This week...

Well, on the plus side, the nastiness of last time seems to be somewhat under control. It’s Wednesday, I haven’t yet had to resort to peach slices and white sliced bread and, more importantly, I’m still able to drink copious amounts of tea.

Obviously, things are going far too swimmingly, so let’s throw in a curve ball shall we…?

I’ve only got to go and have another blinking op. Turns out that the port I had fitted to administer the chemo slap bang right in the middle of my chest is also (rather annoyingly) slap bang in the middle of the area that they’ll be radiotherapacising (not 100% sure that’s a word…). So once my chemo finishes on the 4^th (yay!), I’ll have to go in and have the bloody thing shifted out of the way (boo!) before I can go in for a body scan so they can start the radio. I’m going to look like a patchwork quilt this time next year.

What a hoo ha. I’m trying my hardest to find the silver lining, but it all seems like a bit of a pain in the bum to be honest. Especially as last time they didn’t even give me any morphine. How’s a girl supposed to float about on the ceiling without a few warming opiates?? Can’t be avoided though, so no point crying over spilt (breast) milk…

As for the radiotherapy, that sounds like a proper lark. The ever-present run down of potential side effects (“theoretical” I’m told) now includes tiredness, sensitive skin (years of handling sunburn – I’m well primed) and fractured ribs (eh???).

I rather think this afternoon deserves some tea and cake.

Chemo 5

Done and dusted! Five-sixths of the way there (hmm… not a particularly neat fraction). This week’s star guest was my lovely friend Christine, although she did draw the short straw it seems as I managed to conk out early doors and slept pretty much throughout my whole treatment. Well, if they WILL put me in a comfy bed with a blanket, dose me up with anti-histamine and bring me tea (apologies Kaz in advance for the rock and roll session that will be chemo number 6).

After the fun and games of last time (neither fun, nor games to be clear), I’ve decided to nip this side effects business in the bud with cold hard drugs and a structured going to bed routine so I can sleep properly. So last night it was a hot bath, followed by a blow dry of the remaining old lady hair wisps, a hat warmed on a radiator and ear plugs (2^nd year Biological Psychology taught me that if you warm your head before you go to bed you’ll get a better night’s sleep – there’s 3 years of unwasted education for you RIGHT THERE). Followed by….

Paracetamol and ibuprofen – stop that pain before it even arrives

Dom Perignon (not the real DP…) – stop that vomiting before it arrives

Nystatin – a lovely little number that tastes a bit like Aftershock or Sambuca without the alcohol and will hopefully stop that awful sore mouth business (fingers crossed into tiny little knots)

Benylin Drowsy – to knock me out good and proper

Next thing, it’s half 7, the cat’s appeared on my bed from nowhere, the first night’s sleep is done and the next round of drugs are lined (with the Benylin in the morning being replaced by steroids to fatten me up even more). Now, if I can just maintain this for the next two weeks I’ll have nailed it. Heck, I hope it blooming well does. And if it doesn’t, I’m off to book myself in for a nice little reflexology session…

Getting there...

Tomorrow is Chemo session number 5. I know it sounds like a proper cliché but time really has flown and there are now only two sessions, and less than a month, until all the chemo is done and dusted and out of the way.

So much for my reaction last time being “meh”. The day after I last wrote the side effects hit, and they hit hard. It was blooming horrid. My tongue swelled up and got all cracked, so every time I moved my jaw I bit my tongue (covered in ulcers) or cheek (ripped to shreds). Not that I could chew terribly well as I couldn’t open my mouth particularly wide, so the food I COULD eat (chopped up tinned peaches, sliced white bread and butter and yoghurt) I had to kind of post into my mouth, chew once (reeeeeally carefully) and swallow it more or less whole. And, most annoyingly, tea was too hot for me to drink. Nightmare. The backache turned into a wave of pain that passed from my shoulders down to my knees every time I stood up, and my terrible wind became the runs. Lovely. I was back to hobbling round like a little old man and it was horrid.

True to form, Ma Booth swooped in to keep me in one piece – I don’t think any mum wants to get a phone call from her adult daughter in tears when she’s in the middle of Sainsbury’s to be honest. Three hours to the minute later and she was on my doorstep, ushering me into the bath (“You’ll feel better when you’ve had a bath”), changing my sheets and generally saving the day. Before you could blink Marple was on the telly, the cat was fed and order was restored.

Three days later and things started to calm down (thankfully – a real low point was sitting in a hot bath trying to soothe my bones and working out that if I felt like this til the end of chemo it would “only” be 56 days at the most. I can cope with that – it’s “only” 8 weeks. Ridiculous. That would be rubbish). So, luckily, it was only really bad for 3 days. Then back to normal and a celebratory trip to the zoo (where we saw Abbey Clancy and Peter Crouch. If only they’d been standing next to the giraffes….).

Most annoyingly, despite not being able to eat anything of any substance for 4 whole days, I’ve still managed to put on A WHOLE STONE. In SIX WEEKS. The second I get off these steroids, the spare room’s being turned into a gym…