Come what may...

On 17 April 2003 Lourika and I promised that we'll stick together - come what may! Later that Thursday evening we opened the dance floor at our wedding reception with a song from the Moulin Rouge soundtrack - "Come what may". Little did we envisage that we'll be right here in London, right now, the day before Lourika's treatment starts. And little did I know that tonight I would listen to the same song on Lourika's new iPod - a gift from friends so that she has a companion while she is pumped full of the stuff that's good for her, and bad for the cancer.

So in this time, when circumstances are so different from that wedding day, but in a way six years better, the lyrics touched me tonight again. Having to deal with cancer is far from perfect, but being with Lourika (cancer or not) is like this:

"Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place
Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace
Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste
It all revolves around you
And there's no mountain too high
No river too wide
Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side
Storm clouds may gather,
And stars may collide
But I love you
Until the end of time
Come what may
Come what may
I will love you until my dying day."

So, while the music is playing, we'll keep on dancing! Here goes...

Andries

The day before the big day.

The last seven days were wonderful. Our good friends Anlie and Paul Dicks arrived on my birthday - surprising me with a beautiful recipe book stand from Carrol Boyes (I love her stuff!!). The weather in London is glorious and on Saturday we all went to Madame Tussauds and in the late evenings (when the sun is still shining at 9pm) we try to solve the whole world's problems. I am a bit jealous, they left for Paris this morning on the Eurostar - but I do hope they have the time of their lives!

Sunday we went to the morning service of the SA Congregation in London. The minister gave the most beautiful sermon on hope - just what I needed for the week ahead. And then we took part in communion. For me personally it was so special.

Last night Andries took me to see Les Miserables, the musical. It was FANTASTIC! Part birthday gift and part "something nice before Wednesday".

Today, the day before the first chemo session, I am like a mother hen. Cleaning the house, washing, drying and ironing clothes and making sure the fridge is packed with food for everyone. I can just predict that one of the difficult things for me is going to allow people to take over tasks on my behalf. And it is silly, I should pretend I am on holiday..... though, in this case, I'd prefer to NOT be on this particular holiday.... You see, the funny part is that I don't feel ill at all. The only thing I feel is the lump. I am sure the chemo will change all of that, making the lump disappear and making me ill.

I am feeling as apprehensive as in the days before the boy's c-sections. I know that it doesn't matter how much I read or talk to people, nothing is going to prepare me for what is coming, almost the same as having a baby. Only this time the nausea and body aches will be after the procedure.

Even though I have breast cancer, I feel so blessed. We are part of a wonderful care group. They already arranged to bring us supper every night, for at least the first month. Woman (all super woman for surviving cancer) had made contact with me and told me their stories of healing and hope - all warming my heart so much! Friends who just jump in to make the load lighter. I am SO grateful to all. But most of all to Andries. He is such an inspiration and is helping me so much to cope with everything. Every moment putting me first - I love him dearly....

And the show hits the road!

Today Andries and I had an appointment with Mr Robert Carpenter, the breast surgeon and Dr Alison Jones, the oncologist. We felt very grand - both rooms are on the upper West End of London.

D-Day will be on the 1st of July. I will be sitting in for eight sessions of chemo (four sessions of AC and four sessions of AC-T chemo). They also want me to try the "scalp cooling" sack with the first session. This apparently helps to keep you hair in tact for a little while longer. Surgery will take place afterwards. Most woman react very well to the drugs and do not feel particularly ill. And they have pills for every condition to make you as comfortable as possible. I will also be receiving G-CSF. This is a haematopoietic growth factor. It stimulates the bone marrow to produce more white blood cells. By taking this drug I will be able to get chemo every two weeks.

The clinic is very nice. A lot of woman come here every week for chemo treatment and they really try and make it as comfortable as possible. I will also be working with Elizabeth, a breast care nurse. A lovely woman from Australia.

I am up for a free make-over session at some point in the treatment and will also be pampered during chemo-sessions. All sounds quite nice.....

