No more treatment

5 minute read time.

There – I’ve said it.  There’s not much more to say, really, but I’d like to put down a bit of detail here as much for my own clarification as for anyone else who’s reading this.  For one thing, every cancer case is so individual.  There’s no one else who would have exactly my pathology, so in a way you could say that whatever I write here isn’t hugely helpful to others.  However, it is for me, so here goes.

We were initially seen yesterday by a very nice nurse clinician.  She has been working for my consultant for 20 years, yet we had never heard of her or seen her before.  It only occurred to us afterwards that she is probably specially trained in giving bad news.  She certainly did it very well, in a very caring and holistic way.  I could not fault either her knowledge, which was extensive, or her manner.  Dr Saunders did come in to talk to me, at my request, towards the end of the consultation, and my colorectal nurse was there too.

So – the scan results:  The conclusion is disease progression.  Well, we knew that would happen without treatment, and it’s eight months now since I had any chemotherapy.  What we didn’t know was the very complex detail. 

    • First the marker lesions:  the one in my neck is larger.  It has spread and flattened.  The one near my spine is smaller, probably as a result of the radiotherapy I had in September.  The one in my groin is larger. At least I think it’s in my groin – the report refers to it as an iliac mass.
    • This iliac mass has caused the hydronephrosis of the left kidney, ie it’s pressing on the kidney, restricting urine flow.
    • There is pleural thickening, ie possible spot on the left lung, but it’s equivocal at this stage.
    • There is new thickening of the sigmoid colon.  There appears to be a new mass there somewhere, but it’s hard to assess at this stage.  There is also thickening of the diaphragm.  I assume that all this thickening is disease.
    • There is a new left linguinal node, ie another enlarged lymph node.
    • I also appear to have had another DVT in the jugular vein.  Well, that’s a surprise, considering that I’m on clot-busting medication.
    • Good news:  no more infiltration of bone.

 

When asked what bothered me the most, I replied that it was the distended abdomen.  I still didn’t get much help about this.  Basically I suppose it’s inflammation caused by the hydronephrosis and apparently I also have constipation, though you’d hardly know it given my bowel habits!  In fact, at the end of the consultation the only clear message I came away with was to drink more water!  Since this was one of my New Year resolutions, that won’t be a problem.  I’m aiming for 2 litres per day.

 The nurse clinician listened very carefully to me on the subject of chemotherapy and came to the conclusion that I wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about it.  She explained that I probably couldn’t have Cisplatin anyway as it’s toxic to the kidneys, and my kidneys are already up the creek.  I was sent to produce a urine sample but was unable to!  However, the blood test, surprisingly, showed that my kidney function is actually OK.

 I very much wanted to hear Dr S’s opinion about whether I should have chemo or not.  I would be persuaded by him as his expertise is the reason I chose the Christie.  So when he came in to see me, I was extremely surprised to hear him say that chemo was unlikely to be of any benefit.  In fact he assessed it as having a 1 in 5 chance of halting disease progression.  He went further – in his opinion chemo might actually lessen my chances of staying alive longer but with serious side effects to boot.  So that settled it really.  Not only do I not want it, he doesn’t think it would help either.

 So, we were sent away to digest this information and get a load of painkillers from the pharmacy.  From now on, my ‘treatment’ will be pain relief and symptom control.  And that’s it.  We got the impression that the Christie is handing me over to local services such as my hospice nurse and the day hospice, which makes sense really.  I can talk to my specialist nurse at Christies at any time on the phone, or ask to see a doctor, but they are no longer going to monitor me with CT scans.  This we find rather disconcerting.  I want to know how the disease is progressing.  It was explained to us that CT scans are only of use if treatment is being given, as they can measure enlargement or regression of lesions.  I’ll find out from the hospice or my GP whether I might be able to have scans locally.  I want to know what’s going on.

Obviously this is a pretty emotional time, and I definitely don’t want to emote all over this blog.  I know it’s now being read now by close friends and family as well as by the wider Mac community.  I’ll get around to talking to all my nearest and dearest over the next few days, but first of all John and I have to process the information and its implications for how we lead our lives.  On the way home in the train all I could think was ‘now we’re free.  We can make plans, we can take holidays, we can have fun’.  I hope that’s how we spend the next months or years – however long I’ve got (and no one can tell me that).  I just want to lead a normal life but with extra treats thrown in.

Mindfulness and meditation, about which I've not written much lately (partly because I haven't been doing it every day), are going to be even more important to me from now on, so you may find me writing more about that, and about Tai Chi and the other things I do to keep myself sane and as healthy as possible.  The Buddhist group I go to is meeting this Sunday morning, so that's a good place to start.

Anonymous
  • Hello Jane,really can't say much more than the others have said,will be thinking of you and your husband and following your blogs.thankyou for the support when I joined a year ago.xxxxxx Carla x

  • FormerMember
    FormerMember

    I'm terribly touched that all you AC ladies (not forgetting Graham of course) should have visited my blog and taken the trouble to post. It means a lot to me. Thank you all. I'm doing OK and getting used to my 'new normal'. I wish you all the best too.

    Jane (aka dyad)

  • FormerMember
    FormerMember

    Thinking of you Jane, genuinely thinking of you, and your husband and wishing you all the best. From reading your blogs, the way you have conducted yourself has been very inspiring and helpful to me and no doubt countless others. i hope you continue to write and I wish you comfort and peace physically and mentally x Sarah 

  • FormerMember
    FormerMember

    Hi Lady Jane,

    As promised I've read all you recent blogs of the last couple of months and can't believe how much you have had to endure!

    I'm really sorry you are going through all this but you and john seem to be dealing with it in the best possible way. You two just need to stick together and try and enjoy the good days as best you possibly can

    Sending all my love to you and John

    Give me a call when you are ready xxxxx

  • FormerMember
    FormerMember

    Hi Jane. I have been off-line recently so have logged in for the first time in quite a while. I am so sad to read your post. It must be devastating to be told that further treatment will be of a palliative nature. Looking for the positives, you can now make plans on an ad hoc basis, holidays, short breaks and days out can be arranged without having to fit around hospital appointments and treatments. You have been and continue to be an inspiration for all of us, particularly those of us in the AC forum. I am now just one year post treatment. None of us know what the future holds for us and although we all tell ourselves that the treatment has 'cured us' we all have that tiny niggle in the back of our head. I can only say that if I get a recurrence I hope I can face it with the same brave and positive determination that you have. My love and support goes out to you. Enjoy the good days, rest on those that are not so good. I am sure you and John will have many special shared days ahead of you. Warm Hugs and love Angelfeather xx