Today was pre-op day, for the first operation of 2021. Already not the only operation this year!
Why is it that when they ask about my weight, I always feel the need to justify it, such as “Oh I ate a lot for Christmas, ho ho”. I’m sure there is an actual medical reason why they need to know, but it fills me with dread. As if this is it. Before this question, I was not overweight, but now the cat is out of the bag and everyone knows. And probably thinking there is no way I put on 3 stone since 24 December…
Lets have some needling
After the pre-op, I went for my first physio/acupuncture appointment. Alan, my oncologist (you remember him, right?) thought it would be a good option to help deal with the joyful symptoms of letrozole. I had spoken to Bob (not real name) before Christmas so it was a quick catch up and form filling. It makes me giggle when they ask for a brief history. How can you make 16 years brief? But try I do.
Boom!
Not treated equal
Physical ailments are always taken at face value. You have breast cancer – you have sympathy and understanding. Unless your treatment is continuing, there is an assumption that once the treatment is over, your journey is over. You are cured and can now go back to life as it was before.
And the first time round I did. After a year off I went back to work. At the time it felt a bit too soon but I had no “reason” to continue to be off.
I wish this was the case this time. I do. But it’s not. As well as having other physical issues to deal with, my mental health is the worst it has ever been.
I have been depressed before.
Following my breast cancer #1, I was depressed, seeing a psychiatrist and was on medication.
Similarly, I was depressed when my mum died and when my dad died.
