“Polly, I ask, “How long does it take for the hair loss to start?”

KAYE’S LIFE… THE POWERFUL STORY OF A BREAST CANCER SURVIVOR – PART 6 – The Leigh G Banks Preservation Society

The Society is publishing the true story of a woman who went to hell and back because of breast cancer. This is Kaye Howarth’s story in her own words. Thank you for wanting to share with us and the world Kaye.

Biography … Bald Bird Surviving Breast Cancer

Part 7 Next Week

First Chemo Session. 

Dave comes with me. Polly explains, as I settle myself into a comfortable chair where the Chemo is administrated, the procedure. They will put a needle into a vein that will be linked to the Chemotherapy treatment.

The drug is made up of three types of drug each one will give a separate sensation.

1. I may feel the sensation of ants marching across my chest, forehead, and nasal area.
2. I may feel lightheaded, well I’ve always been rather scatty…so!
3. Metallic taste in mouth.

Whilst this is being explained to me, I take in the other ladies, some are wearing wigs, some aren’t, some wear cold caps (Supposed to stop your hair loss) they seem to be all at different stages of treatment. One lady is being told that she can’t have her final course of Chemo today as her blood count is too low. She is really pissed off, but takes it on the chin, and re- appoints.

“Polly, I ask “How long does it take for the hair loss to start?” I am told roughly about two sessions. My friend Liz is getting married in two months, I wonder if I’ll have hair…the answer to that is I wore Linda that day. 

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I recognize a lady from the day of my positive diagnosis, she has waist long straight blonde hair, and her name is Jan. Before we start our first session we swap phone numbers, book times to attend our second session together. We become allies from thence forth.

Dave leaves me with Jan and will return an hour later. Jan and I sit, get lined up and chat, we take each other’s mind off what we’re doing, the treatment surges through our veins.

I do feel the ants crossing my forehead and chest. Dave arrives just as the Chemo finishes. I say goodbye to Polly and Jan. Say see you next time.

Dave drives me home; I feel like crap and promptly burst into tears on Ridgeway hill. Dave carries on driving me home.

 It just isn’t fair, what have I done to deserve this.

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During that first week, I drink lots of water. Mum has brought me a water filter jug that is by the side of my bed. It is constantly refilled, as I drink to flush out the toxins,

I am wiped out, no energy, and sleepy. I spend hours drifting in and out of sleep. Below our bedroom drones the daily hubbub of life, mum cooks, washes. Irons. I feel left out, and useless.

Through the constant care, and the fabulous cooking skills of mom, I rally daily, each day feeling a little stronger. I must be feeling better, I think to myself as daytime TV is boring me rigid.

I lay in bed dreaming, Kilroy is coming on with Special Birthdays ideas.

Ummm, I think raising my head, Dave’s birthday was coming up, and I wanted to do something unusual.

Kilroy announced” Balloon Rides, Helicopter rides, and Racing days.

That was it! Dave adored The Grand Prix; I would arrange a Race Day!

Our next door neighbour Mark, a work colleague of Dave’s had done a Race Day, I would pop round and get the address and info when back on my feet. Feeling Smug, I curl over and guess what, promptly throw up.

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The next day feeling better, I dress and pop round next door. Mark is at work, but his wife Sue gives me the address for Race Days. The place is a bit too far out for us so, I wait for our house to clear and phone Dave’s mother. 

Bett tells me there is a place called “Castle Combe Racecourse” about 15 minutes

away from them. We could go up and stay with them; also, Rosie and Katie could come. It would be a good break for all of us.

I phone Castlecombe Racecourse, and book. I wanted Dave’s birthday, but this was fully booked, they would send me the booking vouchers, that way Dave could choose a date that would work. The brochures arrive a few days later, Elm’s brings me the letter, we sit cuddled up in bed and read. They offer 4×4 drives, skid pan days, Racing Days. Em’s and I think the Racing Day is perfect. Em’s passes me the phone; I read them my credit card details. Em’s and I hug were so excited.

I can now relax.

