Saturday, March 16, 2019

Isolation

When Ian had his prostate cancer 10 years ago it was a relatively quick process - diagnosis then operation, job done.  Luckily he didn't need any adjuvant treatment and apart from the regular check-ups, which he still has, that was that and we simply carried on with life.

So I never imagined what an isolating experience it would be and, along with the hair loss, this has probably been the most difficult aspect to deal with (but isn't that so often the case - what you think will be hard is easy and things you never thought would bother you - or didn't even think about full stop - would be hard)

Since mid July last year my thoughts (both waking and in dreams its seemed) have been about cancer and practically nothing else ... will it be cancer ... what will the treatment be ... will the operation be successful ...   the dreadful chemo wait ... what side effects will I have ... and so on.  And probably Ian and I have talked of very little else too.

It has been impossible to make firm plans because of treatments or the worry that side effects might affect plans, so we've lived in a kind of limbo state for nearly 8 months.

Because I've had nothing else in my mind and no other topic of conversation, often I've not felt able to instigate contact so I waited for family and friends to contact me - so, to anyone who felt “it’s her turn to get in touch” then I’m really, really sorry but I simply couldn’t.  And a huge “thank you” to everyone who persisted with me without getting much in return.

A few days away this week proved to me that I can put cancer to the back of my mind for a brief while and now I’m home I must make a conscious effort to do so.  Of course the thought that dominates now is .... will it come back

But I’ve only just finished radiotherapy and maybe I'm expecting too much of myself too quickly - time is a great healer (so “they” say)

Friday, March 15, 2019

Last Injection

Wednesday saw another milestone pass - the last of my injections whoop whoop πŸŽ‰πŸŽ‰πŸŽ‰

I had a quick tot up and all in all I had 143 of the little b*gg*rs and all self administered πŸ˜‡
  •   36 of the immune boosting drugs post chemo injections
  • 107 anti coagulents because of the DVTs

I can honestly say I felt each and every one of them; the immune boosting ones were nice with very thin needles but the Fragmin were chunky things.  One box of 5 in particular were really, really difficult and I had to force them through my skin ouch!!!.  Ian reckons the machine making them must get blunt at some point and need sharpening or replacing and this lot were probably the last ones off the production line before that was done.

Strangely the very last injection really hurt too and it gave me this little reminder - just so I don't forget too quickly.


PS.  Chose to forget about the ongoing Herceptin injections πŸ€ͺ

Friday, March 8, 2019

Radiotherapy All Finished

Wow, these last 3 weeks have absolutely flown by and today I had the last of my 15 blasts of radiotherapy.

I didn’t blog last week as apart from "went to hospital and had R/T" there really wasn’t much to say.  My hair is continuing to grow (or sprout - Mrs Potato Head ) and my fingernails are a bit weird, some look like they're stained with nicotine and others, especially my thumbs, have deep ridges on them (not very attractive digits at the best of times).




My taste is more or less back to normal, but my mouth is still quite sore at times - like I’ve been chewing on a particularly crispy baguette πŸ₯–πŸ₯–πŸ₯–πŸ₯–πŸ₯–

Having to go to Maidstone Hospital has meant spending a lot of time in the car and it’s been a minimum 2 hour round trip each time - considerably longer some nights when the traffic has been bad.  Ian, bless him, has driven me every time bar one and that was only because he took my Mum to the doctor.


On Tuesday, as well as the usual zapping, we also had a review meeting with a Macmillan Radiographer who was a lovely lady.  She wanted to hear all about the side effects I'd experienced and any concerns I had, so it was a very, very short meeting - no side effects and no concerns - quΓ© serΓ‘ serΓ‘ πŸ€—πŸ€— πŸ€—


I am of course aware that the side effects can continue to manifest in the weeks after treatment (skin reaction akin to sunburn) and, in the case of fatigue, for months afterwards and obviously I PFTWHFTB.  She was clearly delighted with my positive approach to the whole experience and I came away feeling quite proud (if that's not a dirty word) as to how well I have coped, particularly as I'm not usually a "glass half full" person.


As I mentioned before, Maidstone Oncology Centre is vast (sneaky photo on our way out as no one there)



and the patient call system is automated so you sit around in a large waiting area until your name is called in a very oriental sounding voice - we became adept at listening out for "Jenfer Klook to LA6".  There are 6 machines (linear accelerators) delivering the radio beams, each in their own large suite and in blocks of three.  For the first week I was always in LA6, which was right at the end of the corridor and had its own little sub-waiting area to sit once you'd changed into the gown (you're called about 10-15 mins in advance; it only takes me a minute or so to change but I guess some older folk need considerably more time).  The next couple of weeks I alternated more or less daily between LA6 and LA3 and the waiting area for LA3 is very open and cold (floor to ceiling windows) also they seem to do more men in LAs1-3 so often you will hear someone being asked in a very loud voice "Is your bladder full yet Mr X" or "Can you hold on a bit longer Mr Y" - which I feel is really embarrassing for all parties.

There is a bell to ring here too (although we’ve not heard it rung in the previous 14 visits we’ve made) and the receptionist asked if I was going to ring it.  But no, somehow it seems wrong to: a) done it once after chemo and b) it’s so large and impersonal.  That said as I was waiting for my last zapping, someone rang it!!!

For me, the end of radiotherapy is another huge milestone in the treatment and the end of "invasive" treatment.  I'm just left with the injection every 3 weeks until mid-December (had No.5 at Medway this morning)  and 5 years of hormone tablets which, unless I start to suffer the horrendous joint pains reported by some, will be a breeze.

My blogs will be a bit less frequent from now on (I can't make it up if there's nothing to write about) but if there is anything of interest to report I will surely post so please do check in from time to time.

Meanwhile it's time for a few “thank yous” (looks odd I know, but I can't bear an inappropriately placed apostrophe πŸ˜›)
  • to all the staff at both Medway and Maidstone cancer units for your incredible kindness
  • to all of you who have helped keep my spirits up over some testing times (some very special people especially who I won't embarrass by naming but I know you'll know who you are)
  • last, and by no means least, to my Darling Husband
 You let me stay silent back at the beginning when I just couldn't speak
You let me talk, sometimes endlessly, often both day and night
You held me when I was frightened and let me cry and cry and cry
You let me sleep in late when I needed to but always made sure I was up if I had to be
You took on Mum when I couldn't face her
You took on the household chores without a single moan or grumble
You cooked me delicious meals never really knowing if I'd eat them after your efforts
You drove me around and took me for walks both long and short
You came to every single appointment
You've been my shadow, quietly there, checking that I'm OK and coping

You didn't agree with my PFTWHFTB approach but you understood it was my way 

I remember how I scoffed when you said right back at the start that you'd be with me every step of the way - how could that help, it was ME who would be going through it.

But I simply couldn't have got through it without you - and words cannot express my love and thanks for all you have done and, I know, will continue to do.
πŸ’œπŸ’›πŸ’šπŸ’™πŸ’œπŸ’›πŸ’šπŸ’™πŸ’œπŸ’›πŸ’šπŸ’™

And as I sit here typing this and enjoying a glass of delicious champagne 🍾🍾🍾 (thank you Sis) I feel it's also now time for our lives to start moving forward, little by little, step by step.

I love you all πŸ’•πŸ’•πŸ’•