After feeling good and healthy yesterday it is great to feel the same today. I gives me a lift to think that I feel good now and the rest of the cycle has the potential to become easier.
I was surprised last night with a call from my GP. She is notoriously difficult to book an appointment with and it comes down to a Monday morning 8am scrum down on the telephone where you can book for the next two weeks ahead. The reason is simple, she's very good.
I missed the Monday morning opportunity and told the surgery, as she had suggested that I arrange an appointment ot "keep tabs" on my progess.
She listens to what you say and doesn't necessarily express outright opinons but is clever at guiding your thoughts in the right direction. I am lucky to have so many quality carers at so many different levels.
The only problem I had left was tinnitus, which is caused by one of the chemotherapy drugs (Cisplatin - the major one that takes 4 hours on the drip at the beginning of the cycle). This drug can be exchanged for another, so that is something to consider for the next cycle.
I took a visit back to the Canadian oesteopath because I have been treated successfully for tinnitus using cranial oesteopathy in the past (after having a DJing accident). Generally it is considered that you have to live with tinnitus and when I had it before it was very severe. I had an ear infection in both ears (in the middle ear) and the ears were also blocked, so having a screaming pitch sound in one of the ears for six weeks was disturbing. The worst aspects were that the tinnitus was waking me up in the night and I was also frightened that I had permanently damaged the ear (because of the volume that got shunted through it in the accident).
That puts a perspective on my current problem, which was mild by comparison.
I had a touch of tinnitus in the first cycle, but it didn't concern me because of what I had previously experienced. However, it has now been constant since day three of this cycle
The trip to the oesteopath has not cured it and perhaps that is asking a bit much as the problem is caused by the drug rather than by a mechanism. However, it has eased it significantly and enough so that it doesn't wake me up. I remember that last time I had the problem it took a couple of visits before it was remedied. Regardless, I am now in a much better place at night time and also have had an explanation of how the esoteric art of cranial osteopathy is mean to work (courtesy of the mad Canadian).
A good night's sleep and good health; all that is missing is a nice cold beer with condensation sliding down the outside of the bottle.
Thursday, 29 April 2010
Wednesday, 28 April 2010
Back Into the Light
On the 8th day there was light!
After a fairly difficult (but by no means disastrous) seven days the eighth day of the cycle has seen me back to a far better place.
I can taste my food without the all-pervading sense of chemotherapy and my energy levels are more controlled and less volatile. I did a day in the office and it passed without any difficulty.
I am hoping that I am through the worst that the cycle has to offer and can coast through the remaining thirteen days, ready to ramp it up one more time before the build up to the operation.
The last few days have been difficult, not because they were physically difficult, but because there was a desire on my part to stamp normality on the situation as quickly as possible (which can be a tad unrealistic). It ended in an outburst last night and I woke up feeling like a different person.
It's not a good thing to lose your composure, especially as it effects those close to you but a good part of this journey is psychological and I feel a lot lighter on my feet now that I have "Released the Beast".
After a fairly difficult (but by no means disastrous) seven days the eighth day of the cycle has seen me back to a far better place.
I can taste my food without the all-pervading sense of chemotherapy and my energy levels are more controlled and less volatile. I did a day in the office and it passed without any difficulty.
I am hoping that I am through the worst that the cycle has to offer and can coast through the remaining thirteen days, ready to ramp it up one more time before the build up to the operation.
The last few days have been difficult, not because they were physically difficult, but because there was a desire on my part to stamp normality on the situation as quickly as possible (which can be a tad unrealistic). It ended in an outburst last night and I woke up feeling like a different person.
It's not a good thing to lose your composure, especially as it effects those close to you but a good part of this journey is psychological and I feel a lot lighter on my feet now that I have "Released the Beast".
Busy Bee
First off, a happy birthday to Notoplip.
I had to think hard what to get him for his birthday. Perhaps I got it wrong. Perhaps it should have been a collagen injection? Anyway, Notoplip for the next four months you are the same age as me again!
Notoplip's birthday heralds a busy but relaxing weekend. First up, on Friday, will be a birthday meal out with SandD, Notoplip & Sushi, and Kitten.
