Change to my chemo regime

I went to my pre-assessment this morning where they took my bloods and weighed me.  Phew, my weight has stabilised.

I saw an oncologist (I seem to see a different one every time) and told her about my two trips to A&E, including the blood clot in my lung.  Her face was a picture and she kept telling me that I was 'very lucky' and that I must have a good heart and lungs.  I didn't like to ask how lucky, or if I was lucky because I hadn't actually died.   Sometimes it's best not to ask a question you don't really want to know the answer to.

Brain scan

The oncologist is also going to arrange for me to have a brain scan. This is to see whether there was any damage from when I knocked myself out a few weeks ago (see Games Without Frontiers), not to see if I do indeed have a brain.  Many folk do wonder about that.

You know what?  My body will have been checked out thoroughly as a result of having had cancer and going through treatment.  That's got to be a good thing.

Change of drug

Because of the side effects from the docetaxel, I am now going to be switched to weekly chemotherapy on a drug that will seemingly be less harsh on me but just as good.  It's called paclitaxel.  I'll be getting weekly infusions for the next six weeks.  They are also going to try to merge my day for pre-assessment with my chemo day so that I don't have to go two days in a row to the City Hospital.   That will save me making an extra round trip every week and I won't have to hang around for two consecutive days.   Every cloud and all that.

Blood thinning injections

As for the blood thinning injections the oncologist reckons I'm going to be on them every day for six months.  Six months!  My stomach is already starting to look like I've done ten rounds with Floyd Mayweather (he's a boxer, right?).

PICC line

I also got my PICC line put back in today.  I won't tell you exactly what one of my friends with cancer calls the line, but let's just say it rhymes with PICC as in 'PICC the ****'.  She really makes me laugh and is an absolute tonic.  

The nurse who put the line back in jokingly called me a 'sensitive critter' when she did it to me last time (see Second chemo and its aftermath). So I got my own back and took the opportunity to rib her mercilessly today.  Boy, we had some craic.

There was another nurse in with us and we started to talk about holidays and travel when all of a sudden I felt a sharp stab in my left arm.  The nurse had taken the opportunity when I was distracted to inject the local anaesthetic into me.  'Hey, you didn't warn me!' I said.  'Yep, I knew you'd be distracted by talking, you sensitive critter.'  Cheeky.

Sad songs

There was one incident whilst I was waiting between sessions that did upset me a little.  I went into the ladies loo and could hear gentle singing coming from one of the cubicles.  A young woman then emerged, with red rimmed eyes, and apologised to me.  I told her not to worry as it sounded lovely.  'I sing because it's the only thing that stops me from crying,' she said.  I didn't want to pry but she explained that she had been on chemo and radiotherapy.  

My heart just went out to the woman.  I wasn't sure what to say so did my best to reassure her, probably not very successfully.   I felt so sad. 

A week's chemo holiday

This afternoon after I got home, the hospital rang me to say that my white blood cells were far too low to proceed with my pre-planned chemo the next day.  It would be too risky and so they needed to defer my chemo for a week.  Heck.  

On the plus side I am now getting a week off chemo/side effects, my taste buds will hopefully improve further - and most importantly - I should feel well enough to go the Belfast Giants first home league game of the season on Saturday after all.  Get in!

PS

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Games Without Frontiers

My earlier blogs featured song titles.  I gave up after a while because I couldn't think of suitable ones for some of the things I was writing about. But on this occasion, I've think I've found something appropriate. Hopefully all will become clear...

Fourth chemo

I had my fourth chemo cycle the other day.  This time it was the dreaded Docetaxel.  I say 'dreaded' because everyone I have spoken to says how it wipes you out and has particularly nasty side effects e.g your nails go black or fall off, you can get sore feet and hands, you can get bone/joint pain, your fingers go numb etc. 

The good thing about the fourth cycle was that the drug went in through a drip rather than a manual injection.  I was able to sit there and relax more than I had been able to do at my previous visits. 

Docetaxel by drip

The timing of my appointment was also a bit later.  I was gutted when I went into the chemo bay and saw the tea trolley disappearing around the corner.  Blast, I'd missed the tea and biscuits!  However imagine my delight when about half an hour later lunch turned up.  It was soup, sandwiches, yoghurt or fruit and a cup of tea.  Heaven.

The chemo infusion only took about an hour.  Afterwards, the nurse removed my picc line as the doctor the previous day had felt that it was positioned too high in my chest and was possibly contributing to my breathlessness.  Now, as the picc line was secured in my vein with staples it was rather sore when the nurse unclipped the line.  The other patients looked over either in wonder or in horror as they saw me cover my eyes and grit my teeth.  And then in a flash, the line was out!  Not too bad, actually.

