* CHEMO 4 DONE - 2 TO GO..

Dear Fellowship,

4 down and just 2 to go! I believe this equates to being two thirds of the way through, despite maths not being a strong point. Wahay! This drug promises to be a bit more hardcore apparently - if I could sum up my chat with 'no sugar-coating for VC' Dr Dear yesterday, my key take-out would be that the last drug was all about managing nausea (which I did quite well with the help of an indecent amount of anti-nausea pills) and this one is all about managing pain - uh oh...

Plus just when I was getting smug about my re-growing hair and my eyelashes and eyebrows remaining intact, she said casually "oh yeah, this drug will take those"... Ho hum. 

The pics below, as well as confusing the devil out of all passer-bys - "why are those idiots posing inappropriately outside a cancer centre?" - also show the delightful and massive ice mitts that I have to wear for these next three rounds to apparently protect my lovely Shellac manicure or more probably, fingernails. My priorities may not be in quite the right order…

Imagine sticking your hands into a freezer for 90 mins and that should give you an understanding of why my facial expression is less than joyful. Reminded me of that time a bunch of us were boarding in Banff in Canada in -40 (because we were young, thought we were hardcore but were actually largely stupid), got up to the top of the first run of the day and came down with frostbite, snapped bindings, tears in our eyes and a lesson learnt. Whereas that time we sacked it off and stumbled home defeated by the elements in Banff, today was the equivalent of getting back on the ski lift and going back up. Without gloves. Good times.

But I digress. Amazing to have my bro and mum there today on Team Cheem #4 - not sure Jon really knew where he was (jetlag, he claims) but Mum did really well, only a couple of sad 'mum watching daughter have chemo' moments that made us both well up momentarily before regaining our British composure in true Connerty-esque style and deciding to laugh at my massive ice jazz hands instead!

Thank you for your lovely messages of support - as ever, they spur me on to power through these chemo sessions more than you know. smile emoticon

So, today is done - another milestone reached and passed, and as always, I'll take the next few days easy with my loungewear, box sets and family before emerging, fully rejuvenated hopefully, on the weekend! 

See you on the flipside...

Love,

VCx

* WHO WORE IT BEST? THE CLAN MEETS WIGGY

Dear Fellowship,

It is always better to laugh than go 'waaaaah' so on the eve of evil-sounding chemo #4, I thought I'd share this pic of my loving family getting involved in some comedy wig action at the weekend. 

My bro liked Wiggy's work a bit too much, as you can probably tell from the pouting. As for Mum, there really are no words. Largely as we couldn't get any out from laughing too hard...

See you on the flipside of #4, my friends!

Love,

VC x

The clan wig up. 

* THE CONNERTY CLAN FINALLY HIT AUSSIE SOIL

Dear Fellowship,

So after 4 long months, the family are finally here! Well, half of them - my mum, my sis and niece arrived on Sunday after a predictably hideous 24 hour flight to Oz.

I'd banked on some serious tear-shedding at the airport but as always, nothing ran according to plan. Mum got whizzed past me, waving frantically from her wheelchair by a well-meaning steward before I could even say hi. At the same time, my niece Molly launched herself at me and my one good arm, thus making for the most lopsided hug ever while my poor sister struggled behind her, trying desperately to steer the overloaded trolley through the chaos of Arrivals. Gratifyingly, Liz was crying but I'm not sure whether that was about me or just the weight of the bags…

Either way, it's sensational to have them here in the flesh at last, even if they're all asleep like jetlagged narcoleptics every 10 minutes. Mol has only been here 3 days and already she's worn a wig, been pecked by a parrot in the Botanical Gardens, bought some Uggs, hung out on Bondi, swum in the sea and found a cockroach sitting on her jar of Nutella. No one can accuse me of not ticking off all the tourist boxes while they're here. Apart from the wig-wearing - that was an extra treat. Friday, my bro Jon also arrives from London and we're all off to beautiful Jervis Bay for the weekend - I expect he should be awake and just about ready to add some conversational value by about Sunday afternoon…

Meanwhile, Chemo #4 is next Tuesday and a new cocktail of drugs beckons. Mixed reviews about this one - Dr Dear told me a lot of women 'struggle' with this one (thank you, Dear) but the chick in the chemo ward who actually dishes it out reckons it's easier than the first. Who knows? Much like the last one, I'm not really paying much attention to the potential side effects. All I know is I have to wear jazzy little ice gloves during treatment to protect my fingernails (eek!) and that this drug mix could make me blow up like an almighty puffa fish - yikes. Rest assured I'll be exercising full editorial control over any photos taken over the next 9 weeks whilst hurriedly inventing the 'non fat face' filter on Instagram. 

