To all my loved ones, friends, fabulous rockstars, "my ride or die" - so to speak, I'm still going, I'm just not going at the speed of a fully functioning Fabulous Rockstar, more like Mick Jagger form than Adam Levine, let's say.
I have been discharged from Palazzo Palliative, as you probably know. It has gotten to the point that my Team believe more regular interludes in hospital would be recommendable, so we shall see how that pans out.
I am at the lowest I've ever been in my disease, yes, I've been told I'm dying before, but my body has never actually felt like it's dying, now, it feels like it's dying. WTF how would I know what dying feels like? I suppose I'm just guessing, but I'd say this is a pretty good guess of what it feels like.
Whilst in hospital I had a urinary catheter inserted, that was fun, I've had many a catheter and I have a very bad history with them, this time was no different to others.
I had to rush to the toilet to do number two's.......small moment of appreciation for the bowel movement that is so rare........back to the story, so I grabbed all my bits and pieces, catheter, pain driver, I was connected to the IV, so I was very weighed down. I jumped up and the next thing I felt like I'd been coat hangered, my catheter tube got caught around the end of the bed and I slammed face front/belly front onto the floor. I could hear Mum had run into the bathroom and was shouting if there was blood, was I ok? The emergency alarm was hit by my nurse and everyone ran from all angles. After assessing the situation they picked me up, the catheter had dislodged and let's just say I was in a bit of pain. Vicki my ever loving nurse removed the catheter for me and disaster was averted, that makes it four times I've now popped a catheter balloon, by pulling it out, now that's skill. Dad, it wasn't your fault, I tripped.
Unbelievably my bladder started working again, I must have nine bladders, everyone expected I probably would be spending my remaining time in palliative and not getting back out, but, I am sitting in a holiday house that my Aunty and Granny have organised. I went to bed to the sound of waves crashing on the shore last night and as I prayed to God last night, to give me the strength I needed to wake in the morning, I woke to the same crashing waves, life is beautiful and that first breath in the morning is fucking amazing.
I am probably under 30 kilos now and my appetite and nausea does not allow for eating, two mouthfuls and I'm done. I have been told to stop focusing on eating, as loss of appetite is part of this process, you get tired, you lose appetite and then you pass, but seriously who the fuck could just accept that? Stop eating, let yourself die, how about you stop showering, stop breathing, exactly, three days in to a sweaty summer and I'll bet you'd be itching to get in the shower.
I get it, what can you say to a person who is literally wasting away, dying before your eyes? See you in the flip side, just doesn't seem to cut it.
Thanks for the love Fabulous Rockstars and please don't be concerned with my blog post intervals, I promise I'll keep you up to date, just not every day. Can I also ask that you spare a thought/prayer/vibe for my parents, loved ones and family, as they're going through this journey, just as I am.
Stay Fabulous Rockstars ❤🤘🏼
A short blog for a short update ❤🤘🏼
Last night I was faced with a dilemma, you see I've been placed back in hospital, back to the ward that insists they're there to make you feel comfortable and to try to reduce symptoms and pain. They are not always there to prepare you for the scariest time in a person's life....."death" and I don't give a shit if you say this is not scary, it's simply part of the process of life, we all live knowing eventually we will die, well yeah, we all live knowing at some point we're probably going to need root canal therapy, but I've never seen anyone skip into a dental surgery, alright maybe a masochist, but believe me this shit is hard.
Too sick to cry, to weak to move, constant vomiting of bile, too weak to get myself out of bed-down the stairs- too weak to get in the car, too many tumours to pee and the list goes on. My Pall nurse made me come in, she inserted the urinary catheter, always a pleasant experience, you'll never complain about a Pap smear or a swift kick in the knackers again once you've had the pleasure of a urinary catheter being inserted when you haven't peed in 20 hours, let's just say it definitely doesn't compare to a west coast party.
Yesterday I looked, but more importantly felt that I was on death's door. I've been at so-called "deaths door" so many times that they know it's me by my knock, but I've never actually felt that my body was giving in, I never believed it was "my time". Last night came and it was time for people to say goodbye and with more than generous bear hugs from each of my family members came that so called dilemma, "I'll see you tomorrow", my reply "yep, I'll see you tomorrow", my actual thought, 'Will I really see you tomorrow?'
Something we say everyday without a second thought, because hey, tomorrow is taken for granted, there's always tomorrow....isn't there? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but sadly tomorrow is not a promise, it's a gift and that's only if you're lucky enough to receive it.
It's a frigging horrible feeling to say goodbye to someone you love and not know of you'll ever see them again, those related to armed forces, those related to police officers, security guards and so on, I salute you and I only wish for you Fabulous Rockstars you never have to be placed in a situation like this, because it's truly one of the most heartbreaking places you can be put in and nobody deserves that. Make sure your hugs are genuine and so too is your love. Stay Fabulous Rockstars ❤🤘🏼
Crying has become more frequent, fear has become more ferocious, pain has become a part of daily life, discomfort has become almost unbearable due to my bloated stomach suffocating my lungs and my bloated legs feeling like I'm walking on pain censored cushions, more food is coming back up than going down, my appearance could be best described as an 8 month pregnant skeleton with tree stumps for legs, doesn't that just wanna make you swipe right boys?
So it would seem this bastard has got me. I have fought since September 2013, from the very moment I was told it was back and I would be lucky to make months, I fought and I fought hard. All of the times I was told you won't see tomorrow, you won't see Christmas, I defied the odds and a few clinicians have had to eat their words.
