We’re a few days into Week 3 and things are so much better than last week already. I woke up this morning not feeling as sick as I did last Saturday. I took my anti-sickness pill this morning but not at lunch time. I’m hoping that my body is coping now, and I can try and reduce the number of tablets this week.
I had enough energy this morning to clean the dining room. Listened to a disco album whilst I was doing it! It may only be one room, but that’s a small victory for me. The picc line feels weird today, but that might just be the medical cover that is on it. The picc cover is so much softer and comfortable. Anyway, I digress. I cleaned the blinds as well so that shows how keen I was!
Simon was keen to go out somewhere last night, even if it was for a drive to get a drink somewhere. So, we popped to Create 98 as Howard was DJing there. Stood outside with Sinead and Al for a while, stayed for a lemonade and then came home after an hour. It felt weird and good to be out. I was in a bit of heightened state with my picc line, but I need to come to terms with it being there and not to panic about catching it too much. It has a cover on it; it’s not going to get caught. Very weird the things that go through your head when you feel vulnerable.
It’s James and Carla’s wedding today. I was hoping to make the ceremony, but I can’t risk needing to use the toilet at the wrong time! I can’t believe my life is currently based around my stomach and bowels. Do I feel sick? Is it firm or solid? Everything is noted down to see if there is correlation between treatments. I just keep telling myself that this is just for 24 weeks … if I can remember to keep doing it (unfortunately some days have been left half done!).
My skin today is very dry on my hands, not just on the back but on the side of my palms. I think I’m going to need to have more lip balms and hand creams in different parts of the house and in my handbag.
We got to the weeding at 6pm and left just before 9:30pm. It was good to spend time with Nicola and Paul. James nearly cried when he saw me. Daft wally, and then Carla nearly did! Then we were joined outside by James and Courtney. It was a lovely evening with friends but the picc line was very uncomfortable and I could feel it constantly.
I couldn’t risk going in the marquee, I heard James’ brother saying that he felt rough and so did his wife and kids. After hearing that, I couldn’t even face going into a crowded area with potential other people that he had infected. It was a lovely evening anyway, so we all stayed outside. Great pizzas, but I forgot to take my tablet with me, so my stomach was gurgling and wasn’t happy with me. I will have to rectify that tomorrow.
I went out to lunch with Garry and Davey yesterday. It was my first lunch out since treatment had started. I hope it didn’t show that I was nervous. First time out to lunch and first time out with my picc line. I didn’t need to worry, everything was fine, and the lunch was tasty and just what I needed. I now have a new companion for Teeny Tiny keyring Toast, he is called Jellycrap!
Woke up a bit later than usual today, it was a bit of a disturbed night with me keep worrying about the picc line. Of course I didn’t catch it, but the thought of sleeping with my arm up, and breaking it inside, is the thing that keeps me waking up. There is a little bit of blood inside it, but they said that was normal and it won’t always be like that. I don’t like to look at it. I know I should, but it’s still bruised and there’s a big fuck off clear plaster in my armpit that is helping glue together the hole that she cut. I already have a little red mark from where they did the biopsy on my lymph node in my armpit, now I’m going to have another, bigger, scar. Thanks, thin veins. Which family member passed that little genetic trait to me?
Got ready for the hospital and got there with plenty of time again. Simon was in a better mood as he had taken the day off as holiday again.
I was offered Bay 2 or 3 today. I opted for 2 and hid in the corner. Bay full of older women today. Woman opposite me spent most of her time on video calls with her friends and family. Joyce next to her was someone I recognised from my first round. She had been in the chair next to me and complained about everything. She was still true to form today. Woman in the end chair was doing her knitting, and everyone came to look at what she was making. It’s a bright red cardigan for her granddaughter and she going to make one for the plumbers’ daughters as he’s a lovely man, always helping her out. Then she slept most if the day! At the end of my row was a Scottish woman who told every member of staff about the ambulance she had called the other week because she was so ill after the red devil that they gave her (EC chemo), and the ambulance still hadn’t come after two days even when she had been calling again for help. One nurse did ask her why she didn’t get a taxi straight to A&E, but then she cried and said that she was too poorly to have gotten out the house. She lives on her own. Now that must be hard. I have my family around me to help; she’s going through it alone. That’s tough. She got a lot of attention from all the staff, and she left happier than she arrived.
