Always in my thoughts

It was seven years ago today that my Dad passed away.

I’ve talked a lot about my Dad on this blog. He was bloody-minded and stubborn and always liked to do things his way.  I think I might take after him ... ;-)

And, like me, he was a perpetual fidget. He couldn’t sit still and relax and always had to be ‘doing’ something, however mundane. Right up until the end he was drafting plans for household improvements, designing theatre sets, directing plays ... I was, and am, incredibly proud of him.

Ultimately, when they finally managed to drag him away from his computer or out of his workshop, he spent his last few days at St Giles’ Hospice.  Many of those reading this from the Lichfield area will be familiar with St Giles and its work and probably know someone who has been a patient there.

As an independent charity, they need to raise funds and this month have created a ‘Starflower Garden’ of Remembrance in which personalised Starflower Pegs will bear the name of friends and loved ones who are no longer with us.

And so I have sponsored one. I thought it would be a nice gesture, particularly as I am going up to see my Mum in a few weeks for her birthday and will be able drop by and see it for myself.

The same goes for anyone else who happens to find themselves in Whittington; please pop in and take a look.  And if you do spot ‘Brian Martin’, please be sure to give him my best ... x

The countdown begins ...

Eight weeks today and my tumour will be history.

It’s good to finally be able to plan for the operation and know when I will or won’t be able to do things. Obviously there is always the risk of infection and/or complications but, assuming all goes well, I’m hoping the radiotherapy could also be done and dusted by around the end of August.

We had some preliminary warm-up celebrations at the weekend. My sister travelled down from Hereford and we variously drank, danced, ate and pub-quizzed with another fifteen of my friends. It was really great fun. My sister is already planning her return trips for June and July!

So for now, I’m on a ‘good’ week. I’m still quite tired but I think that’s to be expected after such a busy weekend. I do have a few nice nights out planned with Mr P. but during the day, apart from some general pottering, there really is no imperative for me to get anything in particular done.

It’s a hard life ...

May the fourth be with you!

What an absolutely brilliant day! I am now formally registered as a patient at The Royal Marsden Hospital where I will undertake the remainder of my (post chemo) treatment.

We've waited a long time for this to happen but I’m so glad that I persevered and got myself transferred from Ealing Hospital. The facilities at the 'Marsden are second to none and I have absolute confidence and faith that I will get the best and most appropriate treatment according to my need.

And ... I've also got an operation date! My tumour (and the old lymph nodes) will be removed on Tuesday 3rd July. All things being equal, this looks like being a day procedure (under general anaesthetic), but this will be confirmed later in June. However, the date is fixed. Hurrah!

I'd always been keen to mark the end of chemo by doing something fun to celebrate my birthday at the end of June and now this can double-up as a massive 'Goodbye, Good Riddance!' party for our uninvited guest. I fully intend to see the little f*cker off in style!

I'm so happy, I can't stop smiling.

'Ave it!

Onwards and upwards

I thought I’d better write a little post today because sometimes, if I don’t, people get worried and think that I must be very unwell.

Often that is the case. However, in this instance it’s more that I have nothing much to report. The muscle spasms and pain are subsiding. It’s not gone but it’s more general weakness in the limbs. I stood at the sink for 10 minutes earlier but then had to sit down because my legs were too tired to finish the washing up. That’s my excuse, anyway ...

It’s not as debilitating as the last three treatments though and I have managed to see people this week. On Monday night I managed to drive and had a hilarious dinner with some friends and yesterday Lorna came round to see me.

I’ve known Lorna since about 1985 and bizarrely, despite growing up in Staffordshire and over 10 years of us not being in touch, we now live round the corner from each other in Ealing. Lorna’s had her own cancer journey, having survived ovarian cancer (10 years all clear) and losing her Dad a year after I lost mine. Her Mum has survived breast cancer too – twice!

In fact, it’s through our parents that we know each other. That and the legendary Lichfield Youth Theatre; children of the local am-dram fraternity thrust together to pen sketches, perform musicals and generally lark about every Wednesday and Sunday at Lichfield Arts Centre. Golden halcyon days.

We’re hoping to recapture some of that youthful exuberance this weekend. My sister is coming from Hereford and another of our number, the infamous ‘Quinny’, will be travelling from south London, for a one-night-only Ealing performance. I’m really looking forward to seeing them.

Fortunately Mr P. is quite a formidable force in his own right otherwise this could have been a daunting prospect for him. However, he has already been thoroughly vetted and awarded ‘honorary LYT girl’ status. And that’s quite an achievement, let me tell you ...

Living the high life!

