tissue cancer in the future (depending on if and which specific mutation they identify). Does that make sense? If not tough, I can't think of an easier explanation. 

What that means in terms of the plan is that if any mutations are found they will offer me a full mastectomy (read total boob lop-off job) in order to completely minimise the breast cancer recurrence risk; I'm putting it out there now that if they offer it to me I will take it. Me and my boobs aren't great friends at the minute and you know what? I'd rather stay alive. Plus I will be looking forward to the completely awesome tattoo I will get where those bad boys used to be, so onwards and upwards I guess. On the flip side, if nothing is found then we will carry on with the radiotherapy as planned, meaning I will and forevermore have very wonkily-sized boobs. I'm getting a tattoo either way though, just try and stop me Mum.

That's pretty much all my cancer updates for now. My hair is still falling out like it's abandoning a sinking ship, chemo still sucks and people are still 100% awesome. Although, on a non-cancer related subject (I know right? There apparently is more to my life than cancer! I don't believe it either) Warren and I have booked most of our honeymoon! We're cruising the Caribbean for a bit (my choice) and then heading to Vegas for the rest (Warren's choice) - if you know Warren then you probably wouldn't have bet on us not going to Vegas to be honest. So basically let's get this wedding over so that I can go on my Honeymoon!*

*Massive joke - I'm also super excited about the wedding too.

Until next time, blog fans!

Love, Meg xx

P.S. Liking my story? Why not follow or subscribe by email below? I promise I won't bombard you with lots of blog posts, I'm strictly a every few weeks kinda gal.

Let's talk about eggs, baby...

Welcome back!

Now I know you've all been anxiously checking my blog to see if I have posted another thrilling update on the medical journal that is my life - well congratulations! Today is that day! Make yourselves comfy (and maybe pour yourselves a drink) because you're in for a pretty long tale...

Last time I posted I was midway through my injections and scans, which feels like a hundred years ago now, this post is to tell you all that we have now gone through the whole fertility journey and out the other side. Phew! It has been an extremely long and emotional ride, one which I will try to summarise for you on a day-by-day basis, here goes:

Monday
This was the big, long-awaited 'egg collection' day. At 8.45am we rocked up to the fertility clinic in St Paul's (London, if anyone reading this isn't from the UK - in which case a big hello to you wherever you are, I hope the weather's lovely). Now, I really don't want to tell you in detail how eggs are harvested; it is a particularly 'intimate' procedure and I don't really want you to have to picture it. You're welcome. If you desperately want to know then here's a copy and pasted version from the 'Egg Donor Information Project' website (https://web.stanford.edu/class/siw198q/websites/eggdonor/procedures.html):

"Eggs are retrieved from the donor through transvaginal ultrasound aspiration, a surgical procedure performed under conscious sedation. (See figure below). Using a tube attached to an ultrasound probe, a physician guides a suctioning needle into each ovary and removes mature oocytes from the follicles."

There you go, I couldn't have put it better myself. From my perspective all I know is that I went to the operating theatre, had a truly awesome nap and when I woke up I was missing some eggs. Eight eggs to be exact. I don't know if that is a good number and to be honest I don't care if it wasn't, that was just how many they harvested. Then we went home. 
And that concludes Monday's adventure.

Tuesday
On this day I received a phone-call to tell me how the fertilisation of my eggs was coming along. I'm warning you now, this was a bad day.
Apparently my eggs had already started to show cells dividing; I'm sure that you think, as I also thought - "Well that's great news, right?" Wrong. It was then explained to me that this doesn't normally happen until day 2, if it happens on day 1 then often it means that they are abnormal or unlikely to get to the stage where they are able to be frozen. So in summary, I potentially would have zero embryos in their giant freezer. Needless to say, many tears were shed that day. The clinic said they would 'sit' on my embryos for a few days before discarding them, just in case. That's nice of them, isn't it?

Thursday
Another phone-call today, for someone who hates talking on the phone this week has been particularly taxing! During this particular call I was informed that four of my eight embryos actually appeared to be doing what they were meant to (finally!) and two of them looked very likely to be able to be frozen on day 5. Now I know that doesn't sound like many but as I was expecting to be told that they'd all have to be disposed of this was good news. No tears were shed this day, which was pretty good as the crying stuff was starting to make me a bit dehydrated if I'm honest.

Today 
Apologies for the long story, it's coming to an end I promise! Today I received a final phone-call letting me know that out of the four promising-ish embryos, they were able to freeze two. I feel like I should be highly disappointed about this outcome but weirdly I feel super relieved that it's over and I have anything in the freezer at all. That's enough embryos for one transfer cycle, so for now that's enough. I may not need them at all (which would be amazing) but they are there just in case. If it's meant to be it will happen, right?

There ends my fertility clinic journey (hopefully forever, but who knows?) next step - chemotherapy. It just keeps getting better and better! My first dose is scheduled for the 19th April, so a week on Wednesday. Again, instead of being worried I've surprised myself by just being relieved that's it's starting. The quicker it starts then the quicker it ends and I for one cannot wait to see what I look like with a shiny, bald head. That's a joke, I'm currently having daily pep talks with my hair and begging it not to leave me!

So in summary, I would make a terrible chicken. In fact, I probably would be the kind of chicken that graces your dinner table rather than sits there laying eggs. Lucky old me!

Tune in next time for the not depressing at all update about chemotherapy. I promise to be cheerful if you promise to read it. Deal?

Love, Meg xx

P.S. Liking my story? Why not follow or subscribe by email below? I promise I won't bombard you with lots of blog posts, I'm strictly a every few weeks kinda gal.

The moment we've all been waiting for.

Good news!

Today I had my follow up appointment at the clinic and received the news we've all been waiting for (*spoiler alert* it's bloody awesome news):

LARRY HAS WELL AND TRULY SODDED OFF! ACTUALLY WELL. AND. TRULY.

I'm writing that in capitals because I would really love to shout it, in fact I might do just that. Goodbye Larry! Ciao! Adiós! Arrivederci! Auf wiedersehen! Sayonara! Aloha (the goodbye version of aloha obviously) - and don't come back! Big thanks to Google translate for those.

Plus, remember those pesky lymph nodes? I personally remember as thanks to those bad boys I am rocking two beautiful scars instead of one. Well, it appears that they disliked Larry too and declined his invite to the cancer party. That's right! No cancer in my lymph nodes, which means at this exact moment in time (and hopefully forevermore) I am cancer free.

Now, before you all rush round my house and throw me a big surprise party (which you're totally welcome to do - just not tonight, I'm busy tonight) there is a little bit extra to inform you all; they have decided that because I am a 27 year old, (reasonably) healthy woman with minimal family history it is still recommended that I have chemotherapy and radiotherapy. Which means I need to go down the whole fertility clinic, egg harvesting thing first too. So we're not out of the woods yet team, I'm still playing (and winning) cancer treatment bingo, and I for one cannot wait for my prize - in fact, if it's that I come out the other end with all my hair still on my head then that is enough for me! Not my leg hair though, I could do without shaving for a while.

In summary - lots of yay, some meh. As Bon Jovi very eloquently put it:

"Hey, man, I'm alive. I'm takin' each day and night at a time...

...I'm feeling like a Monday but someday I'll be Saturday night."

I hope you all are feeling the Saturday night vibes though, hopefully I'll be joining you soon.

Love, Meg xx

P.S. Liking my story? Why not follow or subscribe by email below? I promise I won't bombard you with lots of blog posts, I'm strictly a every few weeks kinda gal.