On Saturday we are heading south towards Winchester to spend the day with "The Thatchers", who are the most congenial of hosts.
On Sunday it is BBQ time in the French Arrondisement at the "Coobees" followed by Monday's skate spectacular with the Italian clan.
Kitten will be making sure that I take plenty of time to rest too.
I had to think hard what to get him for his birthday. Perhaps I got it wrong. Perhaps it should have been a collagen injection? Anyway, Notoplip for the next four months you are the same age as me again!
Notoplip's birthday heralds a busy but relaxing weekend. First up, on Friday, will be a birthday meal out with SandD, Notoplip & Sushi, and Kitten.
On Saturday we are heading south towards Winchester to spend the day with "The Thatchers", who are the most congenial of hosts.
On Sunday it is BBQ time in the French Arrondisement at the "Coobees" followed by Monday's skate spectacular with the Italian clan.
Kitten will be making sure that I take plenty of time to rest too.
Monday, 26 April 2010
Riding the Beast
My assumption that the second tranche of chemo would feel as if it had "layered" itself upon the first seems to be correct.
I say that without any degree of certainty but in the knowledge that things seem to be amplified.
Touches of tinnitus in the first cycle have manifested as being constant since early in this cycle (Friday). Difficulties with certain smells being overpowering have ramped up a few notches further. I opened the living room door and was hit by the smell of cleaning fluids from the bathroom in a way that even someone of the palate of Egon Ronay may not have experienced. Either that or it is a realisation of my own palate subdued for many years.
More than any one particular event the difference between this and the first cycle seems to be that the first cycle was like a big wave that washed over me but I stood firm and it passed. I let it go instinctively, but I immediately started preparing for the next wave because I knew that the only way to meet the next would be to travel with it.
Things still feel ok. Sure, the hair is looking flakey but I'm still looking and feeling robust. I haven't shaken off the chemical taste of the chemotherapy like I had at this point last time, but I am living with it well. My appetite is back and I eating well (even though it requires an effort) but the constant sense of chemicals does not promote the attractiveness of any particular food. I say "sense of chemicals" because it is not just the taste, there is a feeling throughout and particularly in the stomach. Swamped but swimming.
There are many other different facets to the experience, but what I have described probably gives an insight. None of it is particularly unbearable, but it is disorientating because it isn't part of my previous realm of experience.
I'll continue to flow with it but will be a little cautious about frittering away energy and I will continue to be very grateful that I have, so far, avoided any of the nastiness that is often associated with the treatment.
I imagine it will get tougher during the next cycle and some aspects of this phase may not be a joyride, but the healing process swirls on.
"The beast has taken a drink and is going up the mountain track".
I say that without any degree of certainty but in the knowledge that things seem to be amplified.
Touches of tinnitus in the first cycle have manifested as being constant since early in this cycle (Friday). Difficulties with certain smells being overpowering have ramped up a few notches further. I opened the living room door and was hit by the smell of cleaning fluids from the bathroom in a way that even someone of the palate of Egon Ronay may not have experienced. Either that or it is a realisation of my own palate subdued for many years.
More than any one particular event the difference between this and the first cycle seems to be that the first cycle was like a big wave that washed over me but I stood firm and it passed. I let it go instinctively, but I immediately started preparing for the next wave because I knew that the only way to meet the next would be to travel with it.
Things still feel ok. Sure, the hair is looking flakey but I'm still looking and feeling robust. I haven't shaken off the chemical taste of the chemotherapy like I had at this point last time, but I am living with it well. My appetite is back and I eating well (even though it requires an effort) but the constant sense of chemicals does not promote the attractiveness of any particular food. I say "sense of chemicals" because it is not just the taste, there is a feeling throughout and particularly in the stomach. Swamped but swimming.
There are many other different facets to the experience, but what I have described probably gives an insight. None of it is particularly unbearable, but it is disorientating because it isn't part of my previous realm of experience.
I'll continue to flow with it but will be a little cautious about frittering away energy and I will continue to be very grateful that I have, so far, avoided any of the nastiness that is often associated with the treatment.
