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First treatment is over. Another 3,4 or 5 to go. You have experienced the symptoms. The whole thing now feels real. The fatigue associated with chemotherapy is so extreme it is almost funny. When was the last time you could not lift a finger literally ?
I remember being heartened by the thought , invariably around 4am, that if I pulled through I could at least be able to say : ‘I’ve done it’
Goal setting, even weird ones, is supremely important during all this and have come to believe that, it helps to piece together resistance and belligerence towards the pathetic environment that surrounds cancer and in turn , towards the disease. For, generally speaking, you are constantly being met by agreeable people with ready , understanding smiles and who can talk needles and nausea and pain but no transport difficulties, car-parks, lost wages or inability to help with the homework. These are your problems. They are helping to save your life.
The second treatment is looming. Mentally it is worse than the first. Apprehension and fear gave the first one a sense of occasion. Second time round you know what to expect and it is grim and tedious. You probably have lost your hair by now, which does not help the spirit. Chemotherapy and wig do not sit comfortably together, especially if you prefer to lie down during the treatment. The indignity of having to go to the toilet with the drip attached is sufficient in my view without a wig askew as well.
Use the time between 1st and 2nd session to experiment with make-up / wig ideas. It is easier to decide when you still have what at least resembles hair and skin tone. It is a bit like looking for a job or a man. Easier to find one from an engaged position. Buy a new , cheap, loud handbag to keep all the things that you need during the treatments. You can throw it away symbolically at the end.
Scour the net for treatments (facials, massages, reflexology, aromatherapy etc). A lot of them come free with the badge. Try some for future reference. Avoid places dedicated to treatments for cancer patients unless you feel the need to and will enjoy talking shop with other sufferers. Remember, any cosmetics counter in a department store will give you a make-over/make-up for free.
Chemo day 2
You know the drill. Keep busy the day and night before, keep telling yourself that the time really goes quickly between and during treatments and remind those around you that you will probably be out of action and needy again for a couple of days. Your children will probably love it. Take-away 3 evenings in a row does not happen that often.
At the end of session 2 you might feel that you have reached a turning point. The worse is over. You lost your hair, you are getting used to the process, you know what to avoid and can resolve to fight for the remainder except for the dreaded scan in between 3rd and 4th session. The reminder that all may not be going well.
You are told when your appointment is. You are presumed to be able to make it at the time that you are given. They know that you know that you will be there no matter what. I wonder how many cancer appointments have been missed?
I am lucky to live at walking distance from the hospital.
I met this obviously wealthy woman recently, who told me that she works for a charity (or out of charity as it turned out) two mornings a week in the canteen of a London cancer hospital and quoted a decent profit made each year from it, which, of course, goes into cancer research. ‘ I butter scones, make cups of tea and all that for these poor people” she chirped looking in self-amazement at her surviving nails. ‘ Poor?’ I asked. ‘Dahling’ she replied’ they all congregate in that reception , hundreds of them, arriving on average about 2 hours before their appointment having travelled far’.
Hungry and thirsty for watery coffee and stodgy scones lovingly buttered by her manicured hands, between massage appointments for her and her 16 year old daughter, in case God exists.
I didn’t reveal that I was in the midst . I want to observe her from a distance next time I am there. I might even arrive earlier just for that.
Your name is called. Numerous people are fussing around you in preparation for the Consultant’s/Professor’s arrival. You are shown an ante-room, you are told that He will be with you as soon as possible, asked if there is anything you would like to discuss in the meantime. You do. You will have to ask the doctor. You take your book out to read or pretend that you are. You are met with disbelief at the irreverence: “ The doctor will be here shortly. Here, undress from waist down and pop on the bed, you can keep your briefs on”
How long does it take to pop or hop on the bed? you wonder. Why can’t it happen after the handshake with the doctor?
If you are lucky and the clinic is running on time, the Doctor is looking at your notes as you as you are entering the room. Your searching eyes fall on the bridge of his nose. You are trembling inside. You know he has another 30 patients to see but you can’t help feeling that you deserve to be treated as special.
The tumour has shrunk. You are doing well. You can’t wait to punch the air.
What chemo effects? You are flying to the next session.
Treat yourself to a new pair of shoes and maybe that crazy wig?
Tip/Warning : Propylene Glycol *(Two birds in one shot courtesy of BP) costing about £ 14/gallon.
A colourless, odourless liquid that derives from gas , found in tiny quantities, as a coupling solvent in most cosmetics , shampoos ,sunscreens, baby wipes and other things.
Mixed VERY sparingly, a few drops will do, with a baseline ointment such as E45 and infused with your favourite scented oil is a truly luxurious, skin penetrating, hydrant at a fraction of the usual cost.
There is controversy about it. I read much and satisfied myself that it is harmless in very small doses. My quarter of a gallon is in its 5th year. Would recommend that you read about it as it can have very nasty and permanent side-effects .
Recommend :Master Class with Maria Callas - CD to listen to during MRI scan. Even if you do not like opera.
I will try to lay my hands on Robert Schimmel’s book ‘Cancer on $5 a Day’ recommended by fellow blogger Julie Yamamoto.
