Cancer is a Can’t

On the 22nd August Liv and Jord gave us the most precious gift of a Granddaughter.

Our beautiful little Elodie.

A dream come true to become a Grandma.

Holding this precious bundle has filled me with overwhelming love.

Light in the darkness.

So very blessed.

Yesterday we received the devastating news that I was being taken off the clinical trial.

Sadly whilst the drugs have shrunk the cancer in some areas & kept some stable it has continued to progress in my lung and breast.

I’m still very grateful to have been given the opportunity of this trial, it came with no guarantees and it bought me more precious time.

For now I’m concentrating on spending time with my family whilst decisions are made on what comes next.

I’m so, so sad this has happened, when everything had looked so promising but for me, it just wasn’t meant to be 💔

On Sunday another goal was reached.

Moments that are never guaranteed.

We celebrated Liv’s baby shower at Winslade Manor. A beautiful, intimate event organised by her best friend Millie for Liv’s close friends.
Look at the effort and detail. Their friendship is so special.

As the combined families are so big we’re having a second one on the 8th August. So close to the due date the baby may join us!

We are holding off for Liv’s Aunty Amanda to join us as she lives on the Grand Cayman and arrives in the UK on the 1st August.

You can see from the colour scheme that my baby girl is growing her own little baby girl. 💗

I couldn’t be prouder. I know Liv is going to be the most wonderful Mumma 💗💗

UPDATE PART 3

On Monday I was admitted to A&E with a suspected bowel obstruction.
With ovarian cancer this can happen. You don’t even have to have the disease on your bowel for it to happen.

(Here comes too much information and if you don’t like talking about 💩then scroll on🙈)

I’d been unable to 💩 I couldn’t even 💨. I was bloated I couldn’t eat and was in a lot of discomfort.

Monday morning I rang the Royal Marsden for advice who told me to go straight to A&E. Bowel obstructions are very dangerous and can be fatal.

I was very fortunate as soon as I was triaged I was taken straight through to the majors unit so only waited in A&E about 20 minutes.

There was then quite a wait whilst the nurses were ringing every department to see if anyone could access my port because it’s a new style one, the size of a pound coin and it’s in my arm, not the chest. They’d never seen one before, plus they don’t access them in A&E.

Nobody in the hospital could do it, which meant they’d have to give me a cannula… only they couldn’t find any veins. A nurse attempted once using ultrasound but was not successful. Finally they brought in an anaesthetise who managed to access a vein under ultrasound. I was finally able to be given a CT scan..

The CT scan confirmed there was no bowel obstruction but ‘fecal compaction’ in the colon. (Basically it was official that official I’m full of 💩)
The increase in doses of morphine had put my bowel to sleep. This is a very common side effect with morphine. I’d been taking laxatives but not everyday and not enough. Plus I’d not been drinking enough water.

A&E gave me an e***a. Very interesting 😳
They sent me home, but with no real ongoing plan apart from take Laxido and if you don’t ‘go’ in two days you can always come back..
However it didn’t work.

On Tuesday was my check up appointment at The Royal Marsden.

First thing in the morning I drank a Laxido. Was violently sick the minute I finished it. I really didn’t want to do the long journey feeling so ill but Alan wanted me to be seen by them, so in the car we got.

Was sick in the car. (Luckily went prepared and had a bowl)
Worst part was Alan had stopped at the services to grab a coffee. He got back into the car and was helping sort me out and clean up after being sick. He put his cup on the dashboard and forgot it was there… the entire cup landed in my lap as he pulled the car away. My shorts and legs drowned in coffee.
I had to take them off and travel to London in my pants whilst my shorts were drying on the dashboard. I spent the day in coffee stained brown crispy shorts…

The Marsden took the problem much more seriously.
The Dr. massaged by tummy to try and wake up the bowels. He told me I mustn’t be afraid to eat (because in my mind food would only sit on top of what was stuck) because food stimulates the bowel.
I hadn’t eaten in three days.

He said e***as only work if they reach high enough into the colon and the ‘stools’ have begun to soften, which is why mine hadn’t worked.

He assured me I wasn’t keeping Laxido down because I was taking it on an empty stomach.

They sent me out for a walk to help waken the bowel.

Ordered me some food (bowl of fruit) and waited to ensure I was able to eat it and keep it down.
(Apparently when blockages are severe, food can’t go down and you can actually start vomiting up your own poo. It terrified me 🤢🤮)

I managed to eat it and keep it down. 👏

Waited a while and they gave me Laxido and that too stayed down.

They were then happy to let me go with a regimented plan.
Laxido 3 x a day and 2 x senna, morning and night. Eat high fibre foods to stimulate the bowel, avoid high fat foods as they make the bowel slower and drink lots of water. Keep moving around, go for walks.