I imagine it will get tougher during the next cycle and some aspects of this phase may not be a joyride, but the healing process swirls on.
"The beast has taken a drink and is going up the mountain track".
Sunday, 25 April 2010
"Calmer"
Firstly, well done to Super Frank and Little John for their sterling efforts in completing the London Marathon today.
Super Frank, whilst you are whooping it up out on the lash, I do feel a certain sense of satisfaction in parting with my hard earned cash for you worthy charity cause. You will note that your time is just outside 10 minute mile pace (I'm afraid that is an earlier "running" gag covered on the page leading up to diagnosis), so I trust that you enjoyed your leisurely stroll through London :-)
Seriously though, well done to both of you. It is worth mentioning that whilst Super Frank did the marathon based on a well-executed and arduous training program, Litte John hasn't been able to train for the last seven weeks due to leg problems. Part of me wishes that he crawled over the line and he has the DVD to watch, but I can't see it as he is a resolute man.
Whilst I cannot claim to have headed to the giddy heights of running over twenty six miles today, I can lay claim to doing a bit of proper exercise. Teach's gentle ribbing about rollerblading with the Boogle prompted me to go ice-skating with her this morning and hopefully get back into some sort of regular routine. We enjoyed our time on the ice and it is one of those activivies that you don't notice how much energy you are expending. Being five days into a chemo cycle probably plays a part too. Whilst Little John was running in the marathon his wife ("Fifteen - Love") and children were spotted and engaged at the latter end of our skating session. It was good to see them before they headed to London to offer support to the man putting his body on the line.
That lunchtime activity paved the way to the end of my energetic outbursts this weekend but it was an articulation of a decent attempt to see out the first wave of this cycle, which has gone well. Sunday, afternoon I was allowed to fade into the background with a visit to Notoplip's and Sushi's for a BBQ. It is a great benefit to be able to chill without taking any responsibility for the kids for a couple of hours. Kitten will tell you that I do that all the time, but it is different being able to do that when you are out.
Not all aspects of being ill are unwelcome and one of the better things is that I am slightly removed from a life of getting up in the morning, jumping on a train, hiding in an office, jumping back on a train and going to bed.
I am still working but there is a little more time around the edges and just stepping into the garden in the morning to do some Chi Kung brings me closer to nature. On Saturday morning I had the family cat "Cookie" for company. He was sitting on top of the wooden frame of the childrens' swing, which is below our apple tree. He had been there only for a moment before he was joined by one magpie and then another. Watching the interplay between the magpies and Cookie passed the time, especially as it was a bit early for "my hoverfly" to put in an appearance.
Saturday, was a busy day for me and it was good to get out and about.
All in all, I am in a good place at the moment and the sadness that seemed to hang over the female members of my clan a couple of days ago has lifted. The energy returns quickly and with it the smiles.
I see the second phase of chemotherapy as being the most beneficial of the three pre-operative cycles. This is simply because the first is an acquaintance and the last is en-route to the big event. The second is the place to find the soul of this experience and crystallise it.
There cannot be a judgment on whether the future will dictate that reflection on these times will eventually reveal joy or sorrow, although the odds are stacked much more favourably with me now. I will stay as I am, happy and hopeful and will let nature exactly her ruthless and truthful judgment over the coming weeks, months and years.
After all, that is what she does.
Super Frank, whilst you are whooping it up out on the lash, I do feel a certain sense of satisfaction in parting with my hard earned cash for you worthy charity cause. You will note that your time is just outside 10 minute mile pace (I'm afraid that is an earlier "running" gag covered on the page leading up to diagnosis), so I trust that you enjoyed your leisurely stroll through London :-)
Seriously though, well done to both of you. It is worth mentioning that whilst Super Frank did the marathon based on a well-executed and arduous training program, Litte John hasn't been able to train for the last seven weeks due to leg problems. Part of me wishes that he crawled over the line and he has the DVD to watch, but I can't see it as he is a resolute man.
