A while back I posted about the De Quervain's Tenosynovitis in my left hand caused by lifting a heavy-ish case on and off trains and dragging it along streets one handed.  Well, about six weeks and a course of physio later it hasn't resolved itself, so today I've been referred on to a specialist physio who will inject it with steroids, wait two or three weeks and then start me on an exercise regime!  Let's hope that works, as the alternative after that is surgery...

So, now I have a daily routine of arm/shoulder exercises for my right side and thumb/wrist exercises for my left side.  I am not meant to lift anything over 5kg on the right and can't lift anything over about 2kg on the left.  Writing is painful (so 'don't do it' said the physio) and every now and then I'll subconsciously do something that makes my wrist really hurt.

This is, ultimately, an unexpected and unpredicted side effect of the treatment I've had... I am led to believe some of the drugs leave muscles and tendons more vulnerable to strains and sprains, and I've been so good at protecting my 'at risk of lymphoedema' arm that I've hurt my 'good' arm.

I'm not quite sure what this teaches me, other than that I'm not the free spirit I was a little over a year ago, able to hurl chairs and tables around rooms and hoik objects around quite happily.  Of course it does force me to be more empathic with other people with physical restrictions, which is no bad thing, but I really don't like it much!  Still, if that's all I have to worry about I ought to be grateful.

Sometimes it feels as if I open my mouth only to change feet... today is one such day.

No details. 

Just letting you know I'm human and very fallible.  It's called part of being honest.

Groan if you must, but this is the day to focus on the people whose breast cancer has spread beyond their breast/axillary lymph nodes and has invaded other parts of their bodies.  Whilst it is no respecter of age, it does sometimes seem as if a disproportionate number of younger women with more aggressive cancers are often diagnosed very quickly with secondaries, often only weeks after a primary diagnosis and, sometimes, without one.  Secondary breast cancer can occur pretty well anywhere, but the most common metastases seem to be in the bones, lungs, liver and brain.  Some people also get them in their uterus, ovaries or skin.  Once cancer metastasises it cannot be 'cured.'  It can be controlled, sometimes very successfully, sometimes for many years, but in the end it will claim the life of the person who has it.

Suffice to say, symptoms of secondary cancer are vague and general, and people like me who are NED are prone to paranoia about every ache and pain, every persistent cough, every fluctuation in weight.  There is a broad rule of thumb that says 'if it lasts more than two weeks' and/or 'if it's a kind of pain/cough/ache that feels different for you' then shout.

Anyway, two things...

Firstly if you are someone who has had cancer (of any sort) and you notice any of these persistent symptoms, then shout.  If you're someone who hasn't had cancer and have symptoms that persist then get them checked out too - they're most probably not cancer and can be fixed/addressed relatively simply.  I know, nag, nag, nag.

Secondly, I have already lost friends and contacts to secondary breast (and other) cancer, and so have many of you.  If you can, spare a thought for those people who live daily with the knowledge that they cannot be cured and that one day - they know not when - they will hear the words "I'm sorry...."

Today I'm remembering Cat (RIP), and thinking of Annie and J each of whom inspires me with her courage and tenacity.

Very recently BUGB published this little book, and my copy arrived last week.  I have only just got around to opening it and have yet to read it properly.  However, I flicked through and found a number of interesting appendices written by people I know.

And there it was, on pages 69-70, a quotation from one Catriona Gordon (sic) the first woman minister in sole pastoral charge of a Baptist church in Scotland.  I had long forgotten being asked to write this stuff - it was more than two years ago, because I recall having to update it after the call to move north came.  It's nice to be part of the 'official' story, part of the history... just hope if they go to a reprint at some future date they'll spell my name correctly!!

Who knows just what interesting variants may occur in the far distant future once I'm not there to spot them!!

Having just sneezed, and hoping I'm not getting a cold, I found myself realising how different things are this year than last:

• That I was safe to travel on trains for substantial distances this weekend, to see people who have been exposed to different viruses and bacteria than I have.
• That a cold is just a cold not a life-threatening illness
• That having a flu jab (jag) this afternoon is merely a wise precaution not a potential life saver (well, it is, but not in the same way as last year); and that I don't have to time it to a 'good' week blood-wise
• That I am able to be in crowds of people and not worry if any of them sniff, sneeze or cough (though I still wish they'd cover their mouths/noses!).

This time last year I was just getting on with what I had to get on with... I certainly didn't obssess over the possibility that a cold could kill me... but it's so much nicer that this year a cold becomes what it ought to be, an unwlecome intrusion in an otherwise healthy life.