Can you believe it takes a couple of doses of pre-chemo steroids to get the Shabby Blogger typing again…  Thank the lord I still only have to take them for three days, trouble is they’ve doubled the dose for cycle nos 4-7 and my brain is now whirring like a mad thing!

I’ve been told off by four people for ‘being shabby’ and not updating my blog – I am now feeling suitably chastised so here we go.

This manic mind happened last time actually, no proper sleep for three nights – doesn’t really help sustain the positive thoughts that are required to get through chemo when you are completely knackered.  Off like a lamb to the slaughter for Chemo Numero 5 tomorrow.  I know it is going to make me better in the long run, however, it still doesn’t ease the inevitability of feeling like crap for a week after I’ve been pinned to a chair for five hours hooked up to bags of poison as they are drip fed into my veins via my current arch enemy… The. PICC. Line.

On that note, a couple of wonderful nurses at the Oncology Centre became my heroes pretty much exactly three weeks ago, when they agreed to take the fish hooks bit of my PICC line out – I think it was the pathetic face that I pulled whilst telling them that I could no longer hug my son properly without shooting pain in my right arm.  Apparently they had shifted a bit anyway, the pain had become a constant reminder that I am “ill”, even when I could forget about everything else in my good weeks.  Therefore, from that moment it has become more manageable (still a blooming hindrance, but so very much better!). Those little bits of metal above the orange and blue clip which held the line in place were the culprits – sorry for the grim pic, but I like to share my pain with all!  Anyway, back to the old method of holding the line in place with a bit of double-sided sticky tape so it stays exactly 5cms from my heart…

Moving on to the last three weeks. In summary; it’s been a game of two halves.

The Good Half

I have had the most wonderful Summer holibobs with my son.  No work apart from one 2 hour conference call in the whole 6 weeks. This has been a major silver lining moment, only made possible by quite remarkable friends and family who stepped in exactly when required to help with son and dog, and then stepped out with incredible sensitivity when not needed so Joe and I could have our time together. I am still trying to work out how on earth I am going to repay everyone when all this rubbish and faff is finished with.

We discovered the best way to treat mouth ulcers… Marshfields icecream parlour for a late lunch after a walk at Westonbirt – works a treat!

Got to see the Kent posse again (AKA Sarah and Ben, thank you honey for enduring the M25 yet again!) as they made their second visit of the Summer West bound to us, always means a couple of days of normality, ridiculous chat and few glasses of Prosecco (Yes Mum, she DOES lead me astray!!)

I’m loving my time spent at the Concord Centre in Little Stoke with Charity and Debbie. It’s like turning up somewhere where I am normal (well, I am when I’m there as we’re all in the same boat at the Chemo Clubhouse!) Those ladies are dealing with people in dreadful circumstances with constant smiles and delicate emotional support, I honestly do not know how they do it. I consider them my safety net and comfort blanket now. I know if I ask them a question they will give it to me straight and be completely honest with me (thank you Debbie for the Cycle No.4 run down – I was completely unfazed when I got there as I knew exactly what to expect – forewarned is forearmed), they are the ones who see what this treatment is doing to us Cancer peeps at the coal face, on the front line, and they can tell it as it is. Charity just exudes this serene calm which makes you feel completely at ease and actually really very happy with life – you can’t teach that sort of skill.

Had a complete unintended re-evaluation of priorities which I am so sure meant slightly less nagging for Joe as I didn’t get so hung up on the detail. Having dinner on time and making the beds just didn’t seem quite so important. Note to self: must get back on track and snap out of slovenly ways…

General timekeeping of morning routines are much quicker nowadays as Joe tends to wave a flannel in the vague vicinity of his face for a nanosecond, I have no hair to condition and the hair dryer is redundant, and tracking down the 8 eyelashes I have left with the mascara doesn’t really seem to be worth it unless it’s a special occasion.

We’ve had some lovely time with Auntie Ali, Gaggy and Papa over the last couple of weeks, even managed a family curry night (out at a restaurant) last week with G & P and H & J – now that would’ve been unheard of a couple of months ago.

The four miles of walking a day is continuing – finished off with 4.6 today so still on track.

The Bad Half

Let’s just rattle though these quickly – as ever, I like to share the grisly details…

The Consultants’s time line and predication’s were spookily correct. Exactly on cue at 10.00pm on Thursday night (Chemo was on the Tuesday), the aches and flu symptoms started – don’t think there was a muscle or joint in my body that didn’t hurt.