Met my radiation oncologist last week - she was jolly nice. She's called Sue but obviously, like all my other specialists she cannot simply be just called Sue, because that would be of no amusement to me whatsoever. So let us call her Sunburn Sue. Because quite frankly, she is going to give me the worst sunburn I've ever had. Even worse than that time in Gran Canaria when I got so sunburnt I couldn't wear a bra or hug anyone for a week. Or on that school trip when I spent the majority of it crying in my room, covered in Calamine lotion. Sigh. 

Anyway, Sunburn Sue and I had a nice chat about the radiation plan which sounds pretty intense - basically they stick me in a room with a radiation machine, run away and blast me with radiation while they have a cup of tea in the canteen. Or something. Every day for 6 weeks. Wowsers. I will be auditioning to join The Avengers after this level of radiation exposure. Predictably, Limpy gave her some cause for concern - radiation and damaged nerves are not the best of mates apparently - so my dosage has been slightly lowered to accommodate the much-maligned limb. Yet again, Limpy elbowing his way into the limelight, as always.

On that note, Limpy has actually been making considerable progress over the last few weeks, thank God - I can now open a spring-locked bin chute and I even drove for the first time since January yesterday, much to the horror of everyone in the car with me. They were very patient on the whole and once I'd turned the music up loud enough to drown out the screams, it was fine. The problem now is that, after 4 months, whilst Limpy's nerves are returning, the muscles in my arm are non-existent and the joints are like those of a rusty old Tin Man.

My physios - ridiculously I have three because I can't decide who I like best and because I'm terribly British, I don't want to let any of them down so keep booking repeat appointments with them all - have meanwhile been trying to help me avoid the perils of a frozen shoulder. I have no idea what that is really but it sounds bad and they all have serious physio faces when they say the words 'frozen shoulder', so I'm subjecting myself to weekly sessions where they essentially beat me up for an hour in return for cold hard cash. But at least the arm is coming back - my sister just told me about a friend of a friend of hers who suffered the same thing post-op and her poor arm is still dead, 6 YEARS LATER. Gulp. 

Thank you all as always for continuing to check in and check up on me - please know that your messages never go unappreciated or unnoticed, even if it sometimes takes me days to think "Gaaaaah! I never replied!!". Perhaps this is the chemo brain people talk about. But more likely, it's just me being a little bit useless… :)

Love,

VC x

* BOXING IN BONDI POST-CHEMO. YIKES.

Dear Fellowship,

Finally! I'm a motivational tool for people who like exercising and stuff! Soon I shall bring out my own one-armed fitness video! It shall be immense! 

Some kind words below from my long-suffering friend and new trainer Rich, written in an attempt to guilt his proper paying clients out of bed and down to the beach at 6am for daily training. Good luck with that, Richard Overstall. 

https://www.facebook.com/bondipersonaltraining/posts/1581739088752103

I'm not loving the pics - the combo of cap, baldy head and angry little punching face is not my finest of looks - but I've put my vanity to one side momentarily in the hope that I look back at these in a few months and say 'blimey, day 3 post chemo #3 and I was kickboxing on Bondi Beach. What an absolute eejit'.

Love,

VCx

* CHEMO 3 DONE! HALFWAY HOUSE!

Dear Fellowship,

We've officially reached chemo halfway house, my friends. Wahay! 

Round 3 done and dusted and appropriately dramatic cyclone warning weather to mark the occasion! Hence the blurry photo and me shouting 'just take the bloody thing and let's get outta here!'...

Thanks for all your love and support so far - it's been immense and heartwarming and delightful and has without a doubt helped me get through this first chemo trilogy. Too many 'ands' in that sentence for my liking but I'm letting it go...

