41. Finishing chemo 3 – bring on 2019!

Being off work means I’ve little or no sense of what day it is, unless I have to take the rubbish out, leave cash down for the cleaner, or avoid the queue for the Winkel (not that I go that often, of course…) *Reaches for healthy glass of water*

But I do know that today I have 4 big pink tablets and 2 little ones left in their blister packs, and once they’re gone I’m back into rebuild (which is probably a good job, as those blister packs are a liability with numb fingers!)

Anyway, how has chemo 3 been?

Well, I wasn’t ready…

I was so convinced they were going to delay cycle 3, that when they said go ahead, I was as shocked as Wallly the Wet Mouse, hopping obliviously into a mousetrap attached to a live pylon. Needless to say, I wasn’t prepared and that made a huge difference to my belief and resilience (and also my hair, which has started to fall out again, but I’ll save that for a different update 😉)

I’m not sure if it was complacency or impatience (who, moi?), or perhaps my desperation to just get this done and get back to normal (quite likely) or maybe I simply forgot that chemo gets tougher with each cycle (also possible). But this cycle certainly felt harder than the first two.

I didn’t feel more tired but I did feel tired more often. That could’ve been because I was weaker having already done two chemo cycles, or because I was in Yorkshire so less able to get out and about and exercise, or because my swelling got worse which is both debilitating and uncomfortable. I’m pretty sure it had nothing to do with copious amounts of chocolate, stollen, mulled wine or mum’s Christmas cake…

…but I survived

Just. Despite unintentional attempts to thwart my own recovery, I managed to get through the past 14 days, although I can’t honestly say unscathed or avoiding injury. After panicking over a tiny cut on my finger and picking a fight with my clothes horse, this time my head decided to take on the door of my spice cupboard.

Having lived here nearly three years, managing to avoid the head-height door, which never closes properly first time, but springs back open, narrowly missing your head, and thinking one of these days I’ll clonk my head on that… this time I clearly forgot to duck.

With a bit of a headache, I just gave it a rub and carried on as usual. It wasn’t until I showed it to Sarah, who said “Erm, it’s a bit red” and my Oncology nurse, who said “Hmm, it’s a good job you didn’t look at this when you did it ”  that I suddenly though Shit! Knowing my platelets were low, if I’d realized it was bleeding, I’d have gone into a right panic! Luckily it scabbed up while the clothes horse kept me distracted…

So bring on 2019

Anyway, I’ve somehow managed to make it to the end of 2018. Tomorrow I finish the last of my tablets and, with three cycles done, I’ll now have a CT scan to evaluate the impact chemo has had on Mutley, the lung tumour.

  • If he’s taken a beating, and the docs think my body can take it, we’ll crack on with a further three cycles of chemo.
  • But if Mutley’s still standing, or they think my body’s had enough, we’ll stop the chemo and crack straight on with surgery.

The scan is on Thursday (3rd Jan) and I’ll get the results on Monday (7th).

In the meantime, I’m raising a glass of the good stuff; celebrating the best of 2018, kicking Dastardly into touch, looking forward to finishing off Mutley, and getting Boxy back in business in 2019.

Big love people and Happy New Year!


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