Picc line was used, which was weird. I thought I would feel more, but I didn’t. Felt as if nothing was happening. The pump on the drip sends everything through, so it goes in quicker. That’s a bonus. Bloods taken through the picc line as well. Having the dressing changed stung, a lot. I guess because it’s only just been done, but still, it smarted. A lot.
I didn’t talk to many of the people again. They may think I’m rude, but I put my air pods in and listened to podcasts. The room was filled with lots of women talking and machines bleeping and alarms going off. I still don’t feel like I want to make small talk with strangers.
Simon picked me up and we came home. Take away for dinner again, my choice and I opted for Pizza Express. It was delicious and I didn’t need to run to the toilet. That’s an improvement on last week.
Nicky, Liz and Claire came to sit with me on Saturday as Emily and Simon were at a car show and Hannah was at work all day. I was fine. Did get a little bit tired but I battled through. It was lovely to see them all. I’m not sure if I talked too much about the chemotherapy. I know in some of the leaflets and information sites they say that you should feel comfortable telling people that you don’t want to talk about, but once you get me started, I can’t shut up. I thought this blog would help me get it all out, but not everyone knows about it, so I just keep on talking! I told them that I’m having my picc line done on Tuesday and I’ll probably get a taxi to the hospital as everyone else is at work. Nicky and Liz offered to take me, so I might have to take them up on their offer of help.
Anyway, felt ok over the weekend, kept talking the tablets continued to eat some food. I can’t eat big dinners like I used to, so I get the child-like portions.
Hannah ended up swapping a shift this week, so she was available to take me to the hospital today. Well, both Hannah and Tom were available, so they dropped me off whilst they went out for brunch.
I was escorted by the receptionist to the picc nurses’ area, and I sat waiting for them to get the room ready. It’s a bit weird to perform surgery in what can only be described as a demountable building that is being held together with gaffer tape on the floors. But it was clean inside the room. I was asked to lie on the bed, with my right arm resting at a right angle to me on a pillow. An ultrasound was used to look for my veins. And look, and look, and look. They are too small she said, so she looked in my armpit. There is a thicker one there that she can use but it’s still a bit small. They looked on my left arm, and of course, there was a thicker vein on that side. Could we do it that side? No. The injury in my shoulder meant I was in pain just holding my arm there for a couple of minutes. How could I hold it there for an hour? The decision was made. To put it in my right arm, two local anaesthetics would need to be given to numb my armpit and the area where the picc line would come out midway down my arm. She cut into my armpit, inserted the line down my arm, and out the second cut in my arm, whilst also feeding more of the picc line towards my chest. I felt a very strange sensation in my hand, and it wasn’t pain but was pain, if that makes sense. The other nurse told me that because the picc line is going along a vein, the nerve endings run alongside the veins, and it has pushed against the nerve endings. It felt like someone was activating my nerves in my fingers, one after the other, very fast. Not something I would like to repeat but I have a feeling something similar may happen when they remove the picc line at the end of my treatment.
The other nurse came to check on me at one point and I think she may have noticed that I was crying. Or the fact that I had said at one point that I wasn’t sure if I had made the right decision if it wasn’t as straight forward as it could be. I was lying on an operating bed, with holes in my arm, and a nurse struggling to fit a tube into my thin veins. I had so many thoughts going through my head. How can this small lump have me going through all this. I’ve never been a sicky person. Always stayed away from the doctors. Made sure I looked after myself. Never took unnecessary tablets. I am nothing like my mum or nan who both liked a visit to the doctor to get all the pills. But I’m now lying here, wondering why all this is happening to me, when I don’t want to be here. I just want everything to go away. Is that possible? Could I click my fingers and wake up to my old life? No. I must get through this. This is still the beginning of the treatment; I have weeks and weeks to go yet. That’s the scary part, and I don’t think I’m coping at all with it. The nurse started talking to me about my family and she distracted me enough for me to relax and then it seemed the line was fitted, and I was being glued up and stuck together with massive clear plasters. I was given all my instructions, and the picc passport to always carry with me, and escorted to the waiting area where I was made a cup of tea and given a biscuit. Hannah and Tom picked me up and we went home.
