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Your Health
By Iris Winston
A Cancer Diary
Part 2: Taking it one stage at a time
Iris Winston was diagnosed with breast cancer in
October 2007. Sharing her experiences and thoughts
is intended to help others dealing with similar problems.
Part 1 of her diary, from diagnosis to surgery,
appeared in the previous issue of Fifty-Five Plus.
October 18, 2007
I wake slowly in the recovery room. Several other
patients are in the same condition.A nurse checks on each
of us regularly.I struggle to pay attention — a little difficult,
as I am full of painkillers.After a while, maybe two or three
hours, I drink some juice.Then, I have a cup of tea and four
arrowroot cookies. It feels like a feast.
My surgeon visits me briefly to tell me that the surgery
went well.
A little while longer, then the nurse helps me on with
my sweatsuit, cape and shoes and wheels me to the front
entrance,where my friend is waiting to drive me home.Still
in something of a haze, I am back in my own bed minutes
after entering the house. My dogs park themselves on
either side of the bed and one of my cats curls up on my
shoulder. I know that my animals are going to have a big
effect on my recovery. My husband prepares scrambled
eggs and toast.The home-visit nurse arrives to check on me
and the phone starts ringing. I talk to my children and one
or two of my friends before falling asleep.
October 19, 2007
I wake up feeling much better than I expected. As I
have to keep my dressing dry, I cannot shower, but I can
have a “birdbath” of water in the tub and sponge-bath my
upper body. I dry shampoo my hair, spray on a little perfume
and feel almost human.
Friends arrive to walk the dogs. Friends arrive with
food. I am showered with get-well cards and flowers. My
kids and several of my friends phone to check on my
progress.I feel loved.This kind of caring gives you strength.
I am definitely on the road to recovery.
I start the hand and arm exercises described in my
July/August 2008 • 63 • Fifty-Five Plus Magazine
information booklet. It is important to keep moving and
stop fluid accumulating in the wrong places.
October 20, 2007
The same bath routine today, but this time I also wash
my hair in the sink with my regular shampoo. I manage to
use the curling iron. A little pre-operation research taught
me that this is a job you cannot do one-handed, but now I
can lift my right hand again, though it still hurts to do it.
October 21, 2007
Doing something new every day makes me feel that I
will be back to normal soon.Today, my husband drives me
to an off-leash park, so that I can walk with my dogs. Bright
sunshine, the wind blowing through my hair and the dogs
having a great time running across the fields are a recipe
for a good day.
October 22, 2007
I am amused by a front-page story in today’s Ottawa
Citizen reporting that a University of Pennsylvania study
refutes the notion that a positive attitude lengthens cancer
patients’ lives. I have to write a response.
October 23, 2007
The day begins with a plus. My visiting nurse removes
my drain. I no longer have to wander around with a tube
and bag.This is definitely a step towards normality. But, my
nurse also warns me that I will probably feel rocky for the
rest of the day. She is right.And the caseworker, who makes
her first (I hope only) visit today, plies me with too much
information, assuring me that “they make lovely wigs now.”
At this point, I do not know whether or not I will have
to have chemotherapy. Let me get through this one stage at
a time, please.
October 24, 2007
I am much better today. I work at the required exercises.I
am now on phase 2 — the post-drain set.I push myself,