Oh yes, I’ve plumbed new depths of dullness this morning and at 10.30am found myself – alone – in Tesco’s cafe with a cup of tea and a piece of shortbread.  My life really is that exciting these days.

This solitary caffeine and sugar-fix however, was very much needed.  If I let myself get dehydrated, or hungry, then the nausea starts to kick in.  So it was just me, nursing my brew, and a few (very) random pensioners eating fry-ups.

I’d set out early to drop Mr P. at the station and then run a few errands to try and get things done before the fatigue kicks in or the pain gets too much.

It really is excruciating: like every tiny bone in my body is shrieking at me. My feet and ankles are particularly bad but, to be fair, I can’t think of a bit of me that doesn’t hurt right now. Oh, apart from my head ... I don’t have a headache!  Hurrah!

I had been taking warm mineral baths to try and alleviate things but now I think they make it worse. Last night was particularly upsetting. We’d had a lovely evening with our friend Amy, who came round to see us, and then I decided to have a soak before bed.   Anyway, to cut a long story short, I’d only been in the warm water about five minutes and the pain in my feet and the back of my ankles became so extreme that I couldn’t move. I certainly couldn’t stand to get out of the bath, so the situation just got worse.

In the end, poor Mr P. had to lift me out like a little bald baby covered in bubbles – then swaddle me in towels to stop me shaking uncontrollably from the cold and shock. It really was distressing for both of us. There really is no room left for pride or dignity with some of these treatments!

And that’s why I want to just say again, how completely and utterly grateful I am to have someone like Mr P. to love and support me. People often forget what an enormous emotional and physical burden is carried day-to-day by our loved ones. In fact, many carers end up feeling guilty and think that their feelings are inconsequential in comparison to the patient’s – but that’s simply not true, you’re all incredibly important and special.

In the case of my lovely Mr. P, I can’t think of many 31-year old guys who would have embraced the challenge of this situation so strongly and readily.  I know he’s found it extremely hard at times but I really couldn’t have wished for a better travelling companion on this journey ...

God, what hit me?!

They weren’t wrong about the effect Docetaxel would have on my muscles and joints – I feel like I’ve been beaten up!

It started last night and has got progressively worse. It really is very painful. No matter how or where I sit, I just can’t get comfortable. Thank God for prescription painkillers ...

Fortunately, I was still relatively mobile this morning and was able to make it into town to meet my old friend, Dermot, who’d come to London for a flying visit. I’d not seen him for several years so I was determined to make it into Ealing, despite my creaking limbs.

I’m really glad I did. A lot has changed for us both in recent times but it was lovely to see him so relaxed and happy and to hear about his forthcoming move to the USA.  I know he’ll have an amazing time.

But tonight, I’m staying put. An old university friend of Mr P’s is playing a gig in central London but, much as I would love to go, I really wouldn’t be able to stand up for more than five minutes. Mr P. has gone though, with my blessing. He doesn’t like to leave me but I’ve assured him that I’m fine and that I want him to see his friends.  I think it’s important that we carry on as normally as we can, under the circumstances, and take the opportunity to relax.

Which, for me at least, now means a bath and an early night!

Cancer, take a hike!

As mentioned previously, a few of my friends and I have decided to take part in The Wild Flower Walk – a 5km fundraiser around the grounds of Syon Park on Sunday 13^th May in aid of Cancer Research UK.

I know 5km doesn’t sound that far but it’s all that I can manage at the moment, and will still let me feel that I can make a contribution to a very good cause.  It will also coincide (give or take a few days) with the anniversary of my father’s death from bowel cancer - so it will be a nice way to remember him too ...

So, if anyone else would like to join us on the day, please let me know. Alternatively, I’ve set up a Just Giving page. We’ve all donated to take part, so aren’t looking for sponsorship as such, but if you wanted to make a donation to the charity we would all be very grateful.

So, what else have I been up to?!

Well, in addition to listening to Mr P's surprisingly expert Whitney Houston impressions (long story!), today was my fourth chemotherapy treatment and my first with Docetaxol.  I have to say that, thus far, I haven’t felt any ill-effects – not even while the drug was being administered. That said, I’ve taken more steroids in the last 24 hours than I think I did in the last nine weeks, so God knows how much I’m going to fill out in the next few days.  If Team GB need a last minute stand-in for the power-lifting at the Olympics this summer – I could be their girl!

Wow! Honey, I shrunk the tumour ...

So, we're halfway through the chemotherapy and my tumour has reduced by an enormous amout. It's shrunk by 43.5% in the last three weeks alone and by over 70% in total since my treatment began.

