Halfway - and qualified good news

I'm halfway through chemo and it's working.

I had my first treatment in the middle of winter, and tomorrow I'll be having treatment number 7. Spring has well and truly sprung, we've been into lockdown and are coming out again and the tumour in my pancreas is half the size it was last November.

Of course it's qualified good news. I still have a terminal illness. But there haven't been a lot of moments to celebrate since November so I'll take what I can.

My most recent chemo treatment was in the middle of March. I was feeling absolutely exhausted and beginning to ask myself how much more of this I could take. After discussion with the oncologist I decided to give myself a bit of a holiday and take two weeks off from chemo over the Easter holidays. That coincided with a follow up CT scan at the end of March.

So for the past couple of weeks I've been making the most of being able to do some little things I enjoy - longer walks, cooking, gardening and even tidying up and catching up on 'life admin'. And of course having time with the family. 

Most of the side-effects have cleared and I've got a lot more energy. The only thing that hasn't cleared up is the slight numbness in my lips and mouth, and changes to my sense of taste. I was really hoping this would improve as it is bothering me more than I would have expected. One of the drugs, oxaliplatin, can lead to peripheral nerve damage which can be long term, and I'm worried that this could be permanent. 

Bizarrely it's sweet tastes that I can't detect so chocolate tastes a bit odd, and the other thing that tastes weird is water - which you don't think has a taste at all until it's different.

So the day before yesterday we saw the consultant again - face to face this time which was nice. And he shared the results of the follow up scan which shows that the main cancer has shrunk by about half, and the secondaries in the liver are also smaller. (Before you ask, surgery is unfortunately still not an option.)

We talked through options for the future. Part of me wanted just to stop chemo now, take the win and start living life again. But after a bit of discussion we agreed that I will continue. Knowing that it is working makes it more bearable. We also decided to exclude the oxaliplatin, at least for the next few cycles. Hopefully that will show whether the numbness in my mouth is going to recover. And apparently the other two drugs can still be effective in shrinking the cancer.

A couple of months ago a friend sent me a link to a blog about an experience of cancer which referenced this poem 'The Guest House' by a 13th century Persian poet, Rumi. I hadn't come across it before but I've been thinking about it a lot recently.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

Jalaluddin Rumi, translation by Coleman Barks (The Essential Rumi)

I've been thinking about this cancer as that unexpected visitor that I need to (at least) accommodate. It and I are going to need to get along for a while, and right now it feels like that is just a little more achievable.

This blog is dedicated to so many people who have phoned me, emailed me, sent cards, flowers, magazines, books, food and so much love since November. I know I haven't replied to you all but please know that your support has helped so much on this journey xxx