Now I know they said I would get used to it being there, and I won’t feel it most days, but I’m not so sure you can used to a tube hanging out your arm that you are most definitely not allowed to get wet at all.
After taking the anti-sickness pills, I finally felt well enough to leave the house for the next round of chemo!
Made it to the hospital a bit early. Didn’t have a meltdown in the waiting room, but I was nervous. The nurse checked in to see how I was as we were going through the bays (Bay 2 today) and they weighed me. Not good, lost 5kgs in a week. I didn’t realise I had dropped that much weight; I was frowned at. I told her that I was going to continue taking the anti-sickness pills as they made things more comfortable for me. She was happy with my answer. Had a canula fitted in my left arm and then had to sit and wait for the drugs to arrive. It took ages.
Bev came round with the drinks trolley at 11am. Still no sign of anything. They came round with the cold cap for me, which I thought was weird as I was led to believe it was one week of chemotherapy and the rest was immunotherapy. Never mind, I’ll go with it.
Then they came out with the anti-sickness pill and the antihistamine. Now that was weird. Maybe I didn’t notice it last week but within minutes of it going into your bloodstream, it literally knocks me out. Bev came round with the lunch trolley and I’m sure I was really spaced out when asking for my food. Cheese and pickle sandwich with a jelly. Then, after having the cold cap on for the allotted time, they came out with the paclitaxel. But that’s chemotherapy. Will have more immunotherapy? Will this chemotherapy diminish my immune system again? Will I be constantly having to hide away? So many questions that I didn’t ask. But then I didn’t want to seem stupid for asking them. Maybe I will be brave enough one day.
I tried to keep my eyes closed and not pay attention to everyone around me. I recognised the man opposite; we were in Bay 4 together last week. He was reading a book and one of the Macmillan nurses asked what it was about. He said his friend had written it about his prostate cancer journey. The woman in the chair to my right was talking with all the nurses. Every one of them had got the same bit of her life story. She’s far too talkative for me, so I did my utmost to not make eye contact. We all had a bit of a relax after lunch. Some fell asleep, whilst I kept my eyes closed but sleep eluded me.
Around 2pm, the nurses were back checking the alarms and the timers on the drips. They were with the woman next to me and then carried over straight to me. Which is when it happened. I caught her eye and that was it. Jeanie and I were now in a conversation. Well, she did most of the talking, so it was a bit of one-sided conversation. She told me about her car, the man who’s coming to do some handy work for her, her neighbour who mows her lawn for her, her grandchildren, her children, her cancer treatment, her surgery, her bra (she flashed it to me), her new carpet, the rug that is upstairs that she wants downstairs, her new furniture that the company are holding on to until her carpet is laid, the operation she had on her foot, and then finally, right before they took my cold cap off, she heard one of the nurses call me Michelle. Oh, that’s a name I can’t forget – she said – my daughter is called Shell. I was going to say that my is Michelle, but she had already started talking about something else, so I never got the chance.
As it was only one chemo drip, I was finished earlier than last week so Simon collected me and took me home. He didn’t seem happy about picking me up, but it turned out that he was going to work straight afterwards so I think he was more pissed off about that than waiting for me for a little while in the car park. I didn’t get given any injections to do at home, so that was a huge relief for me.
The girls and I had McDonald’s for dinner (Jeanie had talked about it and I couldn’t get it out of my head) and I was really looking forward to eating it. I think I ate it too quickly as I had to stop halfway through to use the toilet. That was a bit unexpected, but it didn’t put me off my food. I did eat too quickly and gave myself indigestion. But I enjoyed it!
I should’ve been having my picc line fitted today. I had to call the nurses early this morning to say I was too ill to make it.
