Astonished, Amazed, Outstanding: Is It Positive or Negative?

The thought process for this post started when the lovely Seaneen posted a comment stating “lady, you astonish me” on a couple of posts ago.
Since then a lot of people have said either that I amaze and astonish them for being able to deal with the primary and secondary cancers as well as coming to terms with being bipolar. The thing is I’m not really coping with it, in fact I’m not really coping with anything anymore. I’ve just finished one cycle of chemo and a session of radiotherapy. I cried throughout both of them.

Another comment read that surely because I’ve attempted suicide so often then dying from cancer should be a relief to me. The thing is feeling suicidal and acting on those plans from your mental turmoil is a very different from living a life that may be cut short at 23 or 24.

Dr Mc is worried about me. We have been exchanging emails all week and yesterday he decided to prescribe olanzapine alongside all my other meds. Frankly I don’t care about the weight gain at the moment, I’ve got bigger fish to fry. Well, I say that but of cause I am terrified but am trying to push it to the back of my mind whilst I process the cancer issue in my very small brain.

I am going to see a good friend of mine tomorrow and have coffee and lunch. This is the first time my parents have let me out of the house on my own (except for when I sneaked out when I was manic and crashed my car) since the middle of December when I was admitted. At first my Mum wasn’t going to let me go as one of the suicide attempts happened when I said I was visiting a friend and I ended up at Beachy Head.

I have a morbid fascination with Beachy Head. I love the views out to the Channel and the wind that blows all the cobwebs away, but also there is that deadly feel to it. The people who have had the courage to jump – who have died or been paralysed or who have survived without a scratch. Then there are the people like me who have stood on the edge edging closer and closer to falling off or waiting for the cliff to collapse beneath out feet and then get manhandled off by the police or chaplaincy team to end up either sectioned and taken to A&E/a police cell and/or taken to a psych unit or those who are assessed and deemed mentally fit. Then there are those who arrive at the scene and drive off again not sure why they are there and if they really do feel suicidal. It is one of the most beautiful places I know tinged with the undertones of tiredness, sadness, desperation and mourning.

As for the title, I am not sure if being called all those things is good. Is it because I am coping? Is it because people want me to feel better? Or is it because I have the reverse Midas touch.
Answers on a postcard or in the comments as usual.

Ruth

What Goes Up Must Come Up: How My World Has Been Torn Apart

Firstly the title of the post relates to my mood, after an episode of mania I have fallen with a bang back into a depression. However, this hasn’t happened because of some chemical in my brain or because I stopped taking my meds for a bit. It has happened because of circumstances and 3 words my consultant said to me earlier this week.

Those three words were “it has spread”, of course this relates to the cancer. I have gone from being in remission and the future looking rosy to the cancer metastasising into my lungs. Lung cancer has one of the lowest survival rates, after breast cancer, of all the cancers. As my friend put it, “chemo will basically just be extending your life” and “it’s a good job you’ve given up smoking”. This friend has a black sense of humour at times. I hope that more chemo will achieve more than postponing the inevitable but deep down in my heart of hearts I think I already know the outcome.

The lungs is one of the first places bone cancers spreads to. I have been lucky for it not to have spread before. Doctors have been keeping an eye on me but I went to the GP with a nasty cough which I thought was just a chest infection as I have had a cold and he sent me for an immediate chest x-ray at the Chelsea & Westminster. From there they rang my consultant and he saw me that afternoon.

I start more chemo on Wednesday and radiotherapy for my leg. They may be able to conduct radiotherapy on my right lung (the cancer is only a stage 1) and there is always the possibility of surgery down the line.

Whilst the rug has been pulled under my feet I have rung the crisis team until I can get hold of Allison tomorrow. They have been helpful and caring to say the least. Someone came out to see me yesterday as I couldn’t stop crying down the phone and was in absolute hysterics. I see Dr Mc (my psych) and my GP again tomorrow and then Allison and my therapist on Tuesday. I am glad the mental health support is there because the way I feel rght now I could cheerfully do what the cancer might do right now.

My sister has flown over from Gibraltar to be with me and I am to be admitted to a world class hospital, the Royal Marsden, everyone is caring and supportive.

But for now my world is still shattered.

Ruth

Victim, Sufferer, Survivor, Genius: The Worries of Mania

First of all an apology for not updating earlier. What with being in hospital for 8 weeks and then cancer op I have sort of hidden myself away and become a recluse. I have also been living downstairs where the WiFi access is shit.

Anyway, I’ve been in hospital again. Friday and Saturday night for being manic. My Mum rang my psych on Thursday after I had applied for another debit and credit card, spent £250 on clothes (it was in Selfridges) and crashed my car after my reckless driving. My psych saw me on Friday and admitted me.

Since Friday I have had my anti-depressant level cut as it was recently raised, and they think might have been the trigger. I have had the anti-psychotic increased after seeing my dead cat walk around for most of the week and I am on haliperidol to try and quieten me down.

Being back in hospital was odd. I saw people who were still there. I saw the people who had been in years and ones who had been in months and then new people. I felt a fraud as if I didn’t deserve to be in there despite the fact I was flying around the ceiling and bouncing off the walls. I had to be sedated on Friday night as at 5am I was still awake. Last night I spent the entire night awake, talking to one of the HCAs who was lovely when I was in. In some ways I wanted to be back in there all nicely cocooned and protected from the outside world, not having to face up to what damage I have caused, but then I knew that was wishful thinking.

Thanks to the full blown mania and psychotic symptoms I have now been elevated to Bipolar I. I’m not happy about this as hypomania was bad enough but if they’re going to hospitalise for both mania and depression, I don’t know how I’ll get anything done. I see Allison, my CPN on Tuesday. Although I was in a private hospital (The Priory) I still kept in touch with the CMHT at my psychiatrist’s request. Indeed the weekend after I was discharged the crisis team rang to check how I was. I think they are feeling guilty after I told the duty CPN I saw in December that I was suicidal and what my plan was and she just said I didn’t mean it and she’d see me tomorrow. 5 hours later I was unconscious and in A&E because I’d put the plan into place. What I didn’t realise what the nurse I was speaking to was the one who told me I wasn’t unwell after my first 2 suicide attempts. I didn’t put Catherine on the end of the phone and Catherine at the end of the dining room table together fast enough.

I have the beginnings of a cold which means I probably won’t be able to start the final chemo regime on Thursday, but then my consultant did mention something about 2 sessions of radiography which is less painful and has fewer side effects, apparently. I don’t know but I’ll be glad when I’m out of plaster and in remission and all this head and body is sorted.

Ruth