Here we go again (again)

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 aged couple walked in. I noticed that neither of them were wearing masks. The young nurse who was dealing with me asked if they'd done Lateral Flow Tests. No, they said, they hadn't had to do them before, and why was it needed? The nurse got a bit flustered and I was tempted to point out that they might be sitting in the waiting room next to someone with a compromised immune system. But I kept stum, and eventually the nurse was able to persuade them to wait outside while she checked the situation with someone else. I don't know what happened, but I do know Covid hasn't gone away.

Well after that little entertainment, I got on with the chemo. As with with the first day of school, mostly, it wasn't too bad. I didn't have any bad reactions to the drugs and there were a couple of familiar faces among the nursing staff which was nice. They even remembered that I'm not known as Catherine (my first name). I had a good chat with one of the cancer support nurses.

I had decided in the end to go for the Gem-Abraxane combo. Gemcitabine I had last time, but Abraxane is new to me. It was a difficult decision to make because there is no data on effectiveness at this stage so really it's a stab in the dark. In the end I decided that if I stuck with the previous drugs, and they weren't effective, I would always wonder what would have happened with Abraxane...so I'm going with that. If the side effects are too unpleasant, I can always switch back to GemCap.

The Abraxane is a weirdly thick and opaque solution so it takes a bit longer to flush through. Apparently I can look forward to sickness, possible hair thinning/loss and possible peripheral neuropathy which may or may not last. Oh joy.

It's now Saturday and I've been a lot more wiped out in the last few days than I ever was with GemCap. We've had some visits from friends which has been lovely but I slept most of Thursday afternoon and still felt pretty wobbly on Friday morning. And let's just say I'll need to stock up on the anti-sickness and diarrhoea meds...

In my last blog I said I thought I would have something more profound to say in a bit about the results of my scan. I've been trying to work out what I'm feeling.

It does feel like the cancer has shifted gear slightly. A few months back I wrote about feeling like I was at the start of a rollercoaster, just before it starts to run away downhill. And now it feels like maybe I am near that tipping point.

And bizarrely in some ways that feels good. The anticipation of something bad is often harder than the thing itself. And I've been anticipating this moment for a long time. I'm not sure how much more waiting I can take. 

We were talking about this the other day and my husband said, 'Don't give up.' 

I don't think I'm giving up. The chemo being tougher than I expected has made me wonder if I can manage a full cycle, let alone two. But maybe one cycle of this, and one of the gentler GemCap will still knock it back enough that we can have a good holiday with the boys in the summer.

And even on a rollercoaster, there are slow times as well as fast ones. I just need to keep trying to live one day at a time. 

I'm still doing my '100km in May' walk to raise money for Traidcraft Exchange. (That link will take you to Facebook, if you aren't on Facebook ask me how you can donate!) 

I took this photo on my walk this morning - the may blossom in the hedgerows is almost over. This time last year I didn't think I'd see it again. I think it's unrealistic to expect to make it to May next year but what's important is that I've had THIS experience. We all live on borrowed time. I just know that I do.

This blog is dedicated to the immensely patient staff of Nick Jonas Ward, Royal Hampshire County Hospital, Winchester.