#1 CANCER IS A FULL TIME JOB

From the minute you wake up, until the moment sleep thankfully descends, ‘it’ is on your mind. Whether it is at the front door like an uninvited Jehovah’s Witness or in the background, like an impatient toddler demanding snacks.

And there are so many things to do!

I have had three telephone calls just this morning from the hospital with dates for scan appointments I am still outstanding. These are now scheduled over the next 2 weeks. Two are in one day – one morning and one in the afternoon and at different hospitals!

Meanwhile I am researching most days especially details on the type of treatment they are giving me. It’s all well and good to receive information from the ‘horse’s mouth’ – ie: the lovely doctor Dr Kildare (as he shall be known) who I saw yesterday, but retention of an overload of information is one thing, understanding all the medical terms is another and plus I like Dr. Google – unless he’s being particularly negative then I can just swipe him to one side (which I wouldn’t be able to do with Dr Kildare without being arrested).

Then there’s the food regime! Up until yesterday when I started the chemo (more on that when I’ve waffled some more – be patient please Pamela. Put your feet up I’ll be a while), I had spoken to quite a few people who have been through similar cancers or have knowledge of various vitamins, supplements and other concoctions.

Without going into specifics and boring you totally, I had whittled it down to a selection which I thought was best for me. But the process of taking these and also adding into the smoothies which I’m knocking up on a daily basis, plus then time spent on the loo as this stuff certainly gets your bowels and bladder moving, is taking up quite a bit of my time.

Then with a change to my diet in terms of cutting out or cutting down on various food groups I have  had to re-juggle and re-invent recipes to accommodate – not just for me but the two others in the household who have to put up with my newfound dietary requirements.

That coupled with usual family stuff, work, house, gym and social life is taking its toll. Plus, as much as I love all messages of support, I need a secretary to handle them and whilst I’m being a demanding moaning old cow, a cleaner would be useful too.  I need an extra 5 hours a day I reckon just to deal with this shit storm.

Talking of which – yesterday was my first day of Chemo. From this point on it shall now be known as ‘Chemo Tuesday’.  Not very imaginative I know but it’s about as catchy as I can get at the moment.  So, for the next 12 weeks every Tuesday I will be pumped with a Chemo (Taxol) and Immunotherapy (Pembrolizumab) mixture.  Once that’s finished I have another 12 week programme but reduced down to three weekly visits.

After this six month treatment they’ll talk operation and further treatment. For the time being that is put into a ‘pending’ tab in my mental computer to deal with at a later date.

The information and leaflets they dished out yesterday was enough fun to deal with in one day quite frankly and lists the main side effects. There’s no pleasantries with this. Basically, you get constipation or diarrhea (and probably both, not at the same time obvs), loss of appetite, bones and muscle pains, mouth ulcers, numbness in your fingers and toes, aneamia, mucus, sickness and nausea, skin rashes, coughs, tiredness and of course hair loss.

I shall be a thin, balding, spotty, shitty mess in a few months. Although on the plus side I’ll probably be too knackered to care!

Then it’s a visit to A&E if you get any of the emergency side effects which includes a fever, excessive sickness or diarrhea, inability to eat and difficulty breathing.  The lovely lady doctor I saw a few weeks ago said the emergency hours for oncology are Monday to Friday 8 till 2pm. So “try to come then” or it’s queue up with the masses in general emergencies. So mental note – avoid getting seriously ill during the evenings or weekends.

Yesterday wasn’t without drama.  After the consultation with the lovely Dr. Kildare I had an impromptu blood test for a research programme they run at the Hospital itself looking specifically into the Triple Negative type of breast cancer which I have. They need bloods before, during and after treatment and although it won’t help me he said, it will help in treatment for others in the future.  So a dash to another department for that procedure before returning back to the Day Hospital ‘chemo’ room to sit with a bunch of mostly old, sick, cancer victims, forgetting that is now the category I currently belong to.

It’s quite humbling and after seeing a 20-something girl in the bed next to me on dialysis and then being wheeled off in wheelchair, does also make you give yourself a quick ‘man up’ slap in the face.

Anyway first batch of chemo went fine until they changed it to the immunotherapy and a few minutes in I had a massive attack of nausea and dizziness and felt myself burning up. I called for attention and a swat team rushed in and basically paused the treatment until I recovered whilst shoving a bin bag into my hands for any anticipated vomiting, and not my rubbish as I first thought. Embarrassing moment.

They set off the drip again at a slower pace before increasing it to full ‘drip’ speed for the remainder. Thankfully no further reactions and I am told “it happens.”  My body was basically saying “what the holy hell is this foreign body you are giving me to bugger around with what has always been a very healthy immune system.”  It won’t know what’s hit it over the next few months.

Four hours later (finished a book, wrote a few lists, dozed, cleared my rubbish with binbag which was still at hand) Chemo Numero Uno was done and dusted and I left the building to find an equally bored Mr Carter who’d been hanging around car parks, bars and ice cream parlours for the afternoon.

Until next Chemo Tuesday. . . I’d like to end with a positive ditty like ‘I’ve got this’. But I haven’t. I am ‘doing this’. And that at the moment is where I am at.