I'll get the picc line repositioned next week.  In the meantime, I can have a proper shower or a nice deep bath and not look like some strange contortionist wearing cling film trying her best to dodge water so as not to get her arm wet.

At the time of writing, the soles of my feet are incredibly sore and my fingernails are beginning to feel sensitive.

It's a knockout!

The Saturday after the chemo wasn't a good day.  I had stopped taking the steroids the day before so I was really wiped out.  I slept on and off for 18 hours that Saturday.   

In the evening, I got out of bed as I felt I needed to get up for a while.  As I walked around the bed, my head started to swim and my vision became blurred.  I got extremely dizzy.  I tried to get back to my side of the bed to lie down when all of a sudden I collapsed and hit the back of my head on something.  My first thought was, 'Oh, I hope my husband heard that.'

The next thing I remember was opening my eyes and seeing my husband leaning over me, holding my hand and telling me not to close my eyes.  

I had knocked myself out and was lying on the bedroom floor.  Luckily he had heard the thud, thought it was our son moving around but decided to check on me anyway.  He found me stuck between the wardrobe and the bedside cabinet.

I felt like I was in a dream.  I could see my husband's face through half closed eyes and hear his voice through mental fog.  I just wanted to lie there and go back to sleep.  I knew that the back of my head was wet. Shit, I thought, I've cut myself.  I put my hand up to feel around and looked at my fingers.  I was relieved to see it was just sweat.

I managed to sit up with my husband's help but was very groggy.  I then vomited a couple of times.  My first thought - and this is absolutely true - was to feel annoyed about the waste of good homemade soup and cheesecake.

My husband rang the Oncology Helpline who told him I had to go to Accident and Emergency [Emergency Room] at the local hospital.  The Helpline said they would ring ahead and organise an ambulance for me but as it was a Saturday night and the hospital was under pressure, we agreed I could go by car.

I arrived at the hospital about 11pm and as a chemo patient I was fortunately fast tracked.  I was still awake and lucid but all I wanted to do was to go back to sleep.  At 2am, after having my blood pressure taken, heart checked, blood and urine tested, and a test for concussion, the duty doctor sent me home having concluded I was probably dehydrated. 

The lesson here is that I have to drink more fluids - at least 2 litres every day not including tea or coffee - and not to stand up too quickly.  I ended up with a bit of a bruise on the back of my head.  I was very, very lucky. My husband is a bloody hero.

A week later and coincidentally my son has just gained a St John Ambulance Youth First Aid badge and certificate.  Slightly too late for last week but at least I know he's got some handy skills in case I do something stupid again.  

The first Belfast Giants game of the season

It was the start of the ice hockey season yesterday and I was debating whether I should go to the Belfast Giants exhibition game against the Manitoba Bisons.  Yeah, hell why not.  I reckoned that if I sat somewhere quite isolated then I might not pick up any infections.  

I have a pink Belfast Giants jersey which I bought a few years ago in support of breast cancer (ironic, eh?).   So I put that on, plus my teal bandana, and sat in a quiet area of the arena with my husband.  I bumped into some hockey friends who gave me hugs and came over to chat to me.  

My Belfast Giants breast cancer jersey

I was surprisingly vocal during the game.  Those who know me know that I normally am but I wasn't sure I'd have the energy on this occasion. 

I was glad I went as I got out of the house and enjoyed myself.  

Manchester United v Leicester game

My husband is a lifelong Manchester United fan and whilst we were at hockey last night, he had recorded the game so he could watch it when we got home.  He avoided Twitter and Facebook all night so that he wouldn't inadvertently find out the score. 

When I got home from the hockey game, I put the TV on, as I do.   I walked into the bedroom and then I heard a lot of swearing.   Unfortunately, I'd left the TV channel on Sky News.  What was the first thing that he heard?  The bloody score.  Oops.

Enjoy life

I think it's important to still try do the things I enjoy during chemo, even if I have to make some adjustments.  I found it helps to keep some a degree of normality in my life and is quite therapeutic.   

I also don't want the treatment to define who I am and constrain me too much.  That's not to say I will take unnecessary risks, but it's about being sensible, listening to my body but also making the most of life and opportunities that present themselves.  Chemo is crap but I don't want it to put me in a box and throw away the key.

Games without frontiers.  Hmm, perhaps a way of helping me look a little differently at life now?  

PS

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