The Mother Ship

A month or so ago, I found out that my friend who lives in the same small town as me had been diagnosed as having breast cancer.  I was really shocked - she's young and has 3 very young children.  And worse, she had to have a mastectomy and will start the first of 8 chemotherapy treatments soon, then she'll have to do radiotherapy.

Her diagnosis brought up all sorts of feelings for me and gave me a taste of what it was like to be on the other side of breast cancer - the supporters side.

As news came in from her day at the hospital where they did a biopsy and gave her the results immediately and the prognosis that it was cancer and then the whammy of the mastectomy, then the chemo to come, it brought back awful memories of that period when I was doing all those tests and waiting and waiting and fighting to get the right decision and feeling so out of control and shocked and sad and alone.

I offered my help in whatever way I could, of course, as did her other friends, and we have had quite a few exchanges, cups of tea and outings together.  I hope that by being able to share these things with her, it has helped her to not feel so alone as some of our conversations have been very graphic and down to earth, we've discussed some things that only people who have been through or who are living with the disease can understand.  I've also passed on some useful names and addresses of health care professionals that I found to be sympathetic and effective.

The day of her mastectomy and lymph node removal, I felt so deeply sad for her.  Not in a pitying way (this is the last thing she'd have wanted), but in a way that I felt sad in my very bones and my heart that she had this day where this horrible thing was going to happen to her, that she had to go through and that this was going to change her life.  I called a friend who also knew and we shared our feelings of sadness.  It felt pretty powerless too, waiting for the news, hoping she'd get through ok and that there wouldn't be any complications.  I imagined how my friends and family must have been feeling when that was happening to me.  It was truly a joyless day.

It did hit me hard and brought back dreadful memories and I am worried about how she's going to fare with the next bit, but on the whole, I hope I have brought her some help and someone to talk to and (as nothing is one-sided), I have also been able to talk to her in a way that I can't talk to others who are not going through it.  We have brought each other comfort, I hope.  And I got to meet her lovely Mum, who, sadly, was also diagnosed with breast cancer 5 yrs ago.

One of our outings was to the hospital Gustave Roussy, where she was operated on.  It was just before her surgery and maybe this outing brought us both a little 'too much information'.  It was a seminar in a very nice lecture theatre 'Cancer du Sein: Mieux Vivre La Chirurgie' (Breast Cancer, how best to get through the surgery).

First of all, the hospital itself was a revelation.  I have never been anywhere so huge.  This building was so big I couldn't even get it on my camera (I know I need an iphone 5 with panoramic view), and there are many outbuildings behind it too.  The hospital is considered as one of the top cancer hospitals in France, and is world renown for it's advances and research.  It's called the 'Cancer Campus'.  Personally, I was a little overawed by the size of the place and I think it was better for me to be in a smaller hospital that I knew already and I think my treatement (certainly my operation) was the right one for me and I may not have got that treatment in a larger hospital where I might have felt like 'just a number'.  However, in such a large specialised place, you can be sure that you're getting the most up to date information, access to great specialists and the support system seems excellent.  I feel like I haven't been so well supported and the support that I've got I have had to find and fight for myself.

A large hospital does give you a sense of being looked after and having the best care, so I'm really glad my friend was looked after properly.   I know, however, that it was difficult to get to as it's in the south of Paris and not so easy to access by public transport.

Anyway, I arrived for the last two topics on the seminar 'Questions sur l'image de soi, la sexualité, et le vécu après mastectomie' (Questions on your self image, sexuality and life after a mastectomy).  It was very useful to hear the psychologist speak and gave me some points to discuss with the psychologist I'm seeing on a weekly basis.

The last presentation was 'Reconstruction mammaire: les techniques classiques et récentes (injection de graisse Brava)' (Breast reconstruction, classic and new techniques (fat injections and Brava)).  This was the one I was particularly interested in.  This was also the one with a little tmi for both of us I think.  Lots of photos, really upsetting graphic photos, before and after, vials of fat all blown up to huge size on the screen.  Lots of photos that amazed me, too, as to how surgeons were able to reconstruct women's breasts to look so very similar to the remaining breast or the original ones.  I wanted to reach out of squeeze my friend's hand - she was going to have her surgery in a week's time and all this was to come.

Afterwards was useful too as there were various stands for associations linked with breast cancer, so I came away with some very useful information and we chatted to the person who is present in the sort of drop-in support centre in the hospital.  I found out about 'La Journée Glamour' (more of that to come after next week) and like I say, the support services in such a huge place are fantastic, such as the seminar that day.

My friend had a good as can be experience in the hospital, her surgery went well.  The room was bright and cheerful with coloured bedspreads.  She stayed in for around a week and she had all good things to say about the nurses and the hospital and her Mum spent all afternoon and evening with her every day.