Walking through fire

View from our balcony So we had an amazing holiday - cruising with the family up and back down the Adriatic. Ten days of sun, sea, amazing landscapes, beautiful cities, swimming, eating ice creams and time together.  Here are some photos just to give you a flavour... In Venice From the walls of Dubrovnik Coming in to Kotor, Montenegro And finally chilling in Roda, Corfu But now I've come back down to earth with a bit of a bump. Literally. I feel (and look) about 5 months pregnant. My abdomen had started gradually to swell since about April or May, it shrank a bit with the last lot of chemo but has been growing ever since. Originally they thought it was mostly fluid, and I think that's what I was banking on. In my head, I was hoping that the fluid could be drained, I could have some chemo and be back on track. Maybe I knew that this wouldn't be possible, maybe not, but somehow last week we managed to fit in an afternoon tea out at a swanky hotel, and a lightening trip up t

This is going to be a blog of two halves. The first half is what I was planning to write a couple of weeks ago. The second is about the last couple of weeks. **** Way back when I was first diagnosed in November 2020, among the many messages of sympathy and advice I recieved was one from a friend who had been through breast cancer herself.  'Don't forget', she said, 'Chemo is your friend.' That thought stuck in my head somehow and in the middle of all the shock and emotion and random advice which came my way at that point in time, it seemed like a helpful idea. But then through all that long first winter of chemo it felt very much like chemo was not my friend. Chemo was painful, debilitating, spiteful and just plain nasty. Despite the fact that I knew it was working, I couldn't wait for it to finish. But then when it finished, and the pain started creeping up again, I kind of wanted it back again. And that's how it's been for the last 18 months. When I

On Wednesday I went for chemo number 3.1.1...  That first trip to the Rainbow Unit for chemo 1.1 back in December 2020 seems like a gazillion years ago. Then I said I felt like the new kid at school. Now it feels like that horrible first day back at the start of a new term - you kind of know the ropes, but will it be the same? Will it be better? Will it be worse? And really I just want the holidays to go on for ever and ever... Then, things were just taking off with the Delta variant and we didn't have much in the way of Covid testing. (Remember when sticking a piece of plastic up your nose on a regular basis wasn't part of normal life?) The rules on Covid testing for the chemo ward have swung this way and that but at the moment you're supposed to have either a lab test or a home test done before you're allowed in. I say this because the first thing that happened when I got to the ward and was waiting for my observations to be done, was that a smartly dressed middle ag

Just a quick blog to save me having to write this out lots of times... This morning we saw my oncologist to get the results of my scan last Friday. It's not great news - the primary tumour has grown quite a bit since my last scan in January and there are at least a couple of new secondaries in my liver. I'm not too surprised - the pain had been gradually ticking up but seems to have been accelerating the last couple of weeks. Thank the Lord for slow release morphine. I'd already pretty much decided that I would have another go at some chemo, so that's now a definite. We're going away for a few days next week so it will be after that - and probably more of the GemCap I had last time. The oncologist has suggested that I think about having a different drug just to ring the changes a bit. (If you are interested, GemCap = Gemcitabine + Capecitabine, and he's suggesting Gemcitabine + Abraxane.) To be honest there is no way of knowing what will be effective at this sta

Another blog about my travels... but first a quick update. I finished my last lot of chemo at the end of January. The side effects took a while to clear but I am pretty much back to normal now. The skin on my hands, which was very thick and dry, is definitely better. It took a while for my sense of taste to come back but it has. And my hair is gradually thickening up again which is good. On the minus side, the pain is definitely beginning to tick up again and I've had to increase the amount of morphine I'm taking. But still a relatively low dose.  I'm due a scan at the end of the month and then I'll need to decide whether (and when) to have more chemo. It's a bit of a balancing act - when I'm having treatment, I can't wait for it to stop. When it stops, I start worrying about when I can start again. Emotionally, it's been a bit up and down. We had a lovely few days in Pembrokeshire during half term - staying in a cottage we've visited many many times

It's just about three months since I started this last lot of chemo, and I realise that I've hardly written more than 100 words about the experience - compared to the regular updates I did when I started my first chemo last winter. On the face of it, it's been much easier. I haven't had any days when I couldn't get out for a walk or do basic things around the house. I've kept on working most of the time with one or two days off each week, if that. There have been a few nagging side effects. As with the last lot of chemo, some, but not all, of my hair fell out - not enough to be worth wearing the wig which I found so stressful to choose just over a year ago.  My sense of taste has gone, which is annoying (who knew water could taste so weird?). The skin on my fingers has dried out - which means my phone often doesn't recognise me any more :-( and I've had a few unpleasant mouth sores. The worst of these was this last week - just at the back of my tongue -