Whilst I cannot claim to have headed to the giddy heights of running over twenty six miles today, I can lay claim to doing a bit of proper exercise. Teach's gentle ribbing about rollerblading with the Boogle prompted me to go ice-skating with her this morning and hopefully get back into some sort of regular routine. We enjoyed our time on the ice and it is one of those activivies that you don't notice how much energy you are expending. Being five days into a chemo cycle probably plays a part too. Whilst Little John was running in the marathon his wife ("Fifteen - Love") and children were spotted and engaged at the latter end of our skating session. It was good to see them before they headed to London to offer support to the man putting his body on the line.
That lunchtime activity paved the way to the end of my energetic outbursts this weekend but it was an articulation of a decent attempt to see out the first wave of this cycle, which has gone well. Sunday, afternoon I was allowed to fade into the background with a visit to Notoplip's and Sushi's for a BBQ. It is a great benefit to be able to chill without taking any responsibility for the kids for a couple of hours. Kitten will tell you that I do that all the time, but it is different being able to do that when you are out.
Not all aspects of being ill are unwelcome and one of the better things is that I am slightly removed from a life of getting up in the morning, jumping on a train, hiding in an office, jumping back on a train and going to bed.
I am still working but there is a little more time around the edges and just stepping into the garden in the morning to do some Chi Kung brings me closer to nature. On Saturday morning I had the family cat "Cookie" for company. He was sitting on top of the wooden frame of the childrens' swing, which is below our apple tree. He had been there only for a moment before he was joined by one magpie and then another. Watching the interplay between the magpies and Cookie passed the time, especially as it was a bit early for "my hoverfly" to put in an appearance.
Saturday, was a busy day for me and it was good to get out and about.
All in all, I am in a good place at the moment and the sadness that seemed to hang over the female members of my clan a couple of days ago has lifted. The energy returns quickly and with it the smiles.
I see the second phase of chemotherapy as being the most beneficial of the three pre-operative cycles. This is simply because the first is an acquaintance and the last is en-route to the big event. The second is the place to find the soul of this experience and crystallise it.
There cannot be a judgment on whether the future will dictate that reflection on these times will eventually reveal joy or sorrow, although the odds are stacked much more favourably with me now. I will stay as I am, happy and hopeful and will let nature exactly her ruthless and truthful judgment over the coming weeks, months and years.
After all, that is what she does.
Saturday, 24 April 2010
A Motivational Image - Philosophy Corner
After my last post you could be forgiven for thinking that the mood is down, but that isn't the case. I have played my way nicely through the first difficult days of chemotherapy and the mood in the Swordfish camp is good and the smiles are back in all corners of the household.
I have been meaning to make use of the following image for quite a while as it connects with me on a number of different levels. I found it on the web when looking for an image to add colour to a concept. I have been given permission to reproduce it here by a very nice German man who took it on is holiday.
Personally, I think that it is a beautiful perspective of the Welsh mountain, Cadair Idris.
The fundament of the analogy that this piece is based on comes from an unusual source, which is dealing in shares. It was based on a discussion with the only person on the list of public followers of the blog who I have never met, "Barcap". You will note that his ID picture has a similar theme. Barcap's name is indicative of field that he worked in for many years and in recent times he has been making his own recovery from ill-health but has been going about it in an altruistic way.
I have been meaning to make use of the following image for quite a while as it connects with me on a number of different levels. I found it on the web when looking for an image to add colour to a concept. I have been given permission to reproduce it here by a very nice German man who took it on is holiday.
Personally, I think that it is a beautiful perspective of the Welsh mountain, Cadair Idris.
The basic tenet of the analogy is that sometimes things have to go down to find a base (support) from which to operate before going resuming an upward path. Our speak was "The Beast is going down to the river to take a drink and rest before continuing up the mountain path". I am sure you can imagine that this was elaborated on a lot with "frightened fishes" when the beast stuck his head under water (people selling unnecessarily) and all sorts of other whimsical deviations.- any excuse to wax lyrical. However, the analogy works for me in a number of ways.
When looking at the picture as an articulation of where I have been the last few days, or whether looking at it from the principle of the journey as a whole, imagine me as "The Beast" looking from the perspective of the first hill down into the lake.