We will be tackling the first chemo session with the help of our wonderful friends, Liezel and Francois (and their two beautiful daughters to keep Hugo and Ivan company - they don't mind at all.... ). Thereafter Ouma Ronel will be joining us for the next few.

We feel positive and confident. Please pray that I will stay healthy in between sessions and that things at home will be as normal as possible. Andries is truly an angel! Thanks my Engel, for all your love, support and understanding!!! I love you so much!!!

We are very excited to be moving into a bigger home around middle of July - with four bedrooms and a nice garden. Hugo even ordered a trampoline. Andries will have to start cutting grass again (or is that mowing the lawn?).

Tomorrow is my birthday and our friends Paul and Anlie will be here for my party! Well, a party of four... We are going to have a great weekend to get ourselves ready for Wednesday!

Our trip to SA - the land of milk and honey

Long time, no blog.... We had a great time in SA. Three weeks of family, friends, boerekos and lots of spoiling! Just what my spirit needed to get ready for the show (that is starting 23 June). The boys were impeccable on the flight to OR Tambo and my parents very excited to see us. I felt so much at home, especially with all the taxis blocking the road and stopping anywhere they can.

Just before we left for SA, I had gone for the core breast biopsy. I can compare that to a visit to the dentist. They numb the area and take what they need via a nice thick needle. Five pieces of tissue would to the trick to test for the type of cancer, aggressiveness and the treatment-plan. I decided to not do the bone scan in the UK, as I would have been full of "radiation" and it is not advisable to be close to little children or pregnant woman - the metal detectors would have also gone off at Heathrow.... So I did my bone scan in SA. I left with a clean slate (well, bone structure). I felt blessed.

I also decided to see a physiotherapist, Willie Fourie, who is a specialist in the after care of breast reconstruction. He is a wonderfully warm and kind man and answered a lot of my questions. He explained the working of the lymph nodes and went through all the different reconstruction options and the pros and cons of each. He also referred me to Dr. Carol-Ann Benn at the Milpark Centre of Excellence Breast Clinic. Carol-Ann is a fantastic doctor and advised me so well on many aspects of the treatment, especially regarding cancer in younger woman. After our chat, I felt relaxed and confident to carry on with treatment in the UK (She knows the St. Bart's Breast Clinic as well as my UK oncologist, Dr. Alison Jones very well).

After a week or two I was completely bombarded by information (all my own fault... Knowledge is power, blah, blah, blah....) and decided to cancel my appointment with the oncologist. I didn't know what to ask them??? Anyway, three women phoned me out of the blue - either in the middle of treatment or just finished the road to hell and back. It was such a blessing to be able to chat to women who knew exactly what I was going through. They encouraged me in a way that only women to this new "little secret club" could. I really hope an pray that none of you reading this, would ever have to take up membership....

And just as things started to settle nicely, Hugo ended up in hospital. The poor little chap was so ill with pneumonia, that he stayed there for four nights. After that, we kept him indoors and on his bum (in front of Nils Holgerson at Ouma Ronel's house). Unfortunately that meant that we had to cancel some dates - sorry guys, we'll catch up next time. That will probably be with my new (not) hairdo!

We are now safely back in London. Tomorrow, 23 June I will see the specialist and the oncologist. 24 June is my birthday. I'll be 33 and I have breast cancer. Pray with me that by the time I turn 34, this journey would only have been a detour on the road of life.

PS. The photos are of Ivan (14 months) "riding" a hippo at a friend's house and Hugo (3 and a half) in Krugersdorp Private Hospital.

My side of the story

What a rollercoaster ride the last two and a half weeks have been! To tell you that our world has changed since the 12th of May would be putting it lightly. It's amazing how I, for one, have been taking our good health as a given, and how the change in this assumption has influenced our perspective.

