No. Not that sort!!
It has just occurred to me that two of the most dangerous causes of cancer are exposure to harsh chemicals and radiation. Bizarrely both of these are used to cure it too!
Random thought. Sorry.
What I was actually going to write about was radiotherapy...
I have now had my planning meeting and have my list of appointments. As well as three new tattoos! They are barely visible, in fact many of my moles are bigger than them. They are in a laser guided line across my chest - one down on the left side of my ribcage, one on my breastbone (ouch) and one on the right side of my ribcage.
SO. The radiotherapy starts on 8th November and is Monday to Friday until 12th December and all bar one appointment are within 15 minutes of 11am. Done by Christmas. So the journey will have taken eight months and two days from the date of diagnosis on 10th April.
That is not quite the end - five years of tablets follow but hey, I can live with that.
And that is what I intend to do. Live.
Thursday, 18 October 2012
Monday, 8 October 2012
Coming through
Tomorrow marks the beginning of my lowest immunity spell following chemo.
It also hopefully marks the last immunity boosting jab I have to inflict on myself.
That's right.
The complete needle phobic, who has been known to feel faint at the sight of a needle on screen, has survived her way through 41 of the required 42 immunity boosting injections that she has had to carry out on herself.
This is as big an achievement as getting through the chemo. Not to mention the 7 canullas that have been inserted in veins (ouch), the endless blood withdrawals (some more painful than others), injections (never fun) and sundry other needles (not dismissing the anaesthetic at the beginning - ooh no, that was another canulla) that have been wafted around in my vicinity for the past five months...
Yes. The more on the ball ones of you will have realised that I had 6 cycles of chemo but 7 canullas. Let's not forget the one they put in to rehydrate me after the infamous, near-pickling, first cycle of chemo.
I have, in an act of pure rebellion, today stripped off the dark nail varnish and replaced it with sparkly pink. I did apply three coats though so it will hopefully still act as a light block if it is still needed - I tried to check with the Breast Nurse but I think she possibly has more important things to do than advise me on the colour of my nail varnish...
I am hoping that this coming week end will signify the return to my diet of all the things I have missed recently. Any sort of take away, a nice rare steak, various cheeses, soft white ice cream from an ice cream van (although the weather is not making that one quite so appealing) and strangely, one of the things I have missed the most is a nice crisp salad. I never thought I would say it but there have been times when I have positively craved a bowl of lettuce with things as mundane as tomato and cucumber in it. With a compromised immune system these have been forbidden items - and as anyone knows, the minute something is off limits, it just makes you want it more!
So my celebration supper will probably be deep fried camembert followed by a rare steak with salad, and then some ice cream.
If I can find a van.
It also hopefully marks the last immunity boosting jab I have to inflict on myself.
That's right.
The complete needle phobic, who has been known to feel faint at the sight of a needle on screen, has survived her way through 41 of the required 42 immunity boosting injections that she has had to carry out on herself.
This is as big an achievement as getting through the chemo. Not to mention the 7 canullas that have been inserted in veins (ouch), the endless blood withdrawals (some more painful than others), injections (never fun) and sundry other needles (not dismissing the anaesthetic at the beginning - ooh no, that was another canulla) that have been wafted around in my vicinity for the past five months...
Yes. The more on the ball ones of you will have realised that I had 6 cycles of chemo but 7 canullas. Let's not forget the one they put in to rehydrate me after the infamous, near-pickling, first cycle of chemo.
I have, in an act of pure rebellion, today stripped off the dark nail varnish and replaced it with sparkly pink. I did apply three coats though so it will hopefully still act as a light block if it is still needed - I tried to check with the Breast Nurse but I think she possibly has more important things to do than advise me on the colour of my nail varnish...
I am hoping that this coming week end will signify the return to my diet of all the things I have missed recently. Any sort of take away, a nice rare steak, various cheeses, soft white ice cream from an ice cream van (although the weather is not making that one quite so appealing) and strangely, one of the things I have missed the most is a nice crisp salad. I never thought I would say it but there have been times when I have positively craved a bowl of lettuce with things as mundane as tomato and cucumber in it. With a compromised immune system these have been forbidden items - and as anyone knows, the minute something is off limits, it just makes you want it more!
So my celebration supper will probably be deep fried camembert followed by a rare steak with salad, and then some ice cream.
If I can find a van.
Tuesday, 2 October 2012
Done
The last dose went in today.
Having completely freaked out last time I went to the chemo suite I am please to say that the lorazepam worked this time - I only had a minute wobble when sitting alone in the chair whilst Jeraldine parked the car but the rescue remedy helped with that.
Plus they gave me my favourite nurse who is a legend with a needle - so careful and gentle that although not a pleasant experience it was eminently more bearable than last time.
Thankfully no-one in the room I was in ordered lunch so that was not an issue this time - all in all a much better visit.
No desire to go back though so let's keep our fingers crossed on that one.
Am seriously hoping that this last dose does not take away the rapidly darkening fluff that is now re-appearing on my head and that it continues to grow and thicken.
Grow. Let's just focus on that. And I would like some eyebrows and eyelashes back please?
I'm happy not having the rest of the hair elsewhere back, I have saved no end on razor blades over the last four months - hardly a momentous bonus to it all but it has given my left arm pit a longer chance to get back to normal without having to be attacked by a razor - bit scary as it has minimal sensation and is a very odd shape having had most of its contents removed. Oh well. At least I can put my arm above my head now!