We didn’t get home until 8pm after a 5am start.
A totally exhausting day.

Late yesterday afternoon I received a call from Nicky, one of the three cancer nurse specialists at The Royal Marsden.
She was checking in on me. The care that I receive under that hospital really is second to none.

‘Hi Gail, it’s Nicky, just checking to see how you are?
Have you managed to open your bowels yet?’

Me, forever trying to keep my sense of humour and see the light in dark situations, ‘Yes Nicky I’m absolutely delighted to tell you that the s**t has hit the pan.”

Nicky hysterically laughing, “I’m glad to hear it. You do make me laugh. Well if you have any concerns in the meantime you know where we are. If not we will see you on Tuesday.”

I could still hear her laughing as she put the phone down.

I mean you’ve got to make the best of a s**t situation 💩🤪

So here we are. Typical Gail style, no updates, you all think I’ve died, I’m like a bus, nothing, then three come along at once…

A little update from me..

A few things to update you on so will be in a few parts.

Well it’s been a hot minute and it’s been calm and chaos all in one.

I’m still on the clinical trial and have been travelling to the Royal Marsden weekly. One week for treatment the following for my check ups.
It has been hard going with the distance and travel, but we do what we’ve got to do.

On good days I’ve been out and about, enjoying the sun and nature and spending time with family.
Not so good days I spend a lot of time at home alone.

The trial has been going relatively smoothly with my main side effect being severe fatigue, unfortunately though with any cancer journey complications can kick in from the disease itself, or medications to manage the pain.

I’ve not been lucky enough to escape these and they’ve all happened in pretty close succession.

When I began the trial my baseline scan showed I had a small pleural effusion (fluid in the pleura, the lining of the lung) however not enough to drain.

Since beginning the trial I have developed an annoying irritating cough, sometimes huge coughing fits and struggle to hold a conversation without coughing.

During my check ups the lungs have been listened to and the bottom of my left lung is ‘quiet’ indicating no air is entering.
I’d begun getting more lung pain.

On a visit 3 weeks ago it was established my lung was quiet 3/4 of the way up, so the professor running the trial brought my scans forward by two weeks.

This brought great news, the trial drugs are continuing to work and my tumours are shrinking, no new sites of disease, I’m stable.

The bad news was my lung was no surrounded by so much fluid it had collapsed under the pressure, hence the breathlessness and pain.
It needed draining and quite urgently.
The Royal Marsden were deciding which hospital they wanted to send me to, to coordinate around my treatment but also bearing in mind the distance I live from the hospital.
I was sent home whilst decisions were to be made.

The next day my Hospicare nurse, Jo rang to check in on me. I explained the situation. She was concerned the collapsed lung could develop into an emergency situation quite rapidly so urged me to contact my doctor to refer me to my local hospital.

Within an hour I was on the acute medical unit.

I was called into a side room by a young, male nurse.
He looks at me and says, “Are you Jack Nicholls Mum?”

I laugh and confirm I am, dreading what he might say next.

“You might not remember me but I stayed at your house when I was younger. You also taught my friend Amy in Hair Extensions.”

Me, looking at his name badge laughing, “Well Dave that makes a change. It’s usually girls that say to me. You don’t know me, but I’ve slept at your house before.”

Was slightly awkward as I had to take my top off so I hope next time he sees Jack he doesn’t say, “I’ve seen your Mums b***s” 😳🤣🙈

After lots of tests, discussion between the Royal Marsden and the Royal Devon & Exeter I was scheduled to have my lung drained on the Thursday.

Thursday arrived and I was greeted by the same nurse who did the very first lung drain and had to break the news to me I had cancer. He was present when I had the permanent lung catheter fitted and he was the one who removed it. He remembered me although he must see so many patients 🥰

Mum and my sister Michelle came with me and he allowed them to stay in the room for moral support.

He brought up my CT scan from the Royal Marsden and showed it to all three of us. You could clearly see where my lung had ‘caved in’
He explained that the way the fluid had formed was complex as it had settled into ‘pockets’ of fluid. He went on to say that it looked like it had been there quite sometime and the imagery looked like it had become more like jelly, rather than fluid.

“So what happens if that’s the case?” My sister asked. I could see the fear on her face.

“Unfortunately nothing can be done apart from help relieve the symptoms and pain management. However I’m going to do an ultrasound to see if there are any areas of free fluid which I could potentially drain.”

I don’t know how I kept it together. I was in a lot of pain and already breathless, but I remained calm hoping for the best from the ultrasound.

On went the cold jelly and he began the search for fluid…

“Ignore everything I’ve just said. On the CT it looked solid. You have a lot of free flowing fluid, look.” He showed me on the screen.
“I’m happy to go for it if you’re happy”

“Let’s do it.” I said as if I was playing my part in the procedure.

