Bed rest

Still spending most afternoons horizontal, and invariably when I wake up there is a furball somewhere nearby! Oscar is sleeping in sympathy.

On Saturday I got a letter from the hospital telling me I have an appointment for an abdomen scan. This brought on a paroxysm of panic - what do they expect to find? Is there something they're not telling me?  Then I remembered they said the last chemo affected my liver function - so it's probably that. Ironic after years of probably drinking more than the average RDA of alcohol, if it takes one dose of chemo to mess with my liver! Thankfully livers are resilient and repair themselves quickly. 

Tomorrow I see the oncologist to discuss options for the next dose - originally planned for Wednesday but I think they will delay it by a week.

The scariest thing about the recent spell in hospital was that it brought me face-to-face with the end game of this disease. And although I remain optimistic that my prognosis after treatment is pretty good, it was still poignant and very sad to see such poorly people.

Holiday

Usually at this time of year I go on holiday. I like to go when everyone else comes back. It's cheaper, less busy and cooler.

The pic was taken last September in the Ukraine. It shows me on a rather large trike on Yalta beach. The trip was the latest in a series of Clare-and-Emma adventures. We've done Hong Kong, Morocco and Romania in recent years.

This year I can't go abroad, of course, as need to stay close to Nottingham City Hospital, so am enjoying other people's holidays vicariously instead. Joy's just got back from New Zealand, and Jules is off again today to Majorca.

The boat, however, provides the perfect staycation. Today we've been for a walk down to Beeston Marina to choose new moorings. Proves I must be feeling better.

While the cat's away..

On Saturday night while I was in Purgatory the house survived an invasion by 20 twenty-year-olds.

We handed over the house to John's daughter for her 20th birthday party - theme The 90s.  Funny - the 90s seems like yesterday to me but to them it's their childhood.

I was quite glad I was out of the way in hospital with other things to worry about. JP stayed at Gerard's and pitched up at 9am to find the girls already clearing up.

Seems a good time was had by all, no damage done, and the neighbours are still speaking to us. I keep finding bangles and pink hairspray everywhere!

Been horizontal most of the past couple of days but slowly recovering. Had a blood-test earlier and my bloods are on the up and up. It's reassuring to know that if I pick up a virus I can now fight it off myself.

Home again

Released into the custody of JP. These are my homecoming flowers. Thank you for all your messages of support.

The last 12 days has to be the most frightening episode of this cancer journey so far. I felt as though I'd been poisoned - like Litvinenko after the Polonium 2-10. And it went on and on and on until the eventual trip to hospital on Friday.

Saturday night on the cancer ward, I thought I'd died and gone to Purgatory. My drip machine was faulty, and every fifteen minutes or so would bleep, waking me and anyone else in the vicinity - like some kind of sleep deprivation torture. Added to that, the night was punctuated by groans, moans, sobs and the laboured rasping breathing of someone in the last stages of life. She died the next morning. Maureen RIP. 

Things got better from there on as I got to know some of the other patients. There were some very poorly people there; Maureen was not the only one to die over the weekend. But every single person I met was positive and resourceful. And the nurses, of course, were angels.

Opposite me was a 21-year-old girl with a rare cancer. Can't remember what she called it but there is only one other person in the UK with it. She was brave and bubbly. There was a young lad in one of the side rooms who just wanted to hear guitar playing - so they brought musicians in to play to him. 

My sore mouth struggled with the hospital food, so JP brought me runny porridge in the mornings, Rob came bearing jelly and Jules brought home made soup. As the effects of the poison and infection wore off  I started to feel better.They sent an excellent junior oncologist to see me - someone with people skills and empathy. We talked through my options. Nobody is going to force me to have another dose of Docetaxel if I don't want to. There are other drugs and reduced doses.  

Docetaxel, I've learnt, is derived from the Yew Tree. Should have listened to my mother when she said "Don't eat the berries - they're poisonous!"

Life at the Hotel Winifred

Doctor: 'I feel less worried about you now I've eye-balled you.'

Me: 'Why?'

Doctor: 'You're alert and talking! Your chart looked pretty grim. How are you anyway?'

Me: 'Better than yesterday but I'm still getting the shivers.'

Doctor: 'well you've got a nasty bug and you've got no immune system. If you weren't on anti-biotics you'd almost certainly die!'


That was yesterday. No sign of any doctors today but the shivers have gone and I feel almost normal!


And there is a guitarist on the ward and it's not John!


Winifred 2 is a derelict ward in the oldest part of the hospital. They put people here when the proper wards are being cleaned or decorated. It's kind of half ward half store cupboard. Some of the bays are full of hospital junk.


Never mind. It's doing its job. Blood count's on the up and temperature's getting cooler. Not sure when they will let me out but will keep you posted.

Change of Scene

Once more I am enjoying the hospitality of Nottingham City NHS Trust - Winifred 2 Ward.

After ringing the chemo clinic daily and being advised to 'sit tight' today someone said 'come in and have a blood test'.  So I did.

Turns out I've been battling an infection with a white blood count of zero.  No wonder I felt ill!

They are pumping me with I.V. antibiotics.  Dictating this to JP so he can update blog.

Temperature watch

Spoke too soon. Not out of the woods yet. Shivers and shakes returned, and for the past couple of days we've been monitoring my temperature every few hours. If it goes beyond 38 it means a trip to the hospital. So far although it has teetered tantalisingly close it has not quite reached that magic number.

I've been on the phone to the chemo clinic alot. The last nurse I spoke to said in view of the severity of my symptoms they might lower the dose next time. Good, because there have been times these past few days when I've wondered how the hell I can get through one more treatment let alone two. At this rate I will be limping across the finish line.

Oh the positive side, I've had some nice chats with people on cancer helplines. The house is full of jelly and we're having an Indian summer!