Walking through fire

Last week was tough. I was tired. My legs had gone wobbly. The soles of my feet, the tips of my fingers and my lips were numb. And my mouth felt like it had been rinsed with bleach.  And of course it was cold and wet. (see my last blog) And the fact that I am going to die sooner rather than later felt very real. The thought of going through three more cycles of chemo felt like a mountain too high to climb. I phoned and spoke to Alex, the Macmillan nurse, and she helped me think through the options. I decided to postpone this week's chemo to give myself some more recovery time.  Then on Monday I had a phone call with the oncologist and talked it through with him. He explained that the numbness in my hands and feet is likely to be due to the oxaliplatin. I haven't actually been given any of this since mid March, but it can cause peripheral nerve damage and then the stress of the other chemo drugs (the 'insult to the body' as he put it) can make it worse. (The numbness in ...

Today is 12 May - six months since D for Diagnosis Day, 12 November 2020. Six months which seem both an age and an eye blink. And a moment to look back and share a few thoughts on this cancer journey so far. So - in traditional blog list format - here are Five Things I've Learned. 1. Everyone is nice to you when you've got cancer It's true, and I've said it before, so many people - both good friends and others I don't know as well - have just been so fantastically supportive. That has really made a difference these last months.  But here I'm thinking about something else which happens with people I don't know at all.  There have been a few situations when I've had to mention that I have cancer to complete strangers - for example, people on the other end of the phone in a call centre. And the moment I do, there's a change in the tone of voice. An inflection, a sympathy overlay. Probably people do it without realising. It's really noticeable an...

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 ti...

Last time I made the mistake of writing this: 'I'm beginning to see the pattern in how I react and recover and know what to expect...' and (even bigger mistake) this: 'By a week after treatment day, I begin to feel a tiny bit more energy...'. I should have known better. That was after Chemo 3. A week after Chemo 4, I felt so washed out I could barely get off the sofa, let alone go for a walk. Hence no blogs for the last month... I've now had five (out of a probable 12) chemo treatments. Treatments are every fortnight so it is pretty relentless. I've already mentioned lots of side effects so I won't go through all that again. On the positive side, I've recently been doing some work from home for a couple of days each cycle which has been a huge boost both mentally and emotionally. Another postive (and I hardly dare write this one down) is that the pain that's been getting gradually worse since last spring has started to recede. Still there but a l...

We're all living in a shrinking world. My world seems to have shrunk faster than most. A few months ago, even in lockdown, I could go for long walks, and I was still working full time from home - so that even if my body didn't leave the sofa, my mind did. Now, in the middle of chemo, I'm stuck inside, with not much to do, and even less energy to do it. I try to get out for a walk each day but the most I've managed in the last week is around the meadow across the road, and I haven't felt up to it every day. (One of the side effects of the drugs I'm taking is sensitivity to cold, so the weather hasn't helped.) I've been trying to do a few small things each day - a phone call or a little bit of cooking - but then I have to rest up. I've always been active - someone who keeps going - and it's frustrating to say the least. I'm so envious of friends whose photos of long winter walks fill my Facebook feed. I keep wondering what it would be like if t...

I didn't expect to be writing a blog post today because I was due to have chemo treatment number 3 on Tuesday, which pretty much wipes me out for at least a week.  But... a regular blood test at the weekend showed that my neutrophils (type of white blood cell) are too low, so my oncologist has postponed treatment for a couple of weeks to let my cell count recover. I'm not unduly worried by this and it's nice to have a bit of breathing space! It also gives me an opportunity to update the blog and today I'm going to share the first of several blogs (I hope) about some of the things that have made me who I am. My passions and interests and with them some memories of special times and people. So this blog is going to be all about my interest in science, and particularly in biology and  the brain. Growing up, discussion of scientific ideas was very much part of family life. My father was a physicist, and both my older sisters studied science subjects at A-level (and went on ...

NHS gold service I could not have had better service from the NHS throughout the last six months. They say the NHS is the nearest thing the British now have to a collective religion. I'm a card-carrying member of the Church of England - but I can see the truth in this. Actually I think the whole idea of the NHS has profoundly moral - even theological - underpinnings. It's based on a belief that each person has value in and of themselves. It is one of the few areas left in our collective life that is actively egalitarian. It is about need, not about some kind of perceived 'worth'.  As I said in my first blog, I've been pretty healthy for most of my life, but my husband has had different health problems and issues and I've sat next to him in many a hospital corridor or waiting room, plus I've had two kids and been in and out of casualty and Minor Injuries over the years. Reflecting on my experiences recently, I realise that as a cancer patient, I have been on ...