Lourika has written a lot about what has taken place, as she has been to all of the hospital visits on her own while I were looking after the lads. On Thursday last week our kind friend Liezel Lotz looked after the two boys (and her own two girls!) so that Lourika and I could meet with the surgeon who would be taking charge of the treatment if we decide to remain in the UK. IT's somewhat ironic that if surgery is required - and this seems quite likely - that it will be done my Mr. Carpenter. Why Mr. and not Dr.? Many centuries ago surgery started out of the barber trade, and in order to distinguish themselves frmo the physiscians, they opted for the title of Mr. (or Miss) , and it's used to this day.

We met with him at St Bartholomew's Hospital in the City. I immediately felt relaxed when I met him - he seems very confident about the way forward, and it's clear that he is quite experienced in his field. He discussed the probable way forward, although this depends on outcome of the final test results, and Lourika's appointment with the oncologist. In all likelihood Lourika will have six chemotherapy sessions over four months, followed by surgery.

Speaking of the test results; it seems that the cancer has not spread beyond her breast and lymph nodes under her arm, so that was great news. As the doctor told Lourika: "You're young, you're healthy, and you just happen to have a lump in your breast. So go and relax in South Africa for a couple of weeks, and we can fight this once you are back." So that's where Lourika and the boys are at the moment, while I am writing this from a room on the 24th floor of the Hotel Jen in Hong Kong. I am here for business, and am relieved that we long ago decided that Lourika, Hugo and Ivan spend this time in SA.

Thanks to every one who has supported us through phone calls, text messages, e-mail, and most importantly their prayers. Never before have we physically been so far removed from our loved ones, but felt so close because of the overwhelming messages of love, hope and support that we have received. You do not begin to understand what this means to us!

Until next time!

Andries

Quo vadis?

One of the decisions that Andries and I need to take is where to have the treatment done - in the United Kingdom or in South Africa?

Quo vadis? is a Latin phrase meaning "Where are you going?" We know that treatment in the UK will be world class, but South African doctors are also world renowned. Our support sytem is better back home, but it would mean that Andries has to leave a job that he has grown to enjoy so much (although he said that he'll return tomorrow if that is what I want to do!).

The boys and I set off for South Africa in two days' time, but on Thursday before we fly out Andries and I will together see the surgeon (Mr Carpenter) for the first time. Based on our discussion with him, and what we learn from our appointments with two oncologists in South Africa, we will be able to make the call. This is not going to be an easy one...

By the way - Monday 25 May was a bank holiday in England, but also my first down day when I was pretty angry about this lump in my breast. I'll have more such days - I am sure. But then again I'll have great days, and we'll make the most of it!

More tests than the Lions Tour to SA

On Wednesday 13 May, the day after I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I wake up early. Suddenly I wish it was yesterday, as yesterday I did not have cancer yet.

We write an e-mail to our closest friends, and over the weekend Andries sends out his "London Bulletin" where he also breaks the news. Messages of support, prayers and so many success stories of victory over cancer stream in, and we cry some more. Andries informs his boss, and he pledges his full support during this difficult time.

The next two weeks are filled with tests. Mammogram, MRI scan on the breasts and chest, CT scan on the liver and lungs, core breast biopsy and a bone scan. We also talk to an oncologist in South Africa, and she provides valuable guidance. She is the sister of someone in my parents-in-law's care group - the Lord works in wonderful ways!

Andries' aunt Elizabeth visits us during this time - a trip that she book long ago. She helps with the kids and the household, and it was great to have her around.

On Friday 22 May I see Mr Carpenter (fitting name, isn't it?)- a general surgeon specialising in breast surgery (removal and reconstruction). He had a look at most of the results and reckons that the tumour is close to 4 centimetres in diameter, and located so deep in the tissue that a mastectomy is quite likely. He wants to start with a series of chemotherapy treatments, and then perform the surgery. He lifts my spirit with his plan of action, and I feel positive about the road ahead.

Throughout this time we keep on receiving messages of support and prayers, and I just know that God has great plans in stall for me in these trying times.