Thursday evening, I was shattered and went to bed early. Understandable as I think I was in shock as well. Friday, I woke up ok, took my steroids and anti-sickness pills and was able to be a bit active around the house. Had the energy to clean and vacuum, so I did. Saturday was much the same. Felt a bit tired but wasn’t too bad. Still had steroids and the big anti-sickness pill to take. Tracey popped over to see me and I had cleaned the house before she had arrived and wasn’t feeling too tired. She didn’t stay for long, but I was glad to get to hug her. Saturday evening was a different story though. On the Saturday after Day 1 chemo, I start injecting myself with the immunotherapy syringes. Surely that’s not too bad? Maybe if you’re used to injecting yourself, but I have never been asked to do it before. So, I put my big brave girl pants on and did it. It stings when it goes in. Then within an hour your joints start aching. I went to bed early and tried to sleep through it.
Sunday, I woke up and had to make the decision if I wanted to take the next lot of anti-sickness pills. Tracey and I had been discussing how everyone is different, and it would depend on whether I can cope with sickness. I was fine with morning sickness when I was pregnant. Didn’t throw up or struggle too much, so maybe I could cope without the tablets. So, I didn’t take them. Breakfast was ok, lunch was alright but there a severe lack of appetite at dinnertime.
Monday got worse. A little bit of breakfast, struggled to eat biscuits. Felt hungry, ate something, stomach didn’t like it. Tried lunch, that was a was a struggle. Emily cooked dinner and I couldn’t even eat anything without getting instantly hot and then not wanting to eat another mouthful. I wasn’t feeling sick. It was as if my body was crying out for food, but as soon as you give it food it was then going – but that’s not food. I didn’t feel sick. So, I didn’t take the pills.
So, this morning I was worse. The picc nurses were lovely and have changed the fitting to next Tuesday. I got up and tried to eat something. Yet again, nothing wants to go into my stomach. I called and left a message with the chemo unit.
I tried not to sleep too much but that’s nearly impossible. Simon is trying to do his best to help but we are both struggling with how to deal with this. All I seem to have done is sleep, and it hasn’t affected my sleep at night.
The chemo nurses called back and talked me through everything. They asked if I had taken the anti-sickness pills and I explained that I hadn’t as I wanted to see if I could cope without them, but I did take a pill at lunch time. She asked if that had helped and I said that I had managed to eat something. She told me to keep taking them, three times a day, and if that doesn’t help, I need to take the other anti-sickness pills as well. She told me to eat what I wanted as eating anything would be better than nothing. She said to eat the ice-cream and eat the crisps if I wanted. I thanked her for all her help.
I ate a little bit of dinner which is better than nothing again.
I woke up early, had a shower, and sat on the side of the bed and cried. Why am I having to go through this? Why me? I don’t think I have the strength to do it. Everyone has been messaging me, and I just want to run away and hide and say – no, you’ve got it all wrong, I am not strong enough to do this – but I can’t as I MUST do this to get better. It’s amazing how a hidden, painless lump will now cause me months of being pumped with poison and changing my body.
I got dressed and Simon drove me to the hospital. Just as we were arriving in the car park, my brother called. I couldn’t answer his call; it was making me cry just seeing his name on my phone. Then a minute later Hannah messaged saying that she was sorry she couldn’t call, and she loves me and she’s so proud of me. I had to put my phone in my bag and try ignoring everything.
We walked towards the chemo unit and there was a big sign saying patients only. Simon gave me a kiss, and I walked through on my own.
The receptionists were lovely, very helpful and they told me to take a seat, and I would be called through. I got my phone out to reply to Hannah and I started crying again. Two lovely women came and sat next to me and helped to calm me down. I said I was ok but a bit emotional after receiving a message from my daughter. I said to this lady who is a stranger to me – how can my daughter be so lovely to me? – to which the random stranger said – I know, what a bitch being so nice!
These two lovely ladies sat and talked to me and gave me advice on things to eat and drink, and just generally made me feel better about starting the treatment. They both said that they always make the side effects sound so scary, but they do it so that you keep looking after yourself. Plus, anything that does seem wrong, always tell them. Then one of the ladies started talking about the staff and how lovely they are, and she said if you hear squeaky shoes then that will be Megan. Both the ladies were called through before me and I sat there waiting.
