Hair growth after chemo

I never really paid attention to THE PINK RIBBON, that is until I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I remember so well feeling like THE PINK RIBBON didn’t represent me. And then feeling kind of guilty because, after all, I was now part of that group of women who under the umbrella of THE PINK RIBBON were breast cancer victims, breast cancer patients, breast cancer survivors…

To me, breast cancer was many things, but it definitely was not a pink ribbon. Breast cancer was an operation to remove my tumor. Breast cancer was tests to see if the bastard had metastised. Breast cancer was putting my life, as I knew it and planned it, on hold. Breast cancer was trying lots of different haircuts before shaving my hair. Breast cancer was doing 6 chemo sessions. Breast cancer was losing my hair. Breast cancer was feeling sick and nauseous. Breast cancer was vomiting. Breast cancer was wearing wigs. Breast cancer was going out on drunken London nights, and returning for a few hours to just being a 30 year old woman. Breast cancer was Sex and the City binges. Breast cancer was radiotherapy sessions. Breast cancer was hearing meaningless percentages about survival rates. Breast cancer was wondering if I was going to die. Breast cancer was wondering if I was gonna live. Breast cancer was thinking “Why me?”. Breast cancer was freezing embryos, with sperm bought in Denmark, in case my fertility was affected. Breast cancer was waiting for my hair to grow back once it was all over. Breast cancer was endless hospital visits, checks and tests for years. Breast cancer was a sigh of relief every time the results came back ok, clear, fine. 

Breast cancer was all of these things and more. But it was never a PINK RIBBON. And as time went on I started hearing critical public voices, that made me realise I was not alone in not feeling represented by THE PINK RIBBON. The sexualisation of it all, I mean, colon cancer is not as a attractive as breasts, right? The capitalisation of it all, with pink products (GHD hair straighteners, Vans trainers…you name it). Pinkwashing they call it. 

And while I understand some people find solace in THE PINK RIBBON, if we want to support breast cancer research we can directly donate to a charity, a foundation or a programme. We do not need to buy something pink. Because remember, breast cancer is not necessarily a PINK RIBBON. 

On a day like this 5 years ago it was a Wednesday not a Tuesday. I was probably drinking coffee not an oat milk chai. I was living in London, not Barcelona. And I was going for an appointment at the hospital not to work, unlike today. 5 years ago, in a small room in hospital in East London, Ms. C broke the news that I had indeed breast cancer. I was there with Nick, my ex-boyfriend and Fausto, my best friend. The breast cancer nurse, whose name scapes me now, was present too.

A few months ago, I was going through papers and found the letter that Ms. C sent to my doctor, the general practitioner I went to first so she could have a look at THE lump. This is what she wrote…

“Dear Dr. D

I saw Ms Panades today after our brest multidisciplinary team meeting this morning.

Unfortunately I had to give her the bad news that the lump in the left breast is confirmed as breast cancer – C5 with malignant cells on cytology and core biposy grade III infiltrating ductal carcinoma- The axilla lymph node looked abnormal on ultrasound scan and the cytology report confirmed metastatic involvement (C5).

At the present moment the lump is about two-cm clinically and on ultrasonographic measurements. She is young with relatively dense breasts and we wait MRI scan for a more accurate measurement and to see whether any other focus elsewhere.

Because of the C5 grade in metastatic lymph node, I have arranged staging investigations – including bone scan and CT chest/abdomen – which will be done this coming Friday (8^th= and Monday (11^th). We will then re discuss staging investigation and MRI result in the next breast multidisciplinary team meeting (13^th) and Ms P will be see in clinic that afternoon. Temporarily, we may be able to five her a space on out operative day 21^st May.

Ms P asked that if it is only a two-cm grade III cancer with modal involvement what treatment? We would be able to offer breast conservation surgery with axillary clearance- As it is a grade II node positive cancer and she is relatively young chemo/radiotherapy would be required but we will await hormonal and Herceptin status o see whether she is suitable dor adkvant ormonal or Heceptin therapies. He wanted to discuss fertility issue so I will refer her to our gynecologist.

Ms P is still in a dilemma about what to do and whether to have the treatment in London or Barcelona. She has just split with her partner who she used to live with several years, her parents undergoing divorce with the house up for sale and, unfortunately, her grandmother has just passed away. Presently, her employer may not allow paid sick leave but she will sort this out and let us know o her social circumstances next week. On further questioning, shy says one of her aunts (?) likely womb cancer in her forties and her brother testicular cancer and treatment at the age of thirty-two. There is no breast cancer or definitive ovarian cancer otherwise.

Ms Panades is still relatively young and may think about genetic testing. However, at this current stage, there is too much on board for her and she want to concentrate on the cancer treatment first-

I will keep you informed of the outcome from our next MDM discussion and management.

Yours sincerely,

Ms C.”

I am happy that 5 years on I am still here to read this letter, to realise how much good has happened since then and to look forward to the time ahead of me.

Yours sincerely,

Ms Panades

Last Friday was my 34th birthday. As years pass and I move further away from my diagnosis and closer to the 5 year post-breast cancer date, my birthday takes a whole new meaning. I am filled with happines, thrilled at the realisation that “hey, I am still here”! I feel I do not have the luxury of fearing getting old. After cancer my fear is NOT getting old. So I celebrated over four days. On thursday night my boyfriend Raoul took me to see a brilliant play. On friday I spent the morning with our dog Aby and went to the beach for a run. By lunchtime Raoul was back from work and we went to one of our favourite cafe for some coffee and bagels. I then had my first piece of birthday cake (out of 4 more that were to come).

Then in the evening a bunch of friends came over for “la fiesta del huevo frito” aka “the fried egg party”. We ate (eggs), we drank, we laughed.

The day after, my dad, his wife and my ´lil brother Adam came over for lunch. Raoul´s brother and nephews also came, over. Full house! isn´t Adam gorgeous?

On Sunday, Raoul and I did the “Cursa dels Bombers” which is catalan for the “Firefighters Race” an annual 10k run in the city of Barcelona. It was fun, despite struggling to finish it and injuring my foot (and just to clarify, no, he is not proposing!).

And then this morning at the office when I was fully absorved by my computer screen, my colleagues came in with flowers and cake and sang happy birthday (I took my birthday off work you see). Does this mean I have had a 5 day birthday?  I am one lucky girl, I mean *woman*.

How do you go from here…

to here?

With a lot of patience and just as much humour!

ps. this post is 3 months overdue 😉