Obviously Mr P and I are delighted and so is the Oncologist. It's clearly gratifying for him to see a patient respond so well to the treatment, because not everyone does.

However, it's important that the tumour continues to shrink and doesn't just plateau. That's why they're changing my drugs for the next three treatments to surprise the little f*cker with something new.

The tumour currently measures 1.8 x 1.8cm which, on the face of it, is quite small. However it is all relative. On someone bigger this would be quite a straightforward operation but being small and slim does seem to be to counting against me! Consequently, I may yet need to have a mastectomy but that will be decided by the surgeon. We'll find out more in the coming weeks.

And so to treatment. My next three will be Docetaxel which can cause an allergic reaction in some people – (it’s derived from the Yew tree, apparently). As a result I have to take lots of steroids both today, and tomorrow before treatment, to mitigate any potential reaction.

It's all new and unknown and feels a bit like starting over. FEC was horrible but I got used to how I was going to feel and when – but now I have to start that process again. By all accounts, you end up feeling very stiff and sore like you’ve done a really intense workout. So I think I might need to stock up on plenty of Radox ...

I also went to the Maggie’s Centre this afternoon to attend a ‘Look Good, Feel Better’ workshop.  It’s a brilliant cancer support charity sponsored by the cosmetics and perfume industry to help women manage the visible side-effects of their treatment.

The workshop was run by volunteer beauticians who gave tips on skincare and make-up application, and we also got given a very nice (big) bag of products. I also took along some false eyelashes and got a few tips but I think the main thing now is to practice. A lot!

Surprisingly, one of the volunteers also recognised me from my amateur theatre antics – having seen me perform in ‘Daisy pulls it off’ and our recent pantomime. I was very flattered, although I wasn’t sure I should be having been previously dressed as a 1930s school-girl and a green-faced fairy ...

It was also a chance to talk to some other people going through treatment. I was by far the youngest patient there and, sadly, the prognosis for some of the ladies was not good. It did rather put things in perspective.

So now I’m home and getting my things together for tomorrow’s treatment and two-to-three days camping out at Mr P’s flat while I recuperate. In fact, he’ll be here shortly. Not to collect me, mind, but for me to chaffeur him round to his Poker Night!  Fair's fair. ;-)

Girls, girls, girls ...

Today I have been left to my own devices as Mr P. and the other lads are spending the day in central London on our good friend Alan’s stag do.

The girls though, did want to play their part – and so Gemma, the bride-to-be, and I (with cameos from our female friends) prepared a little video offering for the boys to watch this morning: a salacious spoof of ‘The Good Wife Guide’ (c. 1955). 

It’s been a few weeks in the making, trying to film and edit around my treatment and recovery days, but it was good fun to do and gave me a little project to work on. And judging from the messages I’ve received, the boys seem to have enjoyed it too! (Indeed, Mr P. said he was 'very proud' ...)

However, the other ladies have been kept in suspense and won’t be seeing it until this evening when we too will be venturing out for a few drinks (although, admittedly, nothing as riotous as our men have got planned!)

I’m looking forward to seeing everyone and having a night out. I have become a bit withdrawn of late and it’ll do me good to socialise. And then tomorrow, Mr P. and I are off to another wedding. Although, what sort of state he’ll be in and when, or if(!), we manage to arrive will be anyone’s guess ...

That’s what friends are for ...

To celebrate being half-way through my chemo, I had a couple of friends over last night to drink a little wine, eat some pizza and generally chew the fat.

It was a fun evening; very low key but I think we’ll keep the big bash for my birthday at the end of June, when chemo will be finished and (hopefully) we’ll be getting ready for surgery.

My friends really are very sweet. We talked about my lack of confidence with the wig etc. and also about how they could help me. Others have telephoned and asked me about this too but the honest answer is that, for now, just knowing that you’re all there for me, willing me on, really does make a difference.

Because, in a practical sense, there’s not much to be done at the moment in that I go to the hospital twice every three weeks and Mr P. likes to come with me.  Further down the line though, we probably will need more hands on support - particularly with the radiotherapy visits, which will be every day for a number of weeks. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it ...

And so we begin to get ready for the second half. I’ve got another week before I see the Oncologist  and get myself measured but I’m hopeful for another good reduction.  I’m also keeping myself busy, with assorted lunches, dinners and nights out planned over the next few days, so the time will go quickly.

Oh, and I’ve managed to re-book onto the Maggie’s Centre workshop that I missed last week. And, fingers crossed, it really will live up to its name and give me the boost I need to ‘Look Good, Feel Better’ ...