If the perspective is of the last few days then the lake is the chemo; a necessary stop off which, whilst seemingly unwelcome, is an essential on the continuous path of healing; up the mountain track.
If the perspective is of my life then the lake is the cancer, which is bringing me to rest (or to "heel") to consider and re-evaluate the onward journey of my life; up the mountain track.
The image of Cadair Idris holds a special place for me. I walked the mountain many years ago when I was 15 or 16 with Gandalf, Bee and Bee's brother and remember seeing the view of the lake from up the mountain. It is a powerful and magnetic draw on the soul and is in many ways symbolic of the magical and mystical aura that has perpetuated around the mountain.
Legend has it that Idris, King of Meirionydd or Idris Gawr (Idris the Giant), was a giant and astronomer of Welsh tradition. His rock-hewn chair was supposed to mete out death, madness or poetic inspiration to whoever spent a night on it http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cadair_Idris.
I finish the entry with this thought and a final note regarding "Barcap".
Barcap, has managed to to demonstrate an altruistic nature whilst recovering from illness (a time when it is easier to be selfish and introspective). His on-line financial website and PC software have generated charitable donations of nearly 15K for underpriviliged children via "Action for Children". His time has been given freely in all aspects of the project.
Friday, 23 April 2010
Weeping Women
Chemotherapy is a cycle by its nature. A large proportion of the drugs go into your system intravenously and work their way through your system. There are the morning and evening Capecitabine tablets to take throughout the cycle (along with the other elements of the cocktail) but the bulk go in intraveniously at the beginnning of the cycle.
At the beginning of the cycle it hammers you and as you work your way through the cycle normality quickly returns in different degrees. As things progress the things that you felt on the inside manifest on hte outside e.g. hair loss doesn't start immediately but it is here with a vengeance now.:-)
With the extra week to my first cycle to recover from low white cell counts I was looking in good shape before starting the second cycle. The evening before going in for chemo I was out in the local streets and parks rollerblading with my daughter (Boogle bunny) and playing football in the garden with my son (The Huffty).
I knew what was coming the following day, but when you are looking from the outside it is a shock because you see someone in good physical shape one moment and then needing sleep, rest and suffering nausea the next.
I went to bed shortly after coming home from chemo on Wednesday and left kids who hadn't kissed their daddy goodnight and also found out the next day that I had also left a wife to weep downstairs.
My discovery was because I posed the direct question to Kitten yesterday of "Has it occured to you that I could die?"
Of course we have discussed all possibilities in the past but it is good to be so direct on the odd occasion to illicit an truthful respone and gauge the current feeling.
Kitten was honest in her appraisal and said that she had never really countenanced it before seeing me in chemotherapy on Wednesday when she felt that I had looked vulnerable for the first time. She had spent Wednesday night weeping and more the following morning when invited in from the playground for a chat at school.
Boogle bunny has also been suffering with the emotion of it recently and that is more difficult because she is of an age where she is old enough to understand the situation at some level, but still not fully conversant in expressing how she feels.
The whole point of this entry is to re-iterate what I have said before and that is that I am at the eye of the storm and it is easier for me to see what is going on with me and stay calm. It is not always so easy for those around and close to you and they need support.
I try and give support as much as I can and explain as much as I can about the process and how I feel, but at the first couple of days of the chemo cycle require you to be inwardly focused and selfish because you have to get through it. For me yesterday was difficult to get through because of he nausea, but I rested enough and was selfish enough to get through it without "wasting the drugs".
The women's tears may not have been welcomed by them but they were all part of the healing process, perhaps a few of them will have gently caressed my soul.
Following on from the post "Kitten Quips"......It's good to be loved.
I have added this line immediatly after finishing the blog because as soon as I published it (to the second) Radio 2 started playing an old song by Blue Oyster Cult called "Don't Fear the Reaper".
