Cancer 67

Some people have suggested that some of my blogs are a little explicit about what is going on with my cancer but I have always splurged when it comes to discussing thoughts and feelings. I may be a little open at times but I hope that helps people understand my experiences as a cancer patient. The stoma is a good example. The other day I had an ‘accident’. I was in Norfolk and had just sat down after ordering fish and chips (I am very careful with my diet, ensuring that my weight increases every time I attend for chemo) ewhen I sensed a smell. I checked and found that I had a leaking stoma. My first thought was that if my food was delivered while sorting this out then it would go cold. My second thought was that I need to sort this out urgently. Being a little more laid back than I was when I first got the stoma I had left my bits in the car. I had to go to the car, then to the toilet.

The problem arose because I was wearing my truss, which compresses my abdomen, but also compresses my stoma bag, and unless I constantly check how full it is I have no idea. Normally I surreptiously feel the bag to see how it is getting on. Yes, basically I fondle my own shit in a bag.

The truss had shit on it, and so did the inside of my shirt. I washed them out as well as I could, cleaned up and changed the stoma bag. I headed back to the cafe, got my meal from the counter where it had been kept warm, and ate it. It wasn’t the same though. I did not enjoy it as much as I should.

It is very unusual for the adhesion to fail. It has only happened three times since March. Given the pressure of the truss (shall we call it Liz?) and the strength of the adhesion, it just shows the power of the gut. I always thought the key action of moving food through the gut was peristalsis, but that is the action through the small intestine. Once it reaches the large intestine the contractions are called mass action contractions, and clearly there is no stopping them! They are supposed to happen between once and three times a day, often triggered by meals. I must remember to cut the number of times I eat, perhaps three times a day is sufficient. That might help with the ever-increasing number of kilograms indicated on the weighing machine here at the hospital every fortnight.

I still feel reasonably healthy. My side effects consist of a little diarrhoea, along with the wife suggesting I am a little more stylish and a little tidier than I was. People keep saying that I look healthier than I did when I was well, which I am not sure whether it is a compliment or an indication that I have spent most of my life looking pretty rough.

I know this thing is going to kill me, and I know I could drop any time from healthy to dead, but at the moment I am quite optimistic that I am going to last a good long time. I have ambitions. My NHS car is due in November, my book is out in January, and I don’t get my state pension for nearly seven years. I want them all.

My symptoms at the moment? The biggest one is tiredness. This seems to build up to a peak a few days after chemo is completed, but never really goes away. No doubt it is related to me getting up for several hours in the middle of the night. Never mind. It is manageable. My PICC line is a bit irritating. I keep wanting to scratch around it, and I am always fearful I am going to knock it and cause damage. It does mean I don’t want to go anywhere busy where people might knock into me such as a city – but then I never wanted to go to cities. Ghastly places. Also, I must take more care over eating (see above), but I have developed a sweet tooth. I also get aches and pains across my abdomen, which I suppose is where the psychological element comes in. I assume it is tumours growing and bashing around inside me, but of course it is probably the changes relating to the chemo. One significant change is the failure of memory. I forget words. I forget what I have read and seen. I forget people. But then, I always have done these things. It is just worse than it was, and it probably explains me being repetitive in my blogs.

What I don’t have, apart from memory changes, are any significant psychological problems. Look on, for instance, the MacMillan website and cancer appears to be all about psychological problems. My problems are body-related. I have cancer. I don’t need psychological problems as well. I will come back to this in a later blog.

Let’s face it. Apart from being stuck with chemo for three days every fortnight, three days that I wipe out in terms of achieving anything, I am doing pretty well. I am stronger and fitter. I can do a bit of gardening, go for short walks, drive for miles, and I am back to winding up the people around me. I intend to continue in this vein for some time.