Like a wimp, went to bed this time for three days, I am sure this was because I could as Joe was in London with his Dad, and Ma and Ali were in charge of Winston.  So much of this bloody procedure is mental, a real mind over matter.  Felt cross and frustrated that it seemed more debilitating than the other cycles, even though there was no sickness or nausea at all.

The ‘Eat.Talk.Breathe’ choice procedure had started before the aches so I can only presume that the steroids have something to do with that.  (I noticed it this evening actually when on the phone so never fear dear friends, I think you’ll have a quiet few days from now!).  This is when my oesophagus seems to cease up and just gets too painful to swallow and air doesn’t flow as efficiently as it should.

No proper eating for four or five days, didn’t once feel hungry so it totally killed the appetite (as soon as any liquids or solids hit my stomach the reflux started as well which was a smidge off putting when it came to consuming anything). Nearly went down to pre-teenager weight which was a very strange concept for me… but this time eating kicked back in pretty much immediately when we got to 7/8 days and had no problem stacking it back on again within a week!

The promised reversing of bowel functions never did happen….until last night….a relief in a perverse sort of way after being blocked up for about 3 months.

The Friday night in the first week wasn’t a barrel of laughs. Had a small SVT episode (very small, not a big drama, just enough for me to call in a wonderful friend and neighbour (thank you Nic) for a bit of monitoring). For those who weren’t aware SVT is ‘Supraventriculartacicardia’ when your heart misfires a bit and decides to run a little marathon and goes too fast. I had an episode a couple of years back and ended up in hospital over night, so I could spot the signs and not panic too much as it does pass. I think this has always been a little niggling worry in the back of my mind as the drugs put a strain on the heart.  Anyway, my standard echo cardiogram check up is due on the 14th September so it’ll be checked then.  I am completely fine now so I don’t expect any back lash from this.

Also on the same Friday I found another lump in my right boob – now, that was a surprise. Made a call to the Breast Care Centre to check whether I should just wait for my assessment which I am having with them on the 12th September, but they had me in the next week and it turned out to be a cheeky cyst that had decided to appear just to keep us all on our toes – drained and dealt with within 30 seconds. Could really have done with out that. I sort of knew that it would be a particularly stupid lump to appear at this stage of the annihilation process if it was a nasty one, but it was nice to be reassured that it was nothing other than a bit of fluid.

What else? Oh, got very excited by a small chance that was raised that I might’ve only been booked for 6 cycles and therefore only need 6 cycles. It’s bizarre how the difference between 6 and 7 suddenly became so important, it just meant that all the yukky treatment would have been ticked off the list by the end of this month, operation therefore sooner, radiotherapy therefore sooner and done with three weeks to spare for Christmas shopping. Anyway, The Boss (ie. clever oncology consultant) scuppered that plan last Thursday and confirmed, albeit very apologetically, that I need 7 cycles as they like to do at least four rounds of the hormones to catch all the HER2 bits and bobs. Big disappointment, but I’ve got over that now. What has to happen will happen, I’m not going to quibble over three weeks when they are fixing me up for good.

Although I don’t have any significant numbness or tingling in my fingers, I think that my nails maybe revving themselves up to fall out as the cuticles have disappeared and I have lines across my nails. Apparently you have one white line for every chemo session, which is what I have, another interesting fact I have learnt this week. My squeamishness is going to be tested to the max if this does happen. Black, green, loose, flappy nails are not something that I am looking forward to…at all.

Right, the plan for the next few weeks:

• Chemo tomorrow, this one is NOT going to get me.  Consultant did say that after the first one of the HPT cycles chances are your body will acclimatise to these drugs and it may not be so bad – well I’m going run with that predication – he was right last time!
• 12th September – Assessment with Breast Care specialists.  This will be an important meeting. They’ll scan to see whether my little friends, Lump 1, 2 and 3, have done a runner and disappeared and then based on what they find (hopefully just some little metal clips), then we decide on type and style of operation and set a date.
• Today I started getting some work sorted out with some very patient and wonderful clients and friends. Now my little honey has gone back to school, and the routine of one bad week/two good weeks seems to be continuing, I can think about cranking the grey matter up which is in danger of festering away to nothing soon.

I think that’s quite enough for now!  Off to read my book, I think my drivel will have worked on you guys but unfortunately it hasn’t worked on me…

BIG hugs

x

PS.  A MASSIVE, HUGE thank you to the beautiful, caring messages that are still appearing from friends past and present.  They really do mean such a lot. It’s my mission next week to start to reply to them.