Carla Lunardi

Part 5 - A dimly lit ward and teenage giggles

Sunday 29th Mar Cancer is one of the great levelers of life. It does not discriminate; it does not care if you are young or old. It does not care about your race, gender or socioeconomic background. It does not care if you are fit, healthy or otherwise. It does not care about your plans for the future. Sometimes you get lucky though. Sometimes cancer touches you and you win. Sometimes you prevail. Cancer is also one experience that can bond people together so strongly. It’s kind of like belonging to a special club and only its members can truly understand what it’s like to go through it. Some of the friends that I made during my treatment and in support groups afterwards are still some of the closest friends I have. That is something that I am really grateful for and something that I will cherish until forever. I have a really beautiful memory of one night in hospital when I was sharing a room with another teenager named Fiona. Being in a children’s hospital, it was always extra special to be sharing a room with someone your own age and not a toddler or a baby. We were on the same side of the room and the “privacy” curtain was drawn back so we could see each other. We were both lying on our sides and we were whispering about people we liked. Our whispers and giggles getting louder and louder, to the point that one of the nightshift nurses had to come tell us to be quite. In that instant it was easy to forget that we were both cancer patients. In that moment we were simply teenagers, having a sleepover with what could have easily been a lifelong friend. Fiona was getting close to the end of her treatment when I was about half way through mine. I remember her telling me about a Wish that had been granted for her. Fiona and her mother went on a massive shopping spree at the surf shops in Torquay. They were driven around in a limousine and just generally had an amazing day. Fiona and I used to write to each other once she finished all her treatment. We would write about all sorts of things like stuff at school, people we liked, special events coming up, our latest cancer checkup, and detentions at school (yep plural). When we would write to each other it was never about the big C. It was always about being a teenager first and how our own experience with cancer affected our teenage existence. She knew what I was going through not just as a cancer patient, but as a sixteen year old too. Fiona and I kept in contact after my treatment finished too. At some point after I was out of the hospital system and back into the normality of my own life, Fiona relapsed. By the end of my first term at uni, Fiona passed away. There are certain things that transport me to another time. The Torquay surf shops will forever remind me of Fiona and when I think of her I am instantly taken back to the dimly lit ward in the middle of the night whispering and giggling about the most important thing two 16 year old cancer patients can whisper about… our crushes! Share

Part 4 - Friendships and Fluffy hair

Sunday 22nd Mar While I was having radiation at Peter Mac, I still had to have chemo at the Royal Children’s. I had a slightly weaker dose each time which was less taxing on my body. I was able to physically cope better with the weaker doses. I wasn’t as sick and my hair began to grow back a little. For a little while throughout November I had this tiny amount of stubbly fluff all over my head. It fell out though when the more intensive chemo started again. The only thing worse than losing your hair as a 15 year old is having it grow back and fall out again. On the 26th of November I was in at the Children’s for more scheduled chemo. I had to have tubes in my chest to receive the chemo. Well, on the 26th the nurses flushed some saline into my tubes as part of the normal process before I was hooked up to the chemo. There must have been some type of bug or infection lingering because my body went into shock. I was absolutely freezing even though I was covered in blankets and hot towels. All I wanted to do was go to sleep. This particular night is one of those memories that has really crystal clear parts and parts that are completely blacked out. I remember the room perfectly; where my bed was situated in the room, the light that filled the room during the day. That is all crystal clear. I remember saying that I was cold and not being able to get warm. I remember saying that I just want to sleep. I remember the blackness as I closed my eyes and opening them with doctors and nurses around me. I remember the nurses calling out my name and me thinking to myself, I just want to sleep. Around 2am after being kept awake all night I remember there was talk of taking me to the Intensive Care Unit. I don’t remember much else. I know that eventually I went to sleep and when I woke up in the morning I felt fine. At the time and for a long time after I was frustrated that no one listened to me when I said that I just needed to sleep and I’d be fine. But looking back with a little more clarity and life experience I realise that the medical team quite possibly saved my life that night. Perhaps it was a coping mechanism not to acknowledge the severity of that night. What should have been a relatively short stay in hospital for routine chemo, stretched out to a ten day stay, mainly for antibiotics and observation. The whole ten day stay was fairly eventful compared to previous hospital stays. Challenge had organsised lots of different things during that time, both on and off the ward. They had a couple of musicians come into the ward to perform for us. There was a group in the late 1990s called Taxiride who were a four piece and quite popular at the time. They, along with Mark Lizot (also known as Johnny Diesel or Diesel) came and performed acoustically for the ward. I remember that they cleared out a couple of the beds from one of the rooms and made a little stage area. The patients, our families, nurses and staff members all sat around watching and singing along. Another special Challenge activity around this time was the Challenge Christmas party. Challenge always puts on a really special Christmas party and this was no exception. Somehow I managed to scam my way out of hospital for a few hours to attend. For me though, the highlight of the hospital stay wasn’t having musicians on the ward, or sporting celebrities at the Christmas party. The highlight for me was the night that myself and two other patients stayed up until nearly 2 a.m. chatting and annoying the night shift nurses. M and D were both around my age. Both M and D had a form of Leukemia. I had seen them both around the ward on separate occasions, but I don’t think we were ever all in at the same time. I don’t know what it was about this particular night and honestly, I can’t even remember all of the details. But I remember quite clearly sitting around the nurses’ station with M, D, and the nurses and we were telling jokes and laughing. M was very wise and quick witted. I remember D having a dry sense of humour, still hilarious and quick witted though. I can still see their smiles and hear their laughter. That night cemented our friendship for years. M and I attended each other’s birthdays for the next few years. I still hold dear photos taken at my 17th and at his 21st. We lost touch when I moved away for university, I still remember him and that night fondly though. I stayed in contact with D for a little longer. I can even recall writing to each other over the years. D’s fight was not an easy one. Devastatingly, we said goodbye to D in June of 2005. I still remember the four hour drive to his hometown for his funeral. The songs that were played at his burial will be forever associated with him for me. And I’ll never forget the words that D’s mum said to me at his wake. With her hands firmly around mine and tears in our eyes “It’s so good to see you well, Carla”. Share

Part 3 - It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time.

Sunday 15th Mar Share

Part 3 - It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time.

Sunday 15th Mar Share

Part 2 - Losing my hair... but finding myself... Haha no. Not yet anyway.

Sunday 8th Mar I wish I could say that through losing my hair, I found myself. And maybe eventually that happened but not when my hair first started falling out. I did not cope well at all.  Share