Only another 9 weeks and chemo will be history. 

Special thanks to my buddy Ryan for coming along for the 4hr ride at such short notice - you're a star!

Love,

VCx

* MARATHONS, MUM & THE MIDWAY POINT

Dear Fellowship,

Way back in Jan, when I was just getting my confused face and curly bonce around all this brand new cancer shizzle, my friend Jo messaged me. 

She told me she had signed up to run the Great Wall of China Marathon in May (as you do if you are 98% mad and enjoy climbing up 5,164 steps for fun) and that in the wake of my cancery news, she wanted to raise money for a charity of my choice. What an amazing gesture from a top bird.

The Great Wall of China Marathon madness

I thought long and hard about which charity to choose. The obvious choice would have been a breast cancer charity I guess, but in the end, I asked her to run on behalf of the MS Society. 

My amazing mum Lyn was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis in 2004. A radiographer by trade, she had enough medical knowledge to know what her symptoms probably meant before she officially got the results. Her four kids on the other hand were totally oblivious and pretty terrified when she told us - we didn't know what MS stood for, what it looked like or what the future held for us all and I suspect this is still the case for lots of families across the globe. 

More than ten years on and Mum is still doing a monumental job of refusing to bow down to MS and its ongoing effects. Alongside my dad, she too is a shining example of how to get up every day and just get on with life, regardless of what gets thrown at us along the way. 

Having Limpy (literally) hanging around for the last 3 months has been fairly annoying but I always believed the feeling and movement in my arm would eventually return which I'm happy to say (after a fair amount of physio and a number of stern talking-to's) is thankfully starting to happen. It seems poor old Limpy's days are finally numbered! 

I'm lucky though - by comparison, MS is a degenerative disease and sufferers just have to tolerate and adapt to their ongoing and worsening symptoms. There is still no cure and like cancer, early detection and preventative research is critical.

Over the last few months, lots of you have asked me if I need anything or if there's anything you can do, which has been tremendous. There really isn't anything I'm lacking - your support and generosity has already been overwhelming - but if you do have a few spare quid or if MS is as close to your heart as it is to mine, then I would be hugely grateful if you could find time to click the link below and sponsor Jo and her friend Lucie.

https://www.justgiving.com/Jo-Scott4/?utm_source=Facebook&utm_medium=fundraisingpage&utm_content=Jo-Scott4&utm_campaign=pfp-share

Never one to let her MS dictate or hamper her plans, Mum has been over to Australia twice in the last few years to visit and is coming out again in less than a fortnight with the rest of my Connerty clan. I cannot WAIT to see them all descend onto Australian soil (there will doubtless be tears at Sydney Airport on the 3rd of May - not from me obviously, I'm hardcore) although I fear, currently looking out of the window at torrential rain, that I may spend most of the time explaining to my disappointed niece that despite rumours to the contrary, it isn't actually sunny in Oz all the time…

The clan, then and now(ish)

Meanwhile it's Chemo #3 tomorrow, the last of this current drug cocktail and therefore the official halfway point in the old chemo treatment plan. Boom! My usual man-slaves are taking a well-earned break in both Europe and the slightly less glamorous Melbourne so I have drafted in my friend Ryan as a replacement who's just popped over from the UK for work. What better end to his trip than 4 hours in a cancer centre watching me get chemo'd?! Thanks Rhino! :)

I still feel really good at the moment so fingers crossed that this continues beyond tomorrow. Meanwhile, I have Netflix, Apple TV, Foxtel and a brand new 50" TV (it's like having the Moonlight Cinema in my living room - ridiculous) to keep me occupied during this restful week - frankly, I may never leave the house again…

See you on the flipside of Chemo #3!

Love,

VCx

* BIRTHDAYS & A BIG WIG NIGHT OUT

Dear Fellowship,

Below is one of my favourite photos of me and my dad. I think we were attempting to take my first passport photo - who knows what Mum was thinking, letting us two clowns wander unsupervised into a photo booth though the fact I still have the original set of 4 photos means a re-shoot probably took place…

RMC & VC - 70's selfie

We lost the inimitable RMC, his razor-sharp wit and eclectic sense of style (he remains the only man in the world who could somehow make wearing yellow trousers seem entirely acceptable in modern society) to stomach cancer in 2002. 