Mum being squeamish sat in the cubicle with the curtain around. My sister in a chair holding my hand.
Instant regret I’m sure because I nearly broke it squeezing so hard as they injected local anaesthetic into my lung.

“There’s a lot of fluid coming off,” Michelle said, monitoring the catheter bag. It looks like khaki wee!”

I didn’t look.

“Gail you may begin to get pain in your chest as your cavity wall will be irritated as it expands, you will start coughing. If you get any pain anywhere let me know and we can pause the drain.”

Chest pain, the bottom of my back was hurting where the lung was beginning to re expand, pain in the shoulder blade and I began to cough, which also hurt.

Ben, the nurse rescanned the lung. “There’s more fluid there but I don’t want to push it. Your lung has been crushed for quite sometime. We’re going to stop here. I will give you our direct number and if you feel like the fluid has built up again, you become breathless, then we will scan you and drain again as needed.”

He drained a whole litre.

I’m sore, but Mum said I was a brave little soldier.

I didn’t get a sticker though 🤪🤣

So this has been complication one. After another recent emergency hospital admission I had another chest X-ray and the fluid has built up to 3/4 of the lung, less than was there before, but we now need to schedule another drain.
Ironically the pain and cough has got worse since it was drained, but I’m assuming that is as the collapsed lung is gradually re expanding.

Anyhoo here’s a few pics of some nice things I’ve done in between the not so nice things.. making the most of the beauty that surrounds us.

Dartmoor, the coast. Our beautiful cathedral when I visited the craft fair, The Double Locks with Mum, Dad Sister & my niece for a lovely lunch for my sisters birthday.

Hang in there for update 2…

This morning I woke to the notification I have 500 followers.

A small number in the grand scheme of things.

I never began this page with the intention of growing a huge following, I still don’t.
It was simply an outlet, like an online book to share my life’s journey.

So many have said to me, “You really should write a book about your life. You’re so good with your words, you write beautifully. It would be a best seller. I’d certainly buy it.”

So I began this little blog, as the basis and timeline if I ever did take that leap. Only once I began documenting I realised so much has happened, it wouldn’t fit within the pages of just one book. I’d need to write several books and in truth I don’t know if life is granting me enough time.

I’m a complex character in many ways and the life traumas I’ve experienced have shaped me. This blog has been a journey of self discovery, it’s helped me to try and understand who I am. I mean I’m still here learning and working it out!

It’s been cathartic. I’ve been open and transparent and worn my heart on my sleeve. I’ve laid myself bare, open for judgement and criticism, I’ve documented the highs and lows and you’ve all been nothing but kind. ♥️

I’m not consistent on here, sometimes I’ll spam you all with several blogs all in one hit (particularly when I was taking high doses of the steroids and I’d become manic!)
Then I disappear for weeks and weeks and I know you’re waiting for a death announcement (warped sense of humour has never changed!)

What has touched me the most are those also on a cancer journey, who have reached out and I’ve been able to offer help and advice, I’ve been able to articulate how they’re feeling or they’ve simply said my blog has given them the strength and inspiration to keep fighting. 🥺

Thank you, to all 500 of you, who’ve allowed me this space to share this journey with you.

The good, the bad, the ugly and the downright hilarious. ♥️

Gail x

One phonecall. Just one phonecall can change everything.

Positive news can act like a crane, hook you up and hoist you higher than the clouds.

The reality is I’ve been struggling, because on this cancer journey I have lost myself. Lost who I am.

I can’t keep looking back at ‘the old me’ and mourning her and the life she had. Because she is no longer. That life no longer exists.

I have no sense of direction, no feeling of purpose. I’ve been in fight mode for so long, I’m stuck. Simply surviving, but at this moment in time, I’m not thriving.

I have the most wonderful goal of our first Grandchild to meet and marvel in their wonder, I’m so grateful that now it really looks like I will get to kiss their tiny head and tickle those tiny feet.

But I’m still lost. I’m battling fatigue and mental exhaustion. The travelling to London 1-2 weekly has taken its toll, but now at least we know those journeys have been worth every minute.

Those who know me from my professional capacity, will know I was top of my game. My passion, commitment and dedication to my career.
It gave me a sense of purpose. A feeling of success, achievement and I absolutely loved it.
But that came to a sudden, abrupt halt. I mean seriously, who would spend the last ‘6 months’ of their life working?
Well in truth I’d probably have become too ill and realistically that would be 3 months.

So I closed my business. I removed myself from Google maps, LinkedIn, deactivated my page, my website. All gone, overnight. My life’s work.

I know I never want to return behind the chair.

But teaching. I miss that. I have over 20 years of knowledge and experience locked away inside my brain. What a waste to take that with me and not share it if I’m able to.
Small, one to one classes. Just once or twice a month. Online theory, like never available before. Supporting the smaller brands who are building from the ground up. Not fully established, big corporations full of directors whose only concern are the profits. It’s not me. We are real people, with real life experiences. Different opinions and approaches. I don’t want to fit into a box. Clipped wings can’t fly.