When I was collected from reception, I was walked into Bay 4 and given the last chair in there. I didn’t want to talk to anyone as I was still struggling to process what was going on, but thankfully everyone in there was reading or doing crosswords or on their phones. Six chairs in the Bay, with two men and four women in there. I was weighed and then fitted with a cannula in my right hand. I had a bit of a panic as the nurse was putting it in. I got a bit hot and dizzy and had to ask if the chair could be reclined. I don’t think it was the needle that did it, I think it was the fact that this is the treatment starting that caused it. My pulse was quite high, but they said that was expected that as it’s my first time here. Temperature was done and then they came round and put me on a flush/saline drip which I didn’t feel at all.
They explained to me that the immunotherapy would start first, followed by the chemotherapy. I don’t need to wear the cold cap for immunotherapy, but it will need to be fitted at least a half hour before the chemotherapy starts so they will do it during the immunotherapy. I was measured for the right size cap, small was too small, so medium it is. My hair was sprayed with water all over and then conditioner is put on so that the cap doesn’t freeze to the hair itself and it can be slid off afterwards. Once it was turned on, it was quite soothing on my head and helped keep me calm.
Before any drugs are administered, I am given two anti-sickness tablets, and an antihistamine is administered through the drip. That really knocked me out. I came over very dizzy and tired and struggled to keep my eyes open. Which was then difficult as Bev the lunch lady then came round with the sandwiches. I was advised by the ladies this morning to choose a sandwich that you don’t mind never eating again. That way, if I am ill, I won’t worry about bringing it up, but mainly because I will associate that sandwich with chemotherapy and it may not bring happy memories to me. Cheese and pickle sandwiches were chosen, with a jelly for afterwards. I did try to eat it but had to stop and close my eyes for a while.
Immunotherapy finished, I was then attached to a flush which I think had the steroids in it. I did wake up a bit after that and managed to finish off my sandwich. Then came a big bag of chemotherapy which they said would take an hour and a half to slowly drip into me. It is done slow at first, then every half an hour a timer goes off and they will alter the speed it goes in. I didn’t feel anything as it was going in, so all was well with the cannula. A few times they had to come over and raised up the drip bar as my small veins needed more gravity to get it in quicker.
Finally, after what seemed like an age, the bag was finished, and I was given another flush before the last small chemotherapy bag (only half an hour for this one) was added to the drip collection. Just after 4:15pm, my treatment was all finished. But the cold cap wasn’t, and I had to sit for a further hour and a half with it on my head, whilst my cannula was taken out and my take home tablets were given to me in a big green bag, with a needle container. And as they went through the bag, there they were, five large needles that I will need to inject into myself starting Saturday for five days. I am NOT looking forward to doing that.
Cap was removed; hair was towel dried and bags were picked up and I left the chemotherapy unit to find Simon waiting in the car just opposite the door. Sick bucket was in the back seat just in case.
I got home safely, lay down on the sofa and just didn’t know what to do with myself. I think it was more tiredness and shell-shock really.
Was it as bad as I thought it would be? No.
Was it a scary thought that I must continue to go in there every Thursday for the next twelve weeks? Absolutely.
Am I looking forward to finding out what the side effects are? No.
I don’t think my life will be the same again for a long while.
I will be having the immunotherapy drug first, followed by two chemotherapy drugs, Paclitaxel and another one beginning with C (I think) tomorrow. Then for the next two weeks it will be the immunotherapy, which is not as invasive as the chemotherapy. It is being given to help my body make more white blood cells and platelets to fight the cancer. After 12 weeks, the chemo will then change to EC which will be given every 3 weeks for 4 rounds. If everything goes to plan, the 18th of December will be my last round. Then it will be rest for me for a little while before surgery. Then immunotherapy afterwards with 6 lots every 3 weeks. I need to check that as I thought it was radiotherapy afterwards.
So, Day 1 (24th July) will be three drugs. We spoke about a picc line, and I have said that I would prefer one as my veins are not that good, and seeing as it will be a weekly thing, it seems the sensible solution. I won’t have one fitted tomorrow but hopefully the picc nurses will fit it on Day 8. They will request a swab from my nose and groin to check for MRSA. I will have everything through a canula tomorrow. With a picc line, district nurses will come to flush it through and do the blood tests at home.
