And it begins .....

Chemo diary, cycle #1

First cycle of chemo today, 3 weekly from now on. Last time it was all so urgent and such a rush, I was just glad to be getting on with it and ease the pain. This time I feel so well it seems a terrible thing to put myself through something that will potentially make me feel worse before I get (invisibly) better. One of the weird things about cancer is that it's unseen, and some types have no obvious symptoms till too late, as in ovarian. It's time the cheap blood test (£7) was offered to every woman routinely on the NHS. It would save about 20,000 lives a year and the suffering of an equal number of families.

The nurses I remembered in the unit two years ago stopped by throughout the day to say hello. So nice. I almost felt glad to see them till I remembered why I was there. The day starts with blood tests which take an hour or more to process. One of mine 'failed' in that one test tube contents started to separate (there is a big word for this beginning with haemo-) before the technician could work on it, so a repeat was needed. Then the cannula ready for later chemo, and a saline drip started to keep the vein ready.

Best bit of the day next! Lunch arrived. Tuna sandwich, salad, followed by fruit salad, two favourites. In the middle, visit by Dr K, my oncologist who answered all my questions patiently. There are no guarantees with any kind of cancer, but given my response last time, and the fact that we have caught it early, he thinks there is every chance I'll get through this time too. A special kind of thinking is called for to get your head round this kind of information. It's sometimes difficult not to freak out. The next few minutes I am laughing helplessly as one of 'my' nurses brings in her new Radley handbag and demonstrates how she twirls with it to 'try it on' before 'wearing' it. It's a treat to herself for finishing her dissertation on cancer care.

Afternoon consists of anti-nausea drugs, steroids and chemo, followed again by saline, all drip fed through the cannula. Boring. I sleep when not being interrupted. Makes me want to pee all the time. Trundling to the bathroom with a stand and drips attached is not fun, but the fact that I now go 'commando' so that I can attend to my needs one-handed IS fun, known only to me, and now you! If you don't get it, try pulling up your pants/tights etc with one hand and see how far you get....

Other good news is that there is a newly licensed anti-nausea drug that Dr K has prescribed for me. Hope it works better than the several I tried last time. Plus I have my homeopathic remedies which are my favourite back stop for this situation, supplements from an Integrated Medicine Clinic (not as expensive as you might think), and a healer who works with me. She is also a transpersonal psychotherapist which is the same training I did, so we speak the same language and it helps me to come to terms with it all, spiritually and mentally.

Then my dear family and especially my husband who ferries me about and stands firm whenever I start to quake. I am held so safely by all these arms and hearts. I am, dear Blipfriends, one lucky lady.

This orchard on the way to the hospital felt a bit bleak today, like me, but also like me in a few weeks will be blossoming again:-)