Hoping for home

Today I've been in hospital for one week. This time last week the mastectomy-procedure was well under way. I'm very thankful that I am on this side of the operation and on my way to recovery.

The hospital, The London Clinic, is all very smart, the service excellent (my hospital meals chosen from a menu and prepared and delivered by 'Clinic Hotel Services') and the staff extremely professional, but I want to go home now. I miss everyone terribly and can't wait to hand out heaps of hugs and kisses to my boys.

My hair also started to grow at a very good pace for the last week. I even had to shave under my not-dissected armpit this morning. I am very excited about the hair growing back on my head! Since Andries shaved everything off in July, it takes a split second to get used the image in the mirror, every single time I look at myself. Although it doesn't 'feel' different to have no hair on my head. The first lot of hair that is coming out feels very soft and the ends burnt - I think because of the strong chemo drugs. I have gotten the advise to let it grow out a bit and then shave it all off again. The next set of hair is then usually nice, smooth, strong and thick.

On a very serious hair-note. I've been washing my dome with baby shampoo. I reckoned that would be quite sensible and I will also 'have no tears'. Well, that is rubbish! The reason why babies scream until their faces turn blood-red during bath time, is because the shampoo burns your eyes like hell. Not to mention that it is a horrible sensation when the cold shampoo hits your bald head. Just keep that in mind next time you do babies hair...

Anyway, I am getting ready for my morning date - my three hunks are coming to visit, seeing that I will not be going home today. At least another drain pipe can be removed and then there is only one more left. So maybe, just maybe I can go home tomorrow. I hope you all have a great weekend and that the temperatures in Joburg will be rising very soon. XXX

Four days and counting

So it's been four days after surgery. I am bruised in a lot of places. Still three drain pipes hanging from my left side. Stiff from sleeping eight hours in one position. I am not particularly in a lot of pain, though I drink all the pills that they pile up in front of me - surely a lot of them pain killers. The nursing staff is wonderful - patient, understanding and extremely gentle.

But I miss home, my two beautiful boys, the familiar sounds and smells. My mom-in-law is by far the best cook I know. She can dish up the most amazing plates of food with minimal ingredients and splashes of spices here and there. I am so looking forward to that once I am home. My blood platelets are low and the doctor advised that I should eat well and added that "I don't need to tell a South African to eat red meat". But no piece of red meat in the UK can even begin to compare to a piece of Karoo lamb..... mmm....

My surgeon is off to a South African beach holiday. Cape Town. I am so excited for him. I gave him a nice long list of places to visit, wine to taste and roads to travel. He looked at me and said he was hoping to relax on the beach but would definitely consider my 'to do' list. I am so happy about the fact that the pounds we are spending on the surgery will be channeled back to South Africa - I hope he buys a lot of good wine and delicious SA cuisine.

Tonight the care group is packing shoe boxes. This is usually a fun-filled evening! The aim is to produce a Christmas box filled with toys and sweets for less fortunate children. A project run by the church. We are all so blessed, that it is so nice to be able to give back and share blessings. I hope that you will also join a special project this coming Christmas time and make a difference in someone's live, even if it is just one person.

The morning after...

The morning after the operation started very early - around 1 am. By that time the worst of the drowsiness was something of the past, and I could start my recuperation. At some point during my immediate post operation recovery I was instructed to control the pain by the self administration of morphine. I could not overdose on this pain killer, but had the ability to administer it not more frequently than every five minutes. For some reason I remembered that I should push the button every five minutes. The result was a very good first night, but also a bemused anaesthetist telling me that I used twice the normal amount of morphine following the operation. This does not classify me as an addict, and resulted in me feeling very happy and pain-free. He warned me that once this "overdose" has worn off it may result in post operation blues though!

I suspect that that many of you may wonder what the new breast looks like. I'm not going to publish a picture of my new piece of art, but suffice to say that I am very happy with the result... The shape of my new breast may change over time but the end result is normally quite satisfactory. I need to keep in mind that the aim of the operation is not to create a mirror image of the other breast, but rather to give me a "normal" looking cleavage when I wear under- or swimwear.

I've had a couple of visitors to date - Andries and Hugo, my mother's cousin Retha (who I last saw in 1980) and the Schiekes that travelled all the way from Reading. According to the surgeon I'll probably be in hospital until next weekend, but between visitors, books, television and my iPod I am sure the time will fly by.

I really feel positive after the operation, and the side effects are pretty manageable. I am not quite ready to cycle the 94.7 yet (and well done to those of you that did this weekend in Johannesburg!) but I'll get there!

A brief update following the surgery

Lourika has just woken up form her anaesthetist induced sleep, and seems to be all right and in good spirit. She is somewhat sleepy still, but otherwise in good form. The surgeon was happy with the operation, and we will see him tomorrow morning first thing.

So far so good - exactly as advertised! I'll provide a more detailed update once Lourika's had a good night's rest.

EGBOK

This morning I am sitting in a little French bakery/brasserie/confectionery on Marylebone High Street, and have just ordered a random breakfast item, and am drinking coffee which should taste great but seems to be of no consequence to me. The reason for all of this is that Lourika was diagnosed with breast cancer six months and two days ago, and after eight sessions of chemotherapy, five weeks of recovery, one week in Egypt and an abundance of prayers she has just gone into the theatre for her surgery. I don't want to wait in her room (which by the way is as good as you'll find anywhere!), so I ventured one block away from the London Clinic and ended up here in a typical British High Street waiting for the four hours to go by.

