Hardly what used to be known as a "live outside broadcast" but what exactly is it called when you are making notes "as it happens"?
Took the four little tablets 12, 3, and 1 hours ago (4 each time), and now I'm sitting in Hamwic House at the General waiting to be shown to my chair for the treatment. Waiting, that word again! Wearing a mask adds to my hot flushes, but that's way better than the alternative of catching something nasty now that my defences are weaker. Suck it up and stop moaning1
Chair no. 7 then. It's my left hand's turn for the canula, which the clinician is working on now having warmed it up first in that mini-electric-blanket thingy. 11.55am canula in, thanks Ali, now my clinician is trying to get the drip machine working to administer the Docetaxol for the next hour. Done. I've have good stereo headphones on (cans), the IPod Nano running, so sitting listening to tunes from my library is no hardship at all. I even remembered to take the next meds from my daily schedule on time.
When the clinician made the customary call yesterday (checking all good in the hood for today's treatment) she said I'm down for a total 10 chemo sessions [not 7 like I'd been led to understand] which now will take me through into December. Dearly Beloved thought this great news, she's seen the difference in me since this treatment began and with the latest, dreaded PSA reading down to 14 from last month's 19, things are moving in the right direction again. Of course, I'm also conscious that Mick May, in his book 'Cancer & Pisces' recounted undergoing chemo programmes for more than five years, some of which were experimental trials, one or more even in pill form.
Right now it's 13.00, the poisoner has finished the chemo drip and there's a flush going through before they drip the Zoledronic Acid for 15 minutes. This is the stuff that combats brittle bones and the like. I had better message Mission Control a revised time to RDV, as she's picking me up.
I'm keeping the crossable appendages crossed that I don't feel as rubbish this time around in that slot 6 hours post drip to 30+ hours later. Hopefully, my body can start to handle the treatment better as it goes on. Final flush starting now, so I should be out in the fresh air before 13.45. End of live blog!
Er, no, not quite ... the meds that I take home after these sessions have not arrived in Hamwic House, and after the clinician rang they told her to send me to the hospital's Pharmacy to collect them. I walked around the huge edifice of the main block, through the main entrance, to queue for 15 minutes for my turn, followed by another 30 minutes for the little bag. They told me these weren't ordered until 13.40, so it was just as well that I reminded the nurse hooking me up to the Zoledronic drip that I was expecting to be given meds to take away. Ho hum.