Right. I can feel a cup of tea calling.
Amazing that two hours after chemo I can face a cup of tea. At exactly this time on the first dose the full horror was setting in - overwhelming nausea , tight skin all over my head shoulders and stomach, whoozyness and generally feeling as though I would honestly die from the chemo that was supposed to be saving my life.
Woooooooooooooooooooooooooo hooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! :-) :-) :-) very happy girl signing off for now xxx
Having completely freaked out last time I went to the chemo suite I am please to say that the lorazepam worked this time - I only had a minute wobble when sitting alone in the chair whilst Jeraldine parked the car but the rescue remedy helped with that.
Plus they gave me my favourite nurse who is a legend with a needle - so careful and gentle that although not a pleasant experience it was eminently more bearable than last time.
Thankfully no-one in the room I was in ordered lunch so that was not an issue this time - all in all a much better visit.
No desire to go back though so let's keep our fingers crossed on that one.
Am seriously hoping that this last dose does not take away the rapidly darkening fluff that is now re-appearing on my head and that it continues to grow and thicken.
Grow. Let's just focus on that. And I would like some eyebrows and eyelashes back please?
I'm happy not having the rest of the hair elsewhere back, I have saved no end on razor blades over the last four months - hardly a momentous bonus to it all but it has given my left arm pit a longer chance to get back to normal without having to be attacked by a razor - bit scary as it has minimal sensation and is a very odd shape having had most of its contents removed. Oh well. At least I can put my arm above my head now!
Right. I can feel a cup of tea calling.
Amazing that two hours after chemo I can face a cup of tea. At exactly this time on the first dose the full horror was setting in - overwhelming nausea , tight skin all over my head shoulders and stomach, whoozyness and generally feeling as though I would honestly die from the chemo that was supposed to be saving my life.
Woooooooooooooooooooooooooo hooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! :-) :-) :-) very happy girl signing off for now xxx
Monday, 1 October 2012
The sun'll come out tomorrow....!
Even if it is a torrential downpour with tornadoes, thunder and lightening (very very frightening) it will still be sunny in my world (with a light breeze to roll the tumbleweed along).
The reason?
Tomorrow is the last one.
(Hopefully).
Round 6.
Back in June it seemed so far away, so unobtainable. Especially when the first dose of FEC proved to be so horrendous. I remember on the Friday after the first dose weeping to a friend who had been through it herself that I couldn't make it to October if it was like that all the time. Thankfully, by the next week I was feeling human again but each dose has taken its toll in some way.
I am seriously hoping we can get through the last one without having to go to A&E but having said that, I would rather go in and get checked if things don't seem right, than run the risk of an infection taking hold.
I may just have mentioned before how wonderful the Breast Care Nurses at the hospital have been. Without fail, their kindness, patience and care has been boundless. Although they are employed by the NHS their wages and the funding comes from MacMillan Cancer Support.
Time to put something back.
The coffee morning I held as part of MacMillan's Biggest Coffee Morning was, it has to be admitted, a runaway success. I was completely overwhelmed by people's generosity of time and donations - whether they were edible, monetary or raffle prizes.
I felt genuinely humbled by how many people turned up in support. I never ever in my wildest dreams thought we would raise as much as we did - I had an aspiration to raise between £200 and £300.
To have raised over £800 made me so proud of everyone for their generosity and effort.
In a rare flash of organisation I have even managed to go into Aylesbury and pay the money in today so that it is not hanging around for two weeks while I go through the chemical effects and the infection window. It is the sort of thing that could get lost or, heaven forbid, stolen plus I would like MacMillan to have it as soon as possible.
Yes it was an amazing effort by all concerned but for a wholly amazing charity that sadly so many people have a need to use at some point.
So. Thank you all x x
The reason?
Tomorrow is the last one.
(Hopefully).
Round 6.
Back in June it seemed so far away, so unobtainable. Especially when the first dose of FEC proved to be so horrendous. I remember on the Friday after the first dose weeping to a friend who had been through it herself that I couldn't make it to October if it was like that all the time. Thankfully, by the next week I was feeling human again but each dose has taken its toll in some way.
I am seriously hoping we can get through the last one without having to go to A&E but having said that, I would rather go in and get checked if things don't seem right, than run the risk of an infection taking hold.
I may just have mentioned before how wonderful the Breast Care Nurses at the hospital have been. Without fail, their kindness, patience and care has been boundless. Although they are employed by the NHS their wages and the funding comes from MacMillan Cancer Support.
Time to put something back.
The coffee morning I held as part of MacMillan's Biggest Coffee Morning was, it has to be admitted, a runaway success. I was completely overwhelmed by people's generosity of time and donations - whether they were edible, monetary or raffle prizes.
I felt genuinely humbled by how many people turned up in support. I never ever in my wildest dreams thought we would raise as much as we did - I had an aspiration to raise between £200 and £300.
To have raised over £800 made me so proud of everyone for their generosity and effort.
In a rare flash of organisation I have even managed to go into Aylesbury and pay the money in today so that it is not hanging around for two weeks while I go through the chemical effects and the infection window. It is the sort of thing that could get lost or, heaven forbid, stolen plus I would like MacMillan to have it as soon as possible.
Yes it was an amazing effort by all concerned but for a wholly amazing charity that sadly so many people have a need to use at some point.
So. Thank you all x x
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