It was a rainy morning in London, and when we left our house at 6 o'clock the wind was howling. Not dissimilar to my emotions, I might say. The surgeon was held up in traffic so the operation started about 90 minutes later than originally scheduled. And as Lourika entered the theatre the sun came out, and that's when I knew that Everything's Going to Be OK - whatever happens.

Now is perhaps a good time to publish a very general "thank you" to everyone that has supported our family over the last half a year - everyone that visited us and ran the household while Lourika was being treated and I had to keep on working, everyone that wrote, phoned, prayed, Skyped, Facebooked and sent gifts, everyone at work that showed more compassion that I could ever hope for, and everyone that held on to the hope that Lourika will be not a victim but a survivor of breast cancer. And a big big thank you to my brave wife who has made the journey for Hugo, Ivan and I as easy as we could ever have hoped for, and inspiring us along the way. Wow, what a woman!

That's it from me for now - I have to finish my breakfast before I start looking like some kind of writer who's sitting in his favourite corner at his regular coffee joint trying to overcome writer's block...

Au revoir!

My own D-day

Finally the evening of the big operation arrived. This event in my life has been stuck in my head and heart since 12 May, the day of my initial diagnosis. We knew this day would eventually arrive.

I have to be at The London Clinic at 6:30 am. They will do an ECG and I will be off to theatre around 8 am. Mr Carpenter, the breast surgeon, explained that it is around a four hour procedure. They will remove the left breast's tissue, sparing the skin of the breast and do reconstruction with the help of the Latisimus Dorsi muscle from my back. They cut part of the muscle loose and tunnel it to the front and reshape it in the form of a breast. If they need to enlarge the area they will do that with an implant or with tissue extracted via lipo suction from my tummy.

I had a good day today. I spent wonderful time with the family and Andries and I went to the Docklands museum and for a cappuccino afterwards. Two wonderful friends from our church, Karen and Rachel, came in the morning to chat a bit and very important, to pray for me. It was a wonderful event, if I may call it that. It is such a relieve to just give all of this to the Lord and not to worry about a thing. Joshua 1:5 promise "I will not leave you nor forsake you". I feel extremely calm and positive about tomorrow's operation. It is not about loosing a breast, it is about getting a new lease on life. Having hope. Getting healed.

To everyone, all over the world - I feel so blessed that you have traveled this journey so far with me. Thanks that you never stopped believing that I am going to beat this. Thanks for the never ending positive thoughts and encouragement. And thanks for the prayers, every day - the Lord heard all of them and knows the needs of our hearts.

We serve a great, mighty and amazing God. I am His daughter. He loves me fully, completely. I love the song "Indescribable" by Chris Tomlin. Here is a little bit:

From the highest of heights to the depths of the sea
Creation's revealing Your majesty
From the colors of fall to the fragrance of spring
Every creature unique in the song that it sings
All exclaiming
Indescribable, uncontainable,
You placed the stars in the sky and You know them by name.
You are amazing God
All powerful, untameable,
Awestruck we fall to our knees as we humbly proclaim
You are amazing God.

The Lord loves you, completely, just the way you are. He sees the depths of your heart and still loves you the same. If you should die today, are you certain of where you will spend eternity? Maybe today is your day to invite the lord, Jesus Christ into your live and give Him a change to show you how perfect His love is for you. In Chris' words: His love is indescribable, uncontainable, incomparable and unchangeable.

Good night, sleep tight, don't let the bed-bugs bite! XXX

Back from Egypt

We had a terrific time in Sharm El Shaikh. The sun was blasting every day and we enjoyed the pools and sea very much. It was a lazy holiday - sleeping late, no cooking, no cleaning, other people preparing all our meals. It was a big treat! On the photo's you can see me on a camel, waiving like queen Nefertiti (after the op it will be queen Newer-titi...), the three hunks that accompanied me to Egypt, our little family, myself and Hugo and Ivan and me.

Oupa André and Ouma Ronel arrived yesterday and it is such a treat to have them here. We were spoilt rotten with the most amazing gifts from bunches of people in SA - we feel so blessed to have them in our lives! I am really looking forward to my packets of Niknaks....

One of the surprises was a file made up by a bunch of my friends. Each one took a plastic bag and filled it up with letters, articles, books and a teabag. The instructions said that I must make a cup of tea with the teabag provided and work my way through each gift pack. It is such a special thing that they did for me and really makes me feel closer to home then I really am. And off course my mom made sure I had new slippers, books, sweets and the newest 'Huisgenoot' with old Joost on the cover! Thanks for all my nice goodies!

So the big day for the operation is only two sleeps away. I feel a bit nervous, but more grateful that the cancer will be cut out. The doctor explained that it is a four hour procedure. They will do the mastectomy and reconstruction of the breast in one. He also needs to do an clearance where he is going to remove about 20 lymph nodes under my left arm to be tested afterwards. The results of these tests are important with regards to further treatment (radiotherapy) and the prediction of recurrence.

Please pray with us for a good and successful operation and a speedy recovery. I need to have drainpipes and will be going home as soon as those are removed.

Just before we left SA in June to come back to start the treatment, Miley Cirus was singing her new song, 'The Climb'. After watching "Why I wore lipstick to my mastectomy" I decided that this song will be my "war song". Slowly but surely I forgot about that and then my wonderful sister-in-law wrote me a letter and mentioned this song. This part I like best:

There's always going to be another mountain

I'm always going to want to make it move

Always going to be an uphill battle,

Sometimes you going to have to lose,

Ain't about how fast I get there,

Ain't about what's waiting on the other side

It's the climb

Keep on moving

Keep climbing

Keep the faith baby

It's all about

It's all about

The climb

Keep the faith

Keep your faith

So, lets keep the faith. Lets keep on climbing.....