Oestrogen: can’t live with her, can’t live without her

Oestrogen really is my nemesis. Left to run free she promotes cancerous cells in my body; show her the door and my body ceases to function properly. It’s one relentlessly exhausting and dysfunctional relationship.

For the last four months, I’ve had increasingly bad pain in my left shoulder. I first noticed it after my polyp removal op in February and thought maybe they’d had me in an awkward position. Over subsequent months it got worse and worse and I finally went to see a physiotherapist at the beginning of May.

Initially, the physio thought it might be residual effects of whiplash I’d received in October 2020, when I slipped on some wet leaves and banged my head. Eight sessions in, though, and that doesn’t seem to be the case - at least not entirely. Certainly, the treatment has relieved the tension in my neck - as has giving up work! – but the pain of moving my shoulder shows no sign of abating.

Basically, it now seems I have ‘menopausal adhesive capsulitis’ or ‘frozen shoulder.’ Bastards.

Turns out that little fecker, Oestrogen, is the WD-40 of the body. Without it, some women find their soft connective tissues go brittle and hard. In fact, Oestrogen impacts every aspect of joint health including the bones, muscles, cartilage and ligaments.  

This capsulitis is so common in peri-menopausal and menopausal women that the Japanese even have a colloquial name for it: "goju kata" (50-year-old shoulder). Gee, thanks for that.

Frankly, it’s a bloody nightmare. One of the treatments is hormone therapy, which I clearly can’t have, so we’re going to see about getting a cortisone injection directly into the soft tissue to reduce the inflammation.

It really is excruciatingly painful and incredibly limiting in terms of what I can physically do. I am finding it pretty upsetting. Hopefully the symptoms can be eradicated or, at least minimised, or I will soon need to change my car to an automatic. Getting my manual car into reverse gear can sometimes bring tears to my eyes …

Sorry, not sorry!

One thing I’m definitely NOT crying about, though, is jacking in work! Despite my physical maladies, mentally and emotionally I feel my life has entered a new and more liberated phase.

Last week I went into the City for the first time in over six months, had a farewell lunch with my lovely team, and handed back my phone and laptop. It was incredibly bittersweet being back in the office and temporarily feeling ‘part of something’ again but stepping away for the sake of my mental and physical health is absolutely the right thing to do.

Because my energy levels are still far from being at the levels that they were before Christmas. A lot has happened in just a few months, not least three operations and a crash into surgical menopause. Even without the cancer bit, I think most people would be a bit tired!

So, while I am trying to plan and give structure to what could otherwise become quite empty and unproductive days, I’m also giving myself some latitude to just rest up. The fatigue can be very unpredictable. Just a short walk down to the supermarket and back can require a recuperative catnap.

Nonetheless, (now I am fully vaccinated), I do have some activities and UK-based trips planned: Glasgow, Jersey, Devon … with several more pending. So, if you’re free for lunch, dinner or drinks, in the coming weeks or months, do let me know. The occasional walk may also be agreeable but I do insist on regular tea/scone breaks … for medical reasons, obviously.

I’m also really enjoying (if that’s the right word) the hour I have once a fortnight talking to other ladies through the Maggie’s Centre about their experience of cancer. They really are such an amazing bunch. I am constantly surprised, moved and impressed but the candour, humour and intelligence with which they speak. We laugh, we cry … it’s an incredibly humbling experience at times.

And it also makes me remember just how incredibly blessed and lucky I am. Some of these young women have terminal diagnoses, unsympathetic employers and/or acute financial worries. I have none of that. I face challenges but I really have no complaints.

So, I continue to look forward: to the summer and to the future.

Kate x

A fresh new chapter in a whole new book

Well, it’s finally public and official ... I’m giving up work (at least for a bit).

I’m one of those annoying and incredibly fortunate people who has never been unemployed. I went straight to a job from university and have continued to transition from one role directly to another.

Apart from extended medical absences due to major surgery and cancer treatment (2012 and this year), I have worked continuously for 26 years. And to what end? To become very comfortably cash rich, yet incredibly time poor. To have money in the bank ... that I end up spending on getting other people to do the jobs that I never have the time or energy to do!

So, I’m not just pressing the brake ... I’m turning the engine completely off. I want to enjoy the silence and really take the time to take in and absorb where I am, and how I got there, before I decide where to go next.

