Sorry about the gap between posts. Where was I? Part-way through a course of chemotherapy for CUP (cancer of unknown primary) in chest and throat lymph nodes ... and I suddenly realised it's been four months of treatment, and a right drag at that. I think I've been fortunate. I've had a lot of tiredness and aches, but no nausea. And at the beginning of 2013, it feels good to be alive and otherwise well. (I was well aware of the worst scenario - unslowable - with CUP).
This week I had my last chemo session for the moment, as well as the result of a repeat scan: "stable". I guess we all hope for "spectacular shrinkage" / "no trace of tumour" or something. But "stable" isn't too bad after seeing previous improvements: everything holding still, no new growth, and no symptoms. I've been signed off for three months, and get another scan then.
It is slightly frightening again. All the diagnosis stage was a terror of uncertainty, and then I felt better once treatment was under way and they were 'on the case'. Now, it's back to waiting, seeing how long the remission lasts. It's getting to the uncomfortable reality of "living with cancer", as the leaflets put it, and it still occasionally feels quite bizarre to be seriously ill yet symptomless.
It's tense too: Irene is taking the rather gloomy view that I'm on borrowed time; I take the view that any extra functional time is good. I'm looking forward to spring, getting some energy back and going on walks, having another tattoo (when my immune system's properly up to speed), finishing a book I'm working on, and seeing my family.
In hindsight, I think late autumn and winter was probably one of the worst times to go through cancer treatment: everything seemed grey, inside and out. But I'm starting to see the prospect of bright days, coasts and sunshine.
- James
