It’s three weeks since the start of chemo round 2. Two of four rounds complete and round 3 starts tomorrow, with the horrible drip session…
…possibly or possibly not.
Like all good thrillers, I will keep you in suspense for a while. So, how did round two pan out?
October 12th and I’m back at the Beacon Centre. This time, I have to go in my own. I take a book, flask of coffee, hot-cross bun and nice biscuits. And my scarf, hat, gloves and extra layers. And a book and magazines.
The reception staff sign me in. ‘How are you?’. ‘Just fine at the moment, but you lovely people are now going to poison me’.
Round 2 felt much harder than round one. Certainly, the first week did, and some of the symptoms have lasted almost up to the end of the three weeks. I had constipation for several days and then squishy runny poo for several more days. The pills felt like they ‘sat’ in my stomach. I had a mild feeling of nausea for the two weeks of pill popping. The cold sensation felt more noticeable, in my fingers, toes and throat.
And my poor left arm. This takes a massive hit from the drip. Two hours of cyto-toxic poison running through it. In round one, the arm did not start to hurt until the second bag of poison went in. This time, the discomfort was immediate. It was a long two hours. I had to dig pretty deep. Everything that you have heard about how horrid chemo is, is true. It really does make me feel so much worse than the cancer ever has.
Top tip; listen to the nurses. Way back in ‘Lumpgate – the Hernia that Wasn’t’, I described how I was good at hindsight but not so good at listening, well this has not improved! My nurse for this session suggested that I use my right arm for this session. ‘It can help to alternate arms’. Being right-handed, I thought ‘nah, I’ll keep the right arm good’. Mistake. Three weeks on and I am still aware of the canula site in my left hand. It’s not painful now but it was for almost a fortnight. Tomorrow, the right arm is going to take one for the team. Posssibly…
My goodness, I was a grumpy old man for several days. Now, being a GOM was pencilled into my life plan for my late 70’s and into my 80’s. Occasionally, I practice describing young people as ‘punk rockers’ and I will pause for a minute or two outside a gentleman’s outfitters (I live in a seaside town where my 59 years places me in the ‘soon to be middle aged’ category) and look at tweed jackets. However, I still have a healthy distain for Argyle check V-necks and pastel coloured slacks.
And as already described in ‘Expresso Love’, I did feel properly ill. And it did get to me. I was very fatigued, my arm hurt, my bottom misbehaved, and my mood sunk.
But today, I feel pretty good. And I have done quite a lot in the last three weeks and been supported by so many wonderful people. It really is the support of family and friends that has got me through this. If you are one of those many people, thankyou and to my nearest and dearest, apologises for the first post-drip week.
Everyday, from drip-day +1, I have gone out for a walk. Initially, just a mile but we got this up to over 3 miles and a bit of proper countryside after a couple of weeks. Here on Exmoor, it’s the red deer rut, which can be quite spectacular, and we have done truncated versions of our normal deer walks. I have wrapped up as warmly as possible and tolerated the weird cold sensation in my toes, throat and nose. Using the focus on the telescope was a bit of a challenge! Two of my sisters came for a visit and we took them out to see some of our countryside and had an almost normal weekend. A brilliant tonic and a great distraction from this horrible illness and debilitating treatment. And my circle of cycling friends have met up for coffee, lunch and a short walk several times.
I have also made a point of getting up reasonably early every morning and shaving, showering, and getting out for that walk. This is nothing compared to my previous very active life but it would be very easy to wallow in an actual and metaphorical bed of self-pity.
Back to today, Wednesday 1st November 2023. Prior to each chemo round, there is a telephone consultation to check that I am good to go. The Oncology consultant rang, and we talked through how I had been for the last three weeks; the side effects and how we can mitigate them, or try and mitigate them, in round three.
The constipation. This is probably caused by the powerful anti-inflammatory steroids that accompany the drip. So, some mild laxatives to counter this.
The arm pain. Use the right arm tomorrow. The left arm may well recover over the next three weeks. But sometimes the veins suffer long-term damage, so I may just have to live with this.
The fatigue? This is probably cumulative and may well be more pronounced on the next two rounds. However, the Oncologist was quite impressed at how active I had been. A reflection on how fit I was at the start of the treatment. You may recall that I am only having this pre-surgery treatment because I am ‘young’ and fit?
So, round three starts tomorrow.
Or possibly not….
Prior to each round, my blood is tested to see if I am well enough to continue. And my neutrophil count is too low. These are important white blood cells that form part of our immune system. And too low means no chemo. The blood was taken yesterday, 48 hours before the chemo is scheduled to start. The plan? Tomorrow, I go into hospital an hour earlier than scheduled and my blood is tested again. Maybe, my bone marrow has used this 48 hours to get the numbers up to the safe level for round three? If not, the chemo gets delayed for a week. Fingers crossed for a good neutrophil reading.
Post-script – the neutrophil count was OK and round 3 started.