That all sounds quite profound, doesn’t it? In reality, we all know that any contemplation of the universe will also be interspersed with quite a lot of mundane ‘life laundry’ that will finally get attention and probably even more television watching. I suspect I will soon know the ITV3 daytime schedule off by heart ...

Nonetheless, I feel like a massive weight has lifted from my shoulders. No more keeping on, keeping on ...

Given my incredibly risk averse nature, some people might think this is a brave/reckless move. It’s really not. Without wanting to sound crass, while I am jumping into the unknown, my years of financial prudence mean I am doing it with a fairly secure financial safety net - so Phoebe-the-cat won’t be chowing down on budget kibble just yet.

If the last few years (indeed months) have taught me anything it’s that none of us know what’s coming round the corner or how long we might be here. And I, for one, still have a lot of living to do ... and a loft to tidy(!) ... so I need to stop faffing around and reassess my priorities.

As one door closes, I’m confident several more will start to swing open ...

Crossroads ...

Hello. I'm back. I know I’ve not posted for a few weeks but there have been big decisions to make and a lot of life to try and get moving again.

I know the word ‘crossroads’ will probably evoke very different things for people depending on how old they are. For some it might be dodgy motel-based soap operas, while for others it might be Blazin’ Squad or Britney Spears.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, I’ve reached what I think is a turning point in my life. As you already know, 9.5 years ago - at the age of 38 - I was diagnosed with Grade 2 breast cancer. Now, at 47 (teetering on the verge of 48), I was diagnosed with Grade 1 endometrial cancer too. Having cancer once under 50 is a definitely a bit shit but having it twice is really taking the piss.

Thankfully, I seem to have bounced back … again. Nonetheless, if I didn’t take this watershed to really question how I’ve been living my life and what I might want from it in the future, then I think a lot of people would be surprised.

This was brought home to me quite starkly when I returned to work. For the most part, I’ve felt very supported but there was also an abrupt dose of realism when someone candidly asked me in my first week: “why did you come back?” It was totally without malice and a very good question. Why had I decided to come back?

The fact is I have always been a creature of obligation and habit. I’m not a rule breaker. A bit cheeky, perhaps, but definitely not a rebel of any note. I hate to let anybody down and to think that I might not be able to meet the expectations of others, or more importantly of myself, is something that really does not sit well.

So, I’ve been given a lot of food for thought. I went back to work because I thought it was expected of me but I need to be realistic. I need to give myself time to heal: physically, mentally and emotionally. I’m still less than 10 weeks out of (yet another) major surgery and find I get very tired when sitting at a desk and in virtual meetings all day.

I’ve also started to question my personal motivations: my ikigai, or reason for being. The ideal, of course, as people tell me is to get paid to do something that you really love. I don’t disagree … but the chances of someone paying me to watch Poirot and eat biscuits are disappointingly slim.

It’s all a question of balance. And now is the time to try and get some.

Mindful of this fact, I’ve been taking advantage of some of the support options that are available. The most immediately accessible is my local Maggie’s Centre at Charing Cross Hospital in Hammersmith. Maggie’s is a wonderful charity that provides free support to those affected by cancer at centres across the UK. I used their facilities back in 2012 and to go back and talk to one of their advisers was really helpful.

In particular, I signed up to a short programme of workshops for ‘younger women’ with cancer. I was pleasantly surprised to hear that I was still eligible to be included but, in truth, I am the oldest woman on the call by far.

Nonetheless, it has helped me validate some of my feelings and also helped me to realise just how very far I’ve come. Some of the ladies are still very much in the thick of it: angry at their bodies for going wrong and wondering whether they will ever be able to step out, post treatment, from the cancer cloud and regain a sense of normality.

And, fingers crossed, they will. As I said to them, in the vast majority of cases, developing cancer is just shitty bad luck. That’s the tough reality. But over time – as I and many others have – they will reach a place of acceptance. ‘Real life’ will resume … it might just be a little bit different to the one they had before.

It’s advice I need to follow as well. Sometimes changes are forced upon us but we can choose to make them too. So that’s where I’m at … stood at a major life junction and trying to decide which way to go next. It’s exciting. I think.