He would (no doubt with great reluctance) have turned 72 today and it's testament to the incredible man he was and the gaping hole he left in the lives of those that knew and loved him that 13 years feels like no time at all.

Unsurprisingly, I've thought about Dad a lot over the last few months, both in terms of wishing that he was still around to lend a comforting paternal shoulder during my occasional 'waaaah' moments but also because I've come to realise that his own outrageously high levels of style, dignity and humour set me the best ever example of how to approach this current cancery challenge. 

I'm not sure I'm actually achieving all three of these elements in equal measure right now but a girl's got to have something to aim for, right?! 

With that in mind, on Saturday night, Wiggy and I ventured boldly out to Bondi for my friends Matt, Rob and Ryan's joint birthday bash. I was a bit anxious about Wiggy's first evening engagement, especially in the presence of a bevy of twenty-something Bondi beauties whose swishy shiny hair probably hadn't spent the day casually plonked on a polystyrene head but I took a deep breath, manned up, wigged up, did a few stretches with Limpy and pushed off to the beach. 

With the boys - Wiggy's big night out

The party was sensational (Happy Birthday, boys!), the Bondi beauties were delightful and Wiggy went down a storm. Almost too well, actually. I'm sure I could feel the Bouff bristling in rage at the roots every time someone said "Oh my god, I LOVE the hair!". I had kind of assumed that most people knew that I was wigged up so when I bumped into the singer from my friends' wedding at the bar, I wasn't overly surprised when he also said "I LOVE the hair!". Things took a slightly more confusing turn when he then went on to say "It must have taken you ages to straighten it". Hmmm. 

Now, there were two very clear paths for me to consider taking at that point: 

1. Smile sweetly and agree that yes indeed, it DID take a while to straighten and walk away with dignity, style and good humour
intact.

2. Be me. 

So I leant in, shouting over the music "I haven't straightened it! It's a wig! I'm having chemo! I'm almost as bald as you are under here! I'm also boiling to death but that could just be the hot flushes from all the hormone drugs I'm on! I'll have a fresh lime and soda please!". 

Then I watched as his innocent little face froze in horror as the cancer penny slowly dropped. Ho hum. Brand new levels of awkward reached in 8 seconds with dignity and style nowhere to be seen. Must try harder next time. Sigh. 

In other news, it's been nearly a fortnight and I think I've been lucky enough to have so far escaped chemo #2 relatively unscathed again. Some people, god love 'em, do like to continually remind me it's cumulative but so far the anti-nausea drugs seem to be doing their job brilliantly and I'm not feeling too wiped out at the moment, although I suspect not drinking, not being at work combined with my little daytime nanna naps are all doing their bit. In your face, chemo! 

Somewhat more bizarre is that the Bouff, despite it now officially being Day 33, is still showing no signs of moving out anytime soon. I suspect the appearance of the wig has stirred up some competitive follicular spirit - not sure the ginger 'Annie Lennox circa 1983' look I'm sporting is a deadset long-term winner but go, the stubborn ringlets! 

Finally, my Australian citizenship application was officially lodged today, 7 years to the very day since I left the UK for unknown foreign shores with just a rucksack, my CV and a winning smile. The whole citizenship process normally takes about 3 months so hopefully I should be able to celebrate the end of my treatment in August as a fully-fledged Aussie with a brand new passport and a clean bill of health! 

More importantly, Wiggy will be immortalised in all her shiny, swishy glory within the pages of that Aussie passport for the next 10 years. Yikes. Personally, I cannot WAIT for 10 long, torturous years of shouting "For crying out loud, I'm not Jason bloody Bourne - it's a wig, you fools!!" at the confused faces and raised eyebrows of every customs officer I meet. Good times. Laden with style, dignity and humour of course. smile emoticon

Big love to my family today and Happy 72nd Birthday, Dad - I miss you, your yellow trousers and your unapologetic love for an 80's classic track every single day.

Love, 

VCx

Dad and the infamous yellow trousers on the golf course