Clearly, I am back on the money today :-)
At the beginning of the cycle it hammers you and as you work your way through the cycle normality quickly returns in different degrees. As things progress the things that you felt on the inside manifest on hte outside e.g. hair loss doesn't start immediately but it is here with a vengeance now.:-)
With the extra week to my first cycle to recover from low white cell counts I was looking in good shape before starting the second cycle. The evening before going in for chemo I was out in the local streets and parks rollerblading with my daughter (Boogle bunny) and playing football in the garden with my son (The Huffty).
I knew what was coming the following day, but when you are looking from the outside it is a shock because you see someone in good physical shape one moment and then needing sleep, rest and suffering nausea the next.
I went to bed shortly after coming home from chemo on Wednesday and left kids who hadn't kissed their daddy goodnight and also found out the next day that I had also left a wife to weep downstairs.
My discovery was because I posed the direct question to Kitten yesterday of "Has it occured to you that I could die?"
Of course we have discussed all possibilities in the past but it is good to be so direct on the odd occasion to illicit an truthful respone and gauge the current feeling.
Kitten was honest in her appraisal and said that she had never really countenanced it before seeing me in chemotherapy on Wednesday when she felt that I had looked vulnerable for the first time. She had spent Wednesday night weeping and more the following morning when invited in from the playground for a chat at school.
Boogle bunny has also been suffering with the emotion of it recently and that is more difficult because she is of an age where she is old enough to understand the situation at some level, but still not fully conversant in expressing how she feels.
The whole point of this entry is to re-iterate what I have said before and that is that I am at the eye of the storm and it is easier for me to see what is going on with me and stay calm. It is not always so easy for those around and close to you and they need support.
I try and give support as much as I can and explain as much as I can about the process and how I feel, but at the first couple of days of the chemo cycle require you to be inwardly focused and selfish because you have to get through it. For me yesterday was difficult to get through because of he nausea, but I rested enough and was selfish enough to get through it without "wasting the drugs".
The women's tears may not have been welcomed by them but they were all part of the healing process, perhaps a few of them will have gently caressed my soul.
Following on from the post "Kitten Quips"......It's good to be loved.
I have added this line immediatly after finishing the blog because as soon as I published it (to the second) Radio 2 started playing an old song by Blue Oyster Cult called "Don't Fear the Reaper".
Clearly, I am back on the money today :-)
Thursday, 22 April 2010
Kitten Quips
Yes that does say "Kitten Quips" and not "Kitten Quits".
On the way home from the Marsden yesterday I was chatting on the phone with my mother and was talking about my weekend close encounter with the squirrel.
I was saying that I just knew that he was going to jump on me and at the end of the day they are "horrible, diseased creatures"
Kitten quipped "just like you then".
It feels great to be loved.
On the way home from the Marsden yesterday I was chatting on the phone with my mother and was talking about my weekend close encounter with the squirrel.
I was saying that I just knew that he was going to jump on me and at the end of the day they are "horrible, diseased creatures"
Kitten quipped "just like you then".
It feels great to be loved.
Second Cycle of Chemo Underway
My second dose of intravenous chemotherapy went ahead yesterday as planned (There is a medical resume at the foot of the post for the Holby City and Casualty addicts and professionals).
Today, I will be learning lessons from he first cycle and taking things easy. I went to bed shortly after I arrived home yesterday because I felt very queasy and will be doing my best to avoid a repeat of the nausea that I suffered at the beginning of the first cycle. Last time I arrived home at 11:30pm, so going to bed more or less straight away was a given.
It all went well yesterday, but is a lengthy affair and I was at the hospital for two hours longer than the longest other person receiving chemotherapy in the Medical day unit.
It's a bit surreal that Kitten and I were dropping the kids off to school early yesterday before a nine hour session at the Marsden, but it is a clear indication that this is a family affair and not just my problem.
Kitten spent most of the day with me and Notoplip came up duing the lunchtime when Kitten had work to do. I even managed a half hour snooze this time too.
It is much easier receiving chemotherapy a second time because the mystique around it has been removed. I just chatted my way through the day, read a couple of newspapers and watched a film on the laptop with Kitten in the afternoon. We looked a right couple of charlies watching the film sharing a pair of headphones, but I think she liked it. Copious amounts of junk were consumed during this period
I've got a good handle on the drugs that I am being administered and here is a resume from the medics amongst you.