I will be given a card that is passport size that will have emergency blood forms and a prescription for antibiotics in it. If my temperature drops below 36 or above 37.4 degrees, I am to call them on the emergency number, and they will advise me if I need to go to A&E immediately (with my emergency card). She said it was so I could jump the queue.
She advised that I should wear comfortable clothes tomorrow as I will be there for 6-7 hours at least. No need to bring food as they will provide everything.
I need to check my temperature daily as my white blood cells with drop and a change in my temperature could mean an infection. She said that they want me to feel well enough to continue a normal life, but I need to stay away from big crowds if I am not wearing a mask. If I am with family/friends, I need to make sure that no-one has a cough or cold.
Mouth ulcers are a common side effect and that 1 or 2 of them is okay, bonjela or warm salt water will help with them. I am to call if I have more mouth ulcers than that and I am struggling to eat.
Nausea and vomiting are another side effect. I will be given anti sickness tablets to take 3 times a day. If, after 3-4 days the nausea goes, I can reduce the tablets to twice a day, then once a day. Or I could just keep taking all three every day all the way through. I like the idea of not taking so many pills. If the nausea doesn’t go, then I should call and let them know as they may need to adjust the chemotherapy.
I need to keep an eye on any rashes or spots and call them if there are any.
They will give me some back-up anti sickness tablets. If I vomit 2-3 times in 24 hours, I must call them.
Smaller meals little and often are better than 3 big meals. Ginger is good for settling the stomach.
If I become constipated, I should drink more orange juice, have dates and prunes, drink more water, have cereal with more fibre, and take some senakot.
If I get diarrhoea 3-4 times in 24 hours, I should take Imodium.
The side effects of chemotherapy are constipation, the side effects of immunotherapy are diarrhoea, so hopefully they will balance each other out!
My skin will become sensitive, I am not to use creams with scents, E45 cream is the better option.
I must keep an eye on my nails. They will ridge and can even come away. If there is any weeping, it could be an infection, so I will need to call them.
I will become tired, but if I am spending more than half the day asleep when I have been asleep all night, then I need to let them know.
There is to be no sunbathing. Factor 50, sit in the shade, wear a hat. That’s nothing new for me then.
The Paclitaxel will cause pin and needles in my fingers and toes in the morning. If they continue all day, that is a definite NO as it can cause permanent damage. Let them know immediately as the drug will need to be reduced.
The immunotherapy can cause inflammation of the lungs. If there is shortness or breathe or pains in the chest, I must call 999.
If I need to take paracetamol, I must check my temperature beforehand as the paracetamol reduces temperatures and can mask an infection. Call them if I am unsure.
I think that is everything.
Oh no, forget, I must inject myself for 5 days. I can’t remember why, but she said they would tell me more about that tomorrow.
Apparently, the chemotherapy is worse towards the end. Great to know. But at least I won’t be having the immunotherapy.
She said the immunotherapy is given to get the bone marrow making more white blood cells and platelets, so that will be when my bones ache. So, every week then. Brilliant.
She was asking what medication I take: nothing. Only the pill years ago. Any supplements? Nope. Good, she said, as that may affect things.
I won’t lie; I have sat here crying for a while. I have a 23mm lump of cancer, why can’t they just cut it out and not have to do all this invasive stuff. They make everything sound so shit. Will there be anything good about any of this treatment? Not by the sounds of it.
I know they must warn you about the side effects, but they make the cure sound worse than the disease. I have no pains from cancer, just a lump.
I hope I read this back in a few years’ time and laugh at the daft cow sitting here crying because she’s not sure she can do all this.
