Ups and downs

This latest bout of chemo has hit me harder than the earlier ones.  I've had no energy and when I walk I find I get out of breath quite easily.  I just want to sleep or sit on the sofa and watch box sets on Netflix.  I couldn't even face the thought of writing a blog.  But I feel quite a bit better today.

Infections

Although chemo can be a life saver, it can play havoc with the body.  For example, over the last couple of weeks, I've had thrush in my mouth, a tongue like a sponge and an infected little finger.  I've been desperate not to let the infection get worse as that could have serious implications. As my body can't fight the infection on its own due to compromised immunity, I'm now on my third course of antibiotics and second lot of ointment.  

That'll teach me to try to pull out a hangnail (if you're on chemo and tempted to do it, DON'T!).

White blood cells

I also had to have a white blood cell injection because my white cell levels were low.  It went into my stomach fat (I've plenty of it) and was pretty quick and painless.  My bone marrow should hopefully start to produce more white blood cells in time for my next treatment.  

I was a bit nervous about the injection as I'd heard some grim stories about the side effects such as bone pain but luckily I had nothing of the sort.  I was a bit alarmed however when I looked at the composition of the injection and 'e-coli' was mentioned.  Bloody hell!

Food and drink

There's one thing that has really pissed me off: food generally tastes disgusting.  I love my food so this is a particularly unwelcome side effect. It has been especially bad during the first two weeks of this latest chemo cycle.  Every mouthful has been like eating cardboard.  

The thought of certain foods and drink also makes my stomach turn. Last week the only things I actually wanted to eat were salty items such as roasted peanuts, crispy onion rings, Ritz crackers followed by Starburst as dessert.  Healthy, eh?  

Even tea and our tap water, which usually tastes crisp and pure, tastes weird.  As for chocolate (including a lovely homemade chocolate cake a neighbour gave me), it feels far too rich and cloying and I've struggled to eat it.  I never ever thought I would say that about chocolate.

  

I did manage to meet up with a couple of work colleagues for a few hours.  Whilst they knocked back cocktails (with my blessing even though I was as jealous as hell), I stuck with the mocktails.  Even the bubbles in the mocktails made it feel like I had a million tiny needles shooting into the roof of my mouth every time I took a sip.

Listen to your body

What I am doing though is listening to my body more.  If I feel tired, I take a nap.  If I can't walk too far, I stop and sit down.  I try not to rush around as much as I used to but I sometimes forget and then my husband has to nag *remind* me.  

As my taste buds have been slowly recovering, I have actually felt like I want to eat more fruit, salad, vegetables, olive oil and brown rice.  It's strange how the human body seems to know what it needs.

I look forward to the day I can start to taste the delights of food again.  I intend to savour every mouthful. 

PS

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Second chemo and its aftermath

Take your PICC

I had a 'PICC' line inserted last week.  It's a thin, flexible, tube that goes into a large vein above the bend of your elbow until the tip is in a large vein just above the heart*.  Sounds gross doesn't it, but the thought of getting it put in was worse than reality.  

Having a PICC means I can now get my chemo drugs injected and bloods taken through the line.  That's such a relief, as the vein I had the chemo put in last time was starting to hurt and harden and that was only after one treatment.  I didn't need to have a PICC but with limited choice of arms to use for needles, I wanted to go for the easiest and most sensible option.

I had some local anaesthetic in my arm and as the nurse threaded the tube into me, I said to her 'Is it supposed to hurt?'  She smiled and said, 'Hmmm, not really, but you're probably just a sensitive critter!' 

The chemo the next day went in much more quickly and easily than last time.  Phew.

Sleep or lack of

I found it so difficult to sleep the night I had the chemo.  I was tired but wasn't tired, if that makes sense.  As I lay in bed trying to drop off, I could feel my heart palpitating.  I was genuinely becoming more frightened by the minute and was worried that if I went to sleep I wouldn't wake up in the morning.  I kept trying to rationalise things by blaming the steroids.   Yes, it had to be the steroids, didn't it.  Didn't it?

I kept waking up in the night and my heart would be fluttering unevenly and I felt on the verge of panic.  I was tempted to get up and phone the helpline, but told myself that if I still felt like this the next day I would ring them.  I tossed and turned all night long. 

The next day I felt absolutely knackered but the palpitations had subsided a bit.  I refused to take a nap despite feeling so bone weary.  I was angry, ratty and irritated at every little thing that I felt, thought, saw, read and encountered.  Things seemed to be conspiring against me too: I dropped clean washing on the patio, I grated my thumb on my vulnerable arm on the cheese grater, I stomped angrily round the house looking for my glasses until I realised I was already wearing them.

I went to bed at 8.00pm that night and slept a bit better. 

Cancer is hateful

I've started to get a really uncomfortable sensation in my throat and upper chest too.  I can't even begin to adequately describe what it feels like.  It's like I've swallowed a bunch of gigantic fishbones that have lodged sideways in my throat and that my neck and collarbone have got a tight band wrapped around them.  It almost feels like I've got some sort of rheumatism in my upper chest and throat.  I've spoken to the helpline, described the symptoms and they've given me advice.  But it is incredibly uncomfortable and disconcerting.

See cancer?  It is shit.  It is a bastard.  It is evil.  I never knew there were so many implications from having cancer.  I hate what I look like.  I hate feeling crap.  I hate the fact it has happened to me.  I hate the thought of living in the shadow of this awful disease possibly returning some day. 

You don't ever think cancer is going to happen to you.  But it can.  And it does.  My advice to you is to do all you can - as far as possible - to prevent it.  Please don't put yourself through what I and numerous others (in worse situations than me) have to go through.

To finish on a lighter note, here's a picture of me with a stupid homemade chemo cap.  I was having a 'good' (in relative terms) day that day but I'm finding that my sense of humour is starting to dwindle.

PS

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*source: www.macmillan.org.uk