A Day in the Life of Chemo Chenisovich (A high-brow joke for a change)
8:45 am Arrived at the Medical Day Unit
10.15 am Got started with the saline and potassium / magnesium drip and a couple of tablets to "increase the flow of water" and a flush bag
11:30 am Anti-sickness and steriod injections
11:40 am start the bevacizumab (Avastin) - (Chemo but strictly speaking a targeted Drug)
12:55 pm Epirubicin drip from syringe (chemo)
1.15 Cisplatin drip (Chemo) and Mannitol drip (Diuretic)
5.10 Saline and potassium / magnesium drip and flush bag
6:15 Depart
Today, I will be learning lessons from he first cycle and taking things easy. I went to bed shortly after I arrived home yesterday because I felt very queasy and will be doing my best to avoid a repeat of the nausea that I suffered at the beginning of the first cycle. Last time I arrived home at 11:30pm, so going to bed more or less straight away was a given.
It all went well yesterday, but is a lengthy affair and I was at the hospital for two hours longer than the longest other person receiving chemotherapy in the Medical day unit.
It's a bit surreal that Kitten and I were dropping the kids off to school early yesterday before a nine hour session at the Marsden, but it is a clear indication that this is a family affair and not just my problem.
Kitten spent most of the day with me and Notoplip came up duing the lunchtime when Kitten had work to do. I even managed a half hour snooze this time too.
It is much easier receiving chemotherapy a second time because the mystique around it has been removed. I just chatted my way through the day, read a couple of newspapers and watched a film on the laptop with Kitten in the afternoon. We looked a right couple of charlies watching the film sharing a pair of headphones, but I think she liked it. Copious amounts of junk were consumed during this period
I've got a good handle on the drugs that I am being administered and here is a resume from the medics amongst you.
A Day in the Life of Chemo Chenisovich (A high-brow joke for a change)
8:45 am Arrived at the Medical Day Unit
10.15 am Got started with the saline and potassium / magnesium drip and a couple of tablets to "increase the flow of water" and a flush bag
11:30 am Anti-sickness and steriod injections
11:40 am start the bevacizumab (Avastin) - (Chemo but strictly speaking a targeted Drug)
12:55 pm Epirubicin drip from syringe (chemo)
1.15 Cisplatin drip (Chemo) and Mannitol drip (Diuretic)
5.10 Saline and potassium / magnesium drip and flush bag
6:15 Depart
Tuesday, 20 April 2010
Chemo Brought Forward
I was due to have pre-chemotherapy tests tomorrow followed by chemotherapy on Thursday.
I went into work early this morning to avoid the rush hour and, before leaving the office for a customer meeting, I thought I would chase the Marsden as there was some doubt over the availability of a Thursday slot for me.
Sam the Eagle and I were on our way in a black cab going down the London Wall towards Bank when the phone went
"Can you come in for pre-chemo checks this morning as we have got a slot for you tomorrow".
I'm familiar with the saying "Never look a gift-horse in the mouth" and thought it applicable even if the gift is being drip-fed chemicals for nine hours.
So I made my apologies and diverted the cab to the nearest tube station.
The blood tests were all good so I am ready for some more rock and roll tomorrow. There are a few loose ends to clear up for work this afternoon though.
At least I am back on course with the treatment and that is the main objective.
I went into work early this morning to avoid the rush hour and, before leaving the office for a customer meeting, I thought I would chase the Marsden as there was some doubt over the availability of a Thursday slot for me.
Sam the Eagle and I were on our way in a black cab going down the London Wall towards Bank when the phone went
"Can you come in for pre-chemo checks this morning as we have got a slot for you tomorrow".
I'm familiar with the saying "Never look a gift-horse in the mouth" and thought it applicable even if the gift is being drip-fed chemicals for nine hours.
So I made my apologies and diverted the cab to the nearest tube station.
The blood tests were all good so I am ready for some more rock and roll tomorrow. There are a few loose ends to clear up for work this afternoon though.
At least I am back on course with the treatment and that is the main objective.
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