George and Emily love to cook, so when he comes home from school, we set about making Dave’s birthday cake, we have a laugh measuring, mixing and making a general mess. George and Em’s divide the empty bowl to lick out the bowl after; we look at our work of art, which resembles a Frisbee. Well, it’s the thought that counts.

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Dave Birthday-05.02.11

The first chinks of light appear through our curtains, it’s so quiet, I can hear hushed whispering the rustle of paper, then a slight punch up begins in the hall; I have to laugh at my little treasures they try so hard. I count to myself, 10, 9, 8,7….

“Happy birthday Dave!” in bounds a leaping gazelle in the shape of my daughter, closely followed by a crumpled George. Their arms are laden with little pressies, all

at various stages of presentation. Arguments ensue, of what pressies should be opened first. Emily wins.

Dave isn’t yet fully awake; his hair is looking punk rockerish, he bares the resemblance of a rabbit caught in the headlights. Eventually it dawns on him, his birthday has arrived.

“Thanks Ems,” deodorant.” George and Em pass the next present between them-a clue to the up and coming scenario.

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Dave whoops, “It’s a toy Formula 1 Racing Car”, and kisses both Ems and George, Ems grins, George scowls be tending he didn’t enjoy the attention, but did really. A silly boy grin covers Dave’s face, between you and me I think he has twigged.

“Now my pressie!” I hand him the gold envelope. Dave opens.

I think he’s going to burst; the kids roll around the bed laughing, Dave nearly goes to leap out of the bed, I restrain, reminding him of his o, natural state. He punches the air instead. Once first excitement has subsided go through possible dates for him to book. Bett and Norman phones to wish a Happy Birthday.

George dashes off downstairs returning with the cooked Frisbee, and we all munch on slices of chocolate cake for breakfast.

 Happy days.

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 Chemo 2.

Okay. Now my hair has started to fall out. As agreed, Dave that evening gets out the hair clippers. I am given a number 2 crew cut; I have chosen this action, as hair falling out is distressing, so quick restyle is my solution. I now wear a woolly hat to cover the fact that I’m now “A bald Bird!”

My Chemo appointment.

Jan fellow patient is already there, we look at each other and nod…you too, and we are now crew cut twins. We go for our Chemo; our respective other halves leave the ward together.

Dr Dean checks my blood, to make sure I’m not Anaemic or any other thing to cause stop of treatment, all is fine. I get my drugs…ants crawl up my nose and across my forehead.

I’m on a promise today, after treatment we are going to Mc Donald’s for lunch. This is a hit, and always from now on a stop we make. I tell Dave I’m going straight to bed this time, as trying to stay up doesn’t pay dividends. I crash.                                            

 Mary Poppins alias mum works her miracles in the kitchen. I get up and join my family for tea. I work (I don’t have an appetite a present) through the wonderfully nutritious meal before me, I drink gallons of water. I try and make light conversation with all around me.                       

Then I have an almighty urge…… being toiletry for a minute have to dash to the loo for a number 2. I haven’t been for what seems like an eternity…ah bliss I never thought I would so enjoy a poo. Exhausted from the excitement I go to bed. (Get wonderful stuff from Doctors later that week, Lactose a blessing for the bound.)

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Downstairs mum continues cooking, singing her God Songs at high decibels, she makes me chuckle as I lay in bed, she warbles away merrily to herself, and Em’s and George are a captive audience. I doze off. Next thing I know it is dark. The house is quiet, my husband lays cuddled up to me. Mother of the washing, ironing, and comforter of children has gone to her own bed across the way, God Bless you mum how I would ever manage without you. Thank you for all your hard work and never doubting spirit that supports mine when I’m doubting.

The following day, Dave goes to Bristol to see his girls. This gives me alone time with my babies. We share this time with mum and go over to the holiday house. We go for a short walk, and then have tea. Play board games and chill.

Dave returns Sunday night, I nag and moan,” What if I dint make it?!” Scenario’s, he is patients itself going through my prognosis. We go to bed mentally shattered.

In the morning I think I’ve found a lump in my right breast, phone Jan Breast care Nurse, she will check it for me after I’ve had my third Chemo-here I go again checking, checking…

ISBN:9798662933149

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