I hate the way the industry has become. Every image is expected to resemble a TV commercial. AI and filtered. Posts talking to the industry, not the client, the person that really matters sat in the chair.
I want to go back to basics. Strip it all back. Everyone fighting to become ‘the next big thing’

It’s horrendous and the pressure placed on stylists to be ‘perfect’ is not right. Unrealistic.

I don’t want to be the next big thing. But I want to give people the skills and tools and really good, undiluted education.

My mind is racing.
I can feel a fire beginning to burn in my belly.

This morning I woke up with hope. A possible future.

Ironically my website renewal is due in a week. Do I renew in the hope I still have something to give?

For weeks I’ve struggled to get out of bed.

Just one phonecall is all it took.

I’ve just had the phonecall from The Royal Marsden with my CT scan results from yesterday.

I’ve developed the same annoying cough I had when I was first diagnosed, so Alan and I had prepared ourselves for bad news.

Today I’ve spent crying on and off in sheer fear of the call coming in and knowing the result.

I even said a prayer for the first time since I was a teenager.

When ‘no caller ID’ flashed on the screen I sat down, took a deep breath and prepared for bad news.

‘Gail we’re very pleased with your CT results. Everything is stable.
Your lymph nodes are shrinking. Can you feel the lump on your collarbone?”

Me, “Yes and I was convinced it was getting smaller, but then thought I was imagining it because it was just wishful thinking.”

“Well the scan shows it’s not wishful thinking. It is getting smaller.”

Me, “I’m certain the mass in my armpit is smaller.”

“That’s because it is. That’s shrinking too. So are the lymph nodes you can’t see or feel in your abdomen.”

Me now crying, ”and my lungs?”

“It’s noted there’s a slight thickening in the pleura. These drugs can irritate the lung. This could be what’s causing your cough. Otherwise your lungs are clear. It’s early days, but we’ve got things under control.”

Me, “and my CA125?”

“Thats come down too, from 614 to 485.”

Turns out my prayer was answered.

The trial drugs are working 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Hey there beautiful people. Thought I’d better post evidence that I’m still alive 🙈

Thank you to the kind souls who checked in whilst I’ve been MIA, I know you thought you might be messaging a co**se (My humour game is still strong 😜)

Photo taken on Sunday. First time I’d worn make up in 3 months, however this time I actually had a full set of natural lashes for the mascara to cling to, instead of pathetic gappy stumps!
My eyebrows are a different matter, I only have half an eyebrow on each but I’m hoping to start a new trend. My amazing eyebrow pen that creates little hair strokes hadn’t been used for so long it had dried up. I still managed to wing it and make it look like I’ve got some.

Given up on the wigs, here I’ve put on my topper as I finally have a fully covered hairline. Gals I’m starting to look human 🤣
We were off to celebrate our close friends, Kate & Chris’ engagement. I actually wore something other than loungewear, a dress and it still fitted!
Had to reeducate myself in how to wear heels but hey, I remained upright so all was good.

I’m currently laid on my bed at The Royal Marsden waiting for my treatment to come up from the lab.
I’ve been on the trial for seven weeks now.
It has been gruelling in sense of the distance to travel, 4 hours each way. Treatment days we stay in a hotel the night before.
Check up days we do in one day. Sometimes I’m here twice a week. We’ve set up a family rota to take the pressure off Alan.

Before I started the trial I’d begun to have symptoms of the disease as it progressed.
I’d lost all feeling under my left b**b (I guess the effected lymph nodes were compressing nerves)
Pain & spasms behind the rib cage (I learned the cancer had spread into those muscles) Pain in my back and lungs.
I’d begun to take morphine and was liasing with Hospicare to help with my pain management.

Within the first treatment cycle I regained all feeling, my pain has gone and I no longer take ANY pain relief.
This is a positive sign. 🙏
I haven’t had my CA125 cancer marker taken yet, next week I have my CT scan to see if this clinical trial is working.

Last week I met a lovely lady who began the same trial as me in January.
She’s the 5th in the world to receive this drug combination, I’m 8th.
Her cancer markers have gone from 475 to 69 and her tumours have more than halved in size.

I’m trying not to get too excited as I’m fully aware our bodies are different and we can respond in different ways, but this is amazing news.

This truly could be a breakthrough in ovarian cancer treatments we’ve all been praying for 🙏

Anyhoo, I’m off to meet my Liv in the hospital cafe. She has been my chauffeur and hospital buddy on the family rota.
She’s now 26 weeks pregnant and I’m absolutely determined I’m going to hold my little grandbaby and smother them with all the love ♥️