I've tried my hardest to outrun this bastard, but, not this time, it seems that damn shoelace I tripped over at the 10km line has allowed my killer to catch up. I can feel the air at my back from him swooshing his scythe at me and I'm quite certain one day soon he'll get me, I simply don't have the confidence this time that things will get better, they're not,they're remaining the same or in fact getting worse.
It's been a terribly steep decline in the last few weeks, I feel like I'm in one of those luge things from the Winter Olympics, just racing down hill, with little to no control over what happens and how fast I go. My disease is taking me on this ride with nowhere to go other than down. I keep getting these messages to embrace God or your faith and this whole process will become easier and if I don't accept him into my heart now, he may not accept me into his when it's my time to knock on the pearly white gates; yet another image that's been imprinted in my mind since I was a child.
I cannot help my fear, nor can I control it and nor should people be judgemental about how "I" deal with "My" inevitable death. We are all entitled to deal with this in our own way. There is no right or wrong, if you think Reiki is your path to spiritual healing, good on you or if you're an atheist, who am I to judge you for not believing, when I am unsure myself of my own belief. I know what I want to believe and I so greatly want this unwavering faith and confidence that it will come to fruition.
My symptoms are pretty much the same as they were Sunday, big swollen legs from the cancer stealing my protein from me (there's so much fluid that when I inject my pain relief it pierces little holes allowing fluid to escape and it doesn't stop leaking,it just keeps going, like piercing a water bed) and causing fluid retention, stomach full of cancer and this time bloated with a lot of ascites (a fluid that builds up, due to the disease), I can't eat without regurgitating and my cancer is eating all or any of my nutrients that I'm lucky to ingest.
I know I'm dying, I still haven't accepted it and I'm still scared shitless, but I know I'm closer to death than I've ever been before. This death doesn't just affect me though, it affects all those around me, you fabulous rockstars and others that I come in contact with on a daily basis.
When I was in the hospital, I was surrounded by death and on one occasion I was informing my family that the young guy next door had died overnight and that a lot of the patients were dying, next thing Ava speaks up "Are you dying Lisa?", I didn't know whether to just bite the bullet and I looked at her Mum and Dad to try to sense what they were feeling, so I just blurted out "Yes Bubba, Aunty Lisa is going to die, but remember when I do, I'll be up in the sky at night, I'll be a star and I'll make sure you'll never be scared". Ava listened intently and then she sort of nervously giggled and replied "you're silly Lisa" and I asked "Why?", to which she replied "No Lisa you're not going to be in the sky, because you're going to get better, I want you to get better, so you won't be a star". Out of the mouths of babes, as they say.
I'm now at home struggling every night to organise my pillows and me into a semi comfy position in bed, one that lets me breathe, doesn't make me regurgitate as much, one that allows me to elevate my legs for the swelling and so on and so on. Thank God I don't have a boyfriend, my pillows would seriously see more action than he would.
My bestie Rebecca and her housemate Chuck from Sydney dropped in and spent a couple of nights and Bec and I did our usual, talk for 10 hours and then realise it's bedtime. My friend Nicole popped in, also from Sydney and I got to play with her baby girl and bitch about all the things we hate about humanity, that's what Nicole and I do, we have done in fact since she found out that I had been "intimate" with my boyfriend, which she thought was hilarious at the time, funnily enough I had the same reaction when it happened, just kidding, I'd hate to bruise someone's ego. I mean in reality your first time usually resembles a Tour de France pile up, there's usually no bedroom and often a pile of drunk people cheering you on from the sidelines, first times often aren't the most romantic, at least I can say I had a bed and no onlookers; I was classy. Unfortunately though, I ended up paying for it and I am physically and emotionally drained. I have now asked mum to give me a week without visitors, as I end up doing more than I should. I know I'm like the Queen, I request an audience when I want one.
It's amazing how the world listens sometimes, you ask and you shall receive, as I was tapping away at this blog, I received a phone call from my Pall Doctor.....she's amazing by the way and she advised me that I was able to get my pelvic ascites drained in hospital on Monday and to prevent having to be admitted again I can have a semi permanent catheter inserted, meaning when the fluid returns I can drain the fluid from home. We think there'll be about 7-8 litres drained over a couple of days in hospital. So I'm hoping this will ease my current discomfort, as right now I honestly feel like I looked at Ronda Rousey the wrong way and she's pounced on me in the toilets, EVERY DAY!!!
Anyway upon closing, my friend Bec gave Mum and I a worry doll each, you tell her your worries, put it under your pillow and it takes your worries away. Mum being mum, she heard "wish" doll, so the following morning Miss Ava was in Mums bedroom and saw the doll. Ava asked Mum what the doll was and Mum replied "it's a wish doll bubba, you tell it your wish and it will grant it". Ava picked the doll up and said "I wish that my Nanna was happy and that Lisa's belly gets better". What a beautiful story to wake up to, that kid just rips my heart out.
So fabulous rockstars at the beginning of this blog I was down and out and by the end, although I'm still in the exact same discomfort, my hope has improved, maybe we can all learn something from this and Dad I promise I'm not ready for palliative sedation yet. Stay Fabulous Rockstars ❤🤘🏼
A few photos from the last few days ❤🤘🏼
My name is Lisa Magill and I have been navigating the minefield that is cancer since just months after turning 30, people have been saying to me for years that I should put my thoughts into writing and as time has progressed I thought I had left it too late, well here we are nearly 4 years in and for some unknown reason I've decided to start to write today.