It’s been check-up time this week. I’m now 9 months post treatment and the team are very pleased with me. It is hoped there is still more recovery to come, but I am at the stage now where I think I’m happy if this is as good as it gets.
I have been continually frustrated at the slow speed of my recovery. The Oncologist says that she doesn’t think it helped at all that I had to have my feeding tube in for so long. She says that would have delayed the saliva glands recovering, and it didn’t help my energy levels to spend hours a day hooked up to the feeding pump. She said that perhaps I should only count my recovery from the removal of the feeding tube at Christmas. I like that idea, it makes me feel that I’m doing OK.
She has also reminded me that I have always had unrealistic expectations about my recovery time. Being a squeamish person I wanted to be left in blissful ignorance about my neck dissection and chemotherapy. She says I therefore have never properly understood how serious my operation was and how brutal chemotherapy can be on the body. Apparently I have to learn to be kind to myself and realise that my body and mind have been through a traumatic experience. I’m sure she is right and I will try to do as she says.
They said they don’t want to see me now until the end of July for my next check-up. Before that I have to go for a routine blood test as they need to check my thyroid was not damaged during radiotherapy.
Unfortunately I need to end this post on a sad note. Last weekend I was saddened to hear of the death of the tennis player Elena Baltacha. This was then followed by the news this week of the passing of a wonderful young man who I met at the hospital last year. He gave me, and so many others, such terrific emotional support despite his own troubles. We became good friends and I will miss him very much. Two young people gone far too soon, I feel a mixture of anger and sadness. There are times when I hate cancer so much that I could punch something.
