Treats in store

These are things I'm looking forward to when treatment is finished.....

• Return of the taste-buds - mulled wine and mince pies tasting as they should (Christmas is coming).
• Hair growing back - thicker and even curly!
• Holidays in the sun - or at least further than a couple of hours drive from Nottingham City Hospital
• Running, swimming and going to the gym; I actually miss these things. (The gym has promised me a personal trainer when I return.)
• Fingernails growing back. Yes they're knackered too!
• Going to gatherings - Christmas is coming.
• Cinema trips - only been once while on chemo and had to go early afternoon when the place was empty.
• Skin rejuvenating - chemotherapy dries it out and bits are peeling off.
• Ditching the thermometer, and with it the paranoia
• Having a massage -  banned during treatment because it stimulates lymph glands.

Well Halloween weekend is nearly over and not one trick-or-treat-er. What are we going to do with all those Quality Streets?

Crazy dog dash

Just been for a walk with a kamikaze canine. She's small but fearless, with an irrational dislike of certain groups of people - like joggers and cyclists. She chases anything that growls, including motorbikes and large agricultural vehicles.

Usually we pre-empt these encounters by getting her on the lead, but today she spotted some sort of harvester roaring down the lane, and legged it out of the field straight into the path of four massive wheels.

I feared we could be scraping dead dog up off the road. But she survived, having seen the monster off good and proper.

Managed quite a few miles. Not bad considering I'm nearing the nadir

Tattooed lady

Today I go for radiotherapy planning. They will put me in a 'big doughnut' (CT scanner) to map out where everything is.

They will also give me tattoos to show them where to point the beams.

Question is, what designs to go for? A tasteful flower, discrete butterfly, or an anchor, perhaps? I'm rather taken with the Japanese bird motif below.
Yesterday I popped into town to visit a former colleague who is retiring. During her career she has been down a mine with Princess Anne, gone shoe shopping with Raisa Gorbachev, and met Nelson Mandela. She had thank you letters from three former Prime Ministers.

It was good to see her and others I used to work with. Now that chemo is over I have a sense of re-emerging into the world. Lots to look forward to, not least being able to go to 'gatherings'. Christmas is coming -  perhaps I should go for a festive tat...

Smart streets

Just to prove you can fit three of these in the space it takes to park one large gas-guzzler.

Here is Squirty - our yellow smart, gone to join two friends one fine day.

And below is an example of some smart Parisian parking! Taken on a trip to Montmartre a couple of years ago.

Sleepless on steroids again - for the last time! And this week have to inject myself daily with a potion to boost immunity, in the hope of keeping out of hospital this time round.

Never had to plunge a needle into myself before. Better not make a habit of it...

First in last out



Last chemo!! No more gory pictures after this one - promise!

Booked a nine am appointment for my fnal chemo in the hope  I'd be out quickly. Finally emerged after treatment at nearly NINE PM!

NHS time excelled itself today:
9am: Arrived. Advised to wait for doc to approve bloods.
12 pm: Wednesday's bloods not up to scratch. Had another blood test.
12:15pm Went home to wait for results.
3pm: Phoned - bloods now ok. Advised to come back in an hour.
4pm: Returned to chemo clinic
7pm: Called in for treatment.

I was the last one out - at ten to nine in the evening - nearly 12 hours from the original appointment time.  Despite being allowed home for a few hours in the afternoon, still spent SIX HOURS in the clinic waiting room. Long enough to read the whole of Salmon Fishing in the Yemen.

Nobody's fault, really. Just one of those days of big delays. The nurses were run ragged. Never mind. None of this matters because after today there'll be no more chemo!! Yay!

Just three weeks recovery time then I will be able to discard the thermometer, get fit again and lose the paranoia about germs. This time round I hope to avoid being admitted to hospital.

What do they want - blood?

My veins are knackered - it's official. Shot to pieces by chemo and cannulation. Just been for a blood test. Now even expert blood-takers have to jab more than once to find a vessel that will yield.

Never mind. Not much more of this. Last chemo on Friday - fingers crossed.

Meanwhile public sector workers are avidly awaiting this afternoon's Spending Review announcement, with some Departments facing a possible 40 per cent cut. I predict more blood-letting before the day is out....

It's not a competition

The Post article sparked a mini-debate among readers about funding for different types of cancer. Two people expressed annoyance that breast cancer seems to get more funding - and better publicity - than other forms of cancer. A third person pointed out that this is because more individuals are affected by it and that being the case the funding is evenly proportioned.

What occurred to me on reading these comments was, it's not a case of either/or. Surely any publicity for any type of cancer is good. True, those involved in breast cancer campaigns do seem to be particularly good at it - but there is no reason why this should detract from efforts to raise the profile of other types of cancer. There is no cap on awareness.

Interesting, since I've been diagnosed I've noticed that rarely a day goes by without some form of cancer being in the news. Today's Post features two cancer fundraising events which took place yesterday, the 'pedal  it pink' event (pictured) and a walk in Wollaton Park to raise money for the Maggies centre. And pancreatic cancer got a mention on this morning's Today programme.

While I was disappointed my last chemo got delayed it's kinda nice to have a 'free' week, when I'm feeling ok. We went for a bike ride yesterday in glorious sunshine along the river and I felt refreshed and healthy afterwards. Ok it was flat, but it fuels hope that I can recover fitness quite quickly after treatment is finished. Who knows, I might even make next year's half marathon. If I do I will run it in aid of Cancer Research UK - which raises funds to help all types of cancer.

Fame at last?

When I heard the Nottingham Post were doing an article I envisaged three pars on about page 17 - or at the very most a half pager.

They've given it front page lead plus double page spread inside. Blimey!!!

