Post 49: The Registrar calls.
BP: All over the place
Flushes: Annoying as ever
Anything else: The TV still works 
We all need a dangling carrot to help sustain our mood and drive.
With the thoughts of two cancelled holidays to Italy and Ireland as good as in the past, it’s really only the future that can lift my spirits. But at the moment, the only thing on the horizon is this elastic tether to the local hospital that’s doing its best to keep me ticking over (medically).
That’s not exactly the kind of future I had in mind.
Where is my mojo?
Outside of the time I get to spend with My Darling—which is always valuable—life feels prone to negativity right now. I do like a walk, but beyond the fitness, it’s really about the people. Friends. Family. Company.
Alone, is a lonely route.
So what else is there to look forward to?
Our 35th wedding anniversary and my birthday—on the same day—are nearly here. But thanks to medical constraints, the celebrations are going to be muted. No, not muted—ruined. No big family get-together in Eire and no cheeky getaway from the hospital tether.
I wouldn’t say I’m entirely blue… just disappointed by where things stand.
Later today, I’m expecting a call from my cancer care nurse, and there’s plenty to talk about. Since she last clocked off on Thursday, I’ve visited both A&E and the GP, so there’s a bit of catching up to do.
I’m still torn over whether to ask for a new oncologist.
It’s not her fault my heart has started to fall apart and distract from the cancer treatment plan… or is it?
I can’t help wondering:
• Should there have been more foresight?
• Why wasn’t there a basic review of my family heart history before chemo started?
• Why was there no gap between stopping Olaparib and starting this new chemo?
• Why was I asked to continue chemo after the pulmonary embolisms in cycle one?
• Why were we left with an unprepared registrar last week for such an important appointment?
(Although, really—aren’t all appointments important?)
Am I retrofitting the facts to fit the crime?
Is it fair of me to feel this way?
Meanwhile, the hot flushes rage on, my AFib is newly deranged, the cancer is unchecked, my heart is trying its best, and my mind is wobbling. I need a good walk to clear the fog and remember what life is meant to look like.
Where are the grandkids? The trips? The parties? The fun?
Being on a chemo plan is what I need. It may happen later this week—if all goes well. But even that comes with restrictions and undertones. I think… I’ve lost sight of the goal.
⸻
What a turnaround.
I’ve just had my first call from cardiology—and what a gift. The registrar did both me and oncology a massive favour.
Big news: My heart is good to go for chemo.
Yes, there are concerns—a leaky mitral valve and dilated atria—but on their own, and without symptoms, there’s no immediate cause for worry.
That said, if I develop any of the symptoms he listed—
1. Breathlessness
2. Not being able to lie or sleep flat
3. Waking up gasping for air—
—then it’s a different story.
I asked about exercise and “Nothing’s off the menu.”
I also mentioned the blood test for my normal clotting risk (which might mean I’d need injected clot-busters during chemo instead of the standard oral blood thinners). He said that’s a question for haematology, and oncology would need to decide if it’s necessary.
What a difference between this registrar and the one last week.
One left me confused and discouraged.
This one? Clear, calm, confident—and hugely reassuring, even while talking about the serious stuff.
What a difference good communication makes. I feel so much more at ease with my body now.
Hurrah!
⸻
Nee-naw, nee-naw.
At 10pm, My Darling had to drive me back down to A&E again.
This time, the “pill in the pocket” didn’t stop the palpitations.
So the blog is paused right there.
A few hours in, and the meds weren’t working. The doctor decided it was time for my first cardioversion. Ouch!
Cue the flying carpet.
With ten doctors, nurses and HCAs watching, I buzzed off for a few moments and came back to find two of My Darlings softly asking if I was okay.
I was thankfully.
Sinus rhythm restored.
Three more hours under Nurse Kevin’s eagle eye, and we were finally discharged at 6am.
I’m well. I’m home. And happy for both.
Now, My Darling and I are off for a very belated sleep.
Two days till chemo restarts; if I behave myself.
Five days till my birthday and 35th wedding anniversary.
Goodnight from us both. xx