I was left alone in the house today and had plans to get some housework done, but unfortunately my brain went into absolute overdrive this morning. I almost started writing my feelings down, I’m glad I didn’t. The house was quiet; I was sitting on my own and that overactive imagination had me convinced that I’m not strong enough to cope with what’s coming. That I’d convinced everyone that I can do this, when I can’t. That I had lied to everyone, and I would rather curl up in the corner and hide then turn up for any appointments. Would it be easier to take my chances and not get the cancer sorted, than pump poison through my body to get rid of it. Am I worth that? Will my family look after me when I am at my most vulnerable? Will I just be a burden to them? This is a 24-week treatment, followed by surgery. Who is going to clean the house. Nobody else in this house has ever picked up a cloth and dusted or wiped. I watch them every day, collecting the place mats without wiping them. They have never cleaned the oven, or the bath, or the shower, or the toilet, or the bin, or the cupboards, of the skirting boards. I have a full-time job, and they expect me to do it all. How many times will they come home from work and moan about having to do housework, before I get shouted at? And that is just a small amount of what my brain put me through this morning.
I got scared. Scared that I am going to be left on my own. I can’t be near people when I have no immune system, will anyone understand that or see it as a sign that I am rejecting them? Has any of them investigated how to help some going through chemo or do they expect me to tell them? I don’t know what I need. I don’t know how I’ll feel. I don’t have the answers to anything so how can I tell them?
So, I treated myself and ordered some lunch for delivery, with a few added extras for dinner. I put my current most favourite album on loud, sang my heart out, and danced around the house. This has always made me feel happy and it worked again today. I then decided to get on with the ironing that needs doing and watch Lucifer, on Netflix, whilst I’m at it. I’ve watched them all before, but I can never be sad whilst watching Tom Ellis!
Then it happened. That urgent need to go to the toilet. Not a problem, I’ve had days when I’ve needed to go a couple of times. Nothing new there. But then there was a weird, familiar sensation that I haven’t experienced in many, many, years. I’ve had the coil fitted since Hannah was born but decided to get it removed a few weeks ago as I didn’t how it would affect everything. And there I was, having the biggest, heaviest period that I have experienced in years. Periods used to surprise me when I was younger, no pains, no issues, no trouble. This has thrown my emotions into turmoil, my stomach into a bloated mess, and I can’t walk around without feeling I’m going to leak on everything.
I’m still carrying all those worries with me, but my overreaction to everything this morning will hopefully subside. I might be able to cope better than I think, my family may still love me when I’m driving them crazy with instructions on how to clean the house, or maybe they won’t.
Is it too late to ask to have the coil put back in?
See, I’m not very good at keeping a diary. Simon mentioned last night that he was avidly waiting for my next update!
Yesterday was lymph nodes results day. The biopsy has shown that there are no cancerous cells there so everything will continue as planned. I had prepared myself for it to be cancer, why else would they do a biopsy? It feels like there is something positive and that it hasn’t spread. They will take a couple of the lymph nodes out during surgery as, I guess, having lumps in them is not ideal. Surgery will be booked in for four weeks after the chemotherapy has finished. I need to research what the lymph nodes do …
Open here
What does the lymphatic system do?
The lymphatic system has different jobs:
It helps fight infection – inside the lymph nodes are white blood cells called lymphocytes. Lymphocytes attack and destroy bacteria, viruses, damaged cells and cancer cells. When lymph nodes are fighting an infection, they can get bigger and feel sore.
It removes waste products – the lymphatic system carries destroyed bacteria and other waste products back into the bloodstream. The liver and kidneys remove these from the blood. The body then gets rid of this waste when you pass urine (pee) or stools (poo).
The lymphatic system and cancer
Cancer can affect the lymphatic system in different ways:
Cancer cells may travel through the lymphatic system
Sometimes cancer spreads from one place in the body (the primary site) to another place. It can travel through the blood or the lymphatic system. When the cancer moves to somewhere else, it is called a secondary cancer or metastasis.
Cancer cells may spread into and grow in the lymphatic system
Sometimes cancer from another part of the body can spread into and grow in the lymph nodes. This is called lymph node metastases or secondary cancer in the lymph nodes.
Cancer may start in the lymphatic system
Lymphoma is a cancer of the lymphatic system. It develops when white blood cells called lymphocytes become abnormal. The most common symptom of lymphoma is a painless swelling or lump in the neck, armpit or groin. If you notice this, it is important to get it checked by your GP.
