Cancer 59

I am currently having my second round of chemotherapy. Whereas last week there was several hours delay before the drugs arrived, this week I was wired up and pumping drugs bang on time. I am in the same room, and chose to sit in the same uncomfortable chair. I don’t know why, as there were several different types of chair to try and I know I should have sat somewhere different, but I have limited novelty seeking behaviour. I do feel a little dizzy today, so if the content is a little odd, then blame that, rather than any literary limitations on my part.

The place isn’t as busy as last time, three of the eight chairs are still empty at 1100. Most of the drugs have arrived, except those for one lady, who is very patiently waiting, as though she is happier here than at home. Perhaps the company is better here. She just sits there, not reading, not doing anything. She is 78 yers old. I am the second youngest here, or fourth oldest, depending on your point of view. Two of the three women have alopecia, the other man doesn’t. Unlike last time the staff seem to have some downtime as the modern word goes. There is the same irritating radio programme on. It is one of those commercial stations that has adverts. Bring on an increase in the licence fee so all radio stations can be advert-free. At least it has music I am familiar with, unlike Glastonbury (apart from Blondie).

I have been wondering about the side-effects of chemotherapy. I have been warned about all sorts of things, but have not as yet experienced too many problems. I do have a little ‘chemobrain’, defined as cognitive impairment, cognitive change, a sense of mental cloudiness, forgetfulness, and general problems with memory and concentration. The worst part for me is that I am having problems recalling words, often simple words. I would give examples, but I can’t think of any. While I have always had a poor memory for many things it appears my Broca’s area is malfunctioning. I don’t think I am particularly confused, but how would I know?

Another common problem is a loss of appetite, and in order to deal with this people on chemo are recommended to eat well, eat small meals, and have lots of ice cream and puddings. My main appetite problem is that I am eating more food. Most of it is reasonably healthy, but I am craving sweet foods. I don’t have to try and eat puddings to resolve my appetite problem, I have to try and eat fewer puddings. I had a broken chocolate biscuit with custard yesterday because there was custard available and no pudding. Delicious. It was an expensive biscuit.

I have several drugs that I take during and after treatment to deal with nausea and diarrhoea but I had no problems last time so presumably they work well. I didn’t have to use the extra drugs provided.

I do experience quite extreme tiredness. I was in bed for 7.30pm a couple of times last week. I suppose I am usually up for several hours during the night so it is not surprising. I was awake at 3am today and didn’t get back to bed. I do quite like being up in the early hours, especially when I have to change my stoma. I have said before that I miss the privacy of going to the toilet so this is a partial replacement – not the same though.

The final set of symptoms that are commonly experienced are anxiety, distress and depression. I keep getting emails from MacMillan and elsewhere about all the counselling, etc that is available but I don’t see the point, at least for myself. As you may be aware from these rather personal blogs I find writing about my thoughts and feelings the best way of dealing with this cancer thing. I also feel that people, if given some encouragement, are mentally tough, resilient, whatever you want to call it. We spend too much time telling people they are weak or vulnerable and must need psychological help. It is just a way for psychologists and others to justify their existence. I will save my views on the unnecessary length of DSM/ICD for another time.

Death happens to all of us. I have the advantage over many people in having a rough idea of what I am going to die of and that I am not likely to live to be so old that I get dementia, become physically frail, and utterly dependent on others. Oh, sorry, I forget, I already am!

I have written this blog to avoid sorting out the index on my book. I did the index last week, but the editors have come back with questions, such as whether Culture and Cultures should be separate entries, and clarifying which pages a certain entry relates to, assuming I can somehow work that out using the word indexing programme. I suppose I had better get to it.

There are seven people here now. I am having my final flush.