Here's the links:
http://www.thisisnottingham.co.uk/news/Breast-cancer-blogger-s-inspirational-story/article-2765155-detail/article.html
http://www.thisisnottingham.co.uk/news/Blogging-breast-cancer/article-2765154-detail/article.html

Picture's not bad, either, although I think I prefer the one of seven Alsation police puppies....
http://www.thisisnottingham.co.uk/news/Notts-police-seven-new-pup-crimefighters/article-2766198-detail/article.html

Christmas is coming

Showed up at chemo clinic feeling de-mob happy only to learn that although the neutrophils are up my liver is malfunctioning again so they delayed the final treatment till next Friday (22nd).

Bummer!

Also this week had a chat with the radiotherapy man about the next phase of treatment and discovered I have to have five weeks' worth (25 sessions), not two as I had previously thought.

Radiotherapy is, from all accounts, a doddle compared with chemo, but it involves daily trips to the hospital. This will start four weeks after the last chemo.

Which, by my reckoning, will mean my last ever treatment will be on Christmas Eve. Could be cause for a celebration - liver permitting!

Release day

For me and - hopefully - for the first of the Chilean miners.

Scores on the doors: neutrophils 0.8,
haemoglobin 10.0. Both heading in the right direction so they let me go. If this trend continues I should be fit for the final chemo on Thursday.

Got out late afternoon, and the sun came out too so we went for a walk round Woolly Park. Took this picture looking out across the lake. Autumn is a beautiful season.

Waiting Game

I am patient - in every sense of the word. Still in hospital. Waiting for neutraphils (white cells) to increase; for red cells to stabilise and for my bone marrow to start producing more cells. Production is slow - yesterday I had 0.2 neutraphils. I need at least 1.0 before they'll let me out.


I feel fine actually. Nice ward. Own room. I've stayed in worse hotels. Food leaves a bit to be desired but visitors have been supplementing with fresh fruit, cake and home-made soup.

I've been killing time with frequent forays off the ward. I am getting to know this site quite well. Yesterday John and I made a great escape off the hospital campus to Mill Lakes. It was a gorgeous day, like summer.

Waiting for today's blood results. Fingers crossed I'll get out soon. Just have to be patient....

Weekend on the Ward

I'm sampling hospital hospitality yet again.  Admitted yesterday when they discovered my white blood cells were down to zero again.

Berman 2 offers superior accommodation, spacious private room plus en-suite shower.

At ONE AM they decided to wake me up and wheel me through deserted corridors to Radiography for a chest x-ray.  Reasons unknown!

They wont let me go until my bloods are back up.  Could be in for the weekend.

Here we go again

Woke to a high temperature (37.9). Waiting for the chemo clinic to open so I can phone for advice. I may have to go into hospital again to get checked over.

This is getting boring. They must be sick of the sight of me by now. And I'm certainly sick of the sight, smells and sounds of that place.

Racking my brains to think of where I could have picked something up; the most likely place is the doctors' waiting room, where I went to renew my fit-note. That involved spending half an hour in an airless space with people coughing around me.

Perhaps for the sixth and final session, I should live in an oxygen tent like Michael Jackson, and only go out wearing a mask. I've still got a SARS mask they gave me at Hong Kong airport, I've also got this this rather fine feline article made for the Venetian ball scene. Some say it's sinister.

Not long to go now. Thursday 14th is my last chemo treatment - three weeks after that I can put an end to this neurosis about germs.

Reunited

This is Oscar with his namesake Oscar 2 - who has recently come home after spending the past 18 months on my desk at work.

My boss brought him round last week with the rest of my personal effects. I've now officially left that Department and transferred back to the bit of Government I worked in before (for complicated reasons involving austerity measures and office closures.)

He also brought gifts, a card, and lots of nice Spanish food, so we had a little leaving lunch here. Thankfully chorizo is one of the things I can still taste.

Oscar 2 is full of beans, and handy for throwing at people. In a previous workplace, he was banned from my workstation because he didn't conform to the clear desk standard. You were allowed one photograph but no soft toys.

Talking of former colleagues, the Nottingham Post is coming to interview me tomorrow for a feature for breast cancer awareness month. Their feature writer is a girl I used to work with 20 years ago when I was a reporter. It will be good to catch up. They're sending a photographer too - better spruce up the wig!

Highs and lows

The mid-point between two chemo sessions is called the nadir - which means low point. It's when blood count is most depleted and energy levels hit rock bottom. It's where I am now. Even small amounts of exertion send my pulse rate racing; getting up the hill in Woodthorpe Park is out of the question. I take comfort in the knowledge that I only have to do this one more time.

Recently when I did manage to struggle up the hill, and flopped down exhausted on the bench at the top, I noticed the man sitting next to me was equally out of breath. 

"Can't believe I used to run up this hill!" I said.

"Me too!" he answered.

Turns out he's a guitar maker who developed lung problems through breathing in wood spores. We were both on steroids so we compared notes.

Funny how through this cancer experience I've connected with more strangers than I ever did while at work, even though my job-title is communications manager!

Accounting for taste

Chemotherapy messes with your taste buds. In some people, they go completely, so eating becomes merely a mechanical exercise with no enjoyment involved.

In my case, sense of taste has become progressively toned down. I have a metallic, acrid tang in my mouth all the time. Eating provides some relief, but is usually a disappointment because most things don't taste as they ought to.

Favourites like bananas and chocolate taste like plastic. Some stronger flavours - ginger, pineapple and a few spices - manage to partially break through, but there is one thing which tastes EXACTLY as it should, and as it always has, and that is Marmite.

Nutritious, sharp and mouthwatering, it cuts through all that chemo crap.  Love it or hate it, thank God I love it. Marmite is masterpiece.

Guess what's on toast for breakfast!