Well that is it. I have not long since come home parked Bob up and crawled straight into bed.
Chemo isn't going to let me go easily. I felt instantly rough within minutes of the Cisplatin going in. That is a first. Good job it is also my last for a while.
I have done it. I have made it to the end of my first chemotherapy treatment plan. 12 sessions done. At times I have physically dragged myself at others breezed it but mostly dragged myself. For a period in the middle I didn't feel too bad but for the last few sessions I have really felt it. Judging by how I already feel this last one is going to kick me on the way out. But still I did it.
There was a point right at the start when I felt like I could not feel any worse that I really and truly questioned how I could carry on through this. How was I going to complete what felt like an lifetimes worth of sheer hell? The only thing that made me go through it was my desire to gain as much time as could to stay with my babies and my husband. Now I am glad I did. It has almost certainly added some extra time to my severely depleted stock of days left.
People have asked how I feel now that chemotherapy has ended. I am not sure. I thought I would feel elated. I thought I would be happy and want to shout from the rooftops. I do. I do feel those things but also I feel fear. I had read that often patients worry about finishing treatment. They worry about what will happen to their cancer now that it is not being treated. I am worried. I am thinking about what if the cancer immediately grows back? What if in fact it turns out that the bastard has not been shrinking since my last scan?
We did have a mini celebration, we enjoyed a spa day, it was nice to have time just the two of us. Doesn't happen very often. Though typically it was threatened by the twins deciding to both come down with a vomiting bug on the first night. First in the car and then in hotel. My amazing Dad and Step mum still insisted on taking them though the following day so we could enjoy our spa experience. So thankful for them doing that. Luckily they seemed to get over it quite quickly. Then on the Sunday we went to cheer my dad and other runners in the Anna Verrico Half Marathon. I met in person some of the amazing people from the charity or linked with the charity, all of whom inspire me and keep me and other sufferers going. It was a day invested heavily with emotion. It was palpable and it was infectious. Amazing people.
What now? What next for me, my Cancer and I? Well first we have to have a scan. This will be on Friday. We will see if the bastard, the bladder squatter, has continued to shrink or if it has stopped shrinking or worse still it has grown. Again I am nervous. I am on 'tenterhooks' already and I haven't had even had it yet.
Then we see Dr Oncologist discuss the results and hopefully(?) start radiotherapy. 8 weeks of attending the hospital each weekday for minutes of therapy. We will be nuking the bastard. Blasting the beast. I will accept no surrender. Only total and utter defeat. No more no less. Shut the door on your way out. I will not miss my bladder lodger one little bit.
For now though I will accept the inevitable roughness because I know after this week it will continue to get better. I don't have to go in and be made to feel crap again for a while at least. I will accept being bed bound for a few days and only venture out to observe my course and attend my tutorial because no amount of cancer inflicted shit will stop me from doing that. Or stop me from driving Bob. Or enjoying my family.
Oh by the way......they accepted the offer on the house.....