… ok, so that’s a relief then! Does it show that I really don’t research anything beforehand? Sometimes the internet scares us more than the reality of things, so I like to stay ignorant for as long as possible. I still haven’t read all the booklets they gave me about chemotherapy. I will do that the day before.
There have been up and down days, but that may be because I’m struggling to sleep with my shoulder injury. The physiotherapist massaged it on Tuesday and has told me to ice it at least twice a day. So, freezing my shoulder before bed last night, meant that I went into deep sleep quite quickly and I feel so much better this morning. The physiotherapist is going to give me some advice and exercises to do to help my aches and pains during chemotherapy as well. I should’ve gone to her first instead of the physio at the doctors. Oh well, we live and learn. I’ve found her now so maybe that was how it was meant to be.
It’s the school Summer Party this evening, I’m looking forward to seeing everyone again as this may be the last time I see some of them until I return in the New Year. That may be why I have had up and down days; I miss being at work and being around everyone. I know I’ll be fine during the summer holidays, I wonder how I will cope knowing they’re going back to work, and I must continue my chemotherapy journey for the autumn term. That’s usually the time I get to know all the new students. By the time I return, I will be the new person to them. Oh well, at least the Year 9’s and 8’s will know who I am!
I had a lovely weekend. Simon took me out for breakfast at Scott’s and then treated me to a new Southend United home kit. Sunday morning, I went to breakfast with the Sweyne Girls, and Nicky, and had a good catch up with them. I miss seeing them every day at work, I’m currently trying to pretend that it’s the summer holidays and we wouldn’t see each other much anyway.
Sunday evening, I went to dinner with Lizzie and then saw Sara Pascoe at the Palace Theatre. It was good to laugh and do normal things.
This morning, the new garden furniture was due to arrive. Not long after 12pm, it did. So, Emily and I had our lunch, then moved it to the conservatory and battled with boxes to put it together.
Just before 4pm I received a call from a 0300 number. I was told that anything from the hospital would start with that number, so I answered. It was Karen from the chemo unit. She was calling to ask how soon I could start my sessions.
The first thing we discussed was the cold cap; was I going to use it. I’ve been quite adamant that I wouldn’t use it, but am I making the right decision? Would I be one of those people who it would work for? Could I sit there for longer, making my head cold? Well, I know that I can do it, but I would be gutted going through it all to just lose it anyway. So that was a positive as Karen said that I wouldn’t need to wait for the cold cap to be available.
Next, we discussed what I need to do before the appointment. I said that I must get a blood test done 2-3 days beforehand. Karen asked is I needed an echocardiogram … erm, I’m not sure! So, she will email the consultant to find out what needs to be booked in. I said – I have an appointment with the Breast Clinic on the 16th of July. Okay – she said – I’ll check if that will affect the start of the chemotherapy. Polite exchanges done and I put the phone down.
Well, this is it then. It’s all starting. I always knew it would, but knowing that it is, is making me wish that I don’t have to go through it all. The thought of all the side effects is making me feel sick. Will I be okay or will I struggle? How sick is it going to make me? How quickly will my hair fall out? Will I look sick? Can I still go out? How am I going to cope? What if the cancer doesn’t respond to the chemotherapy?
My brain is constantly asking me questions that I don’t have the answers to.
Jessie J has just been on the news. She’s 37 years old and was diagnosed with early-stage breast cancer, but she has had a mastectomy. I know they say that everyone is different, but I wonder why she had surgery first?
My breast shape has changed; it has puckered underneath the nipple. I wonder if the chemotherapy will irradicate the cancer and change my breast back to its normal shape, or will it be this shape forever more? I am sure I will let you know.
I’ve added a few more cancer help accounts on Instagram. One of them is a charity called Piccpals and they can send you covers for your picc line. I don’t even know if I will have one yet. I can’t even sleep comfortably with my bad arm, how am I supposed to sleep with a picc line stuck in me for the next 24 weeks. Will I ever get a decent night’s sleep ever again?
I need to stop over thinking. I’m meeting Katie tomorrow morning so hopefully she can give me some advice.
May Contain Nuts 