Cancer 98

Well, here I am again, the day ward for cancer patients, receiving my chemotherapy. I have had virtually an 8 week break, and I was getting used to it. Now I am back to endless repeated questions about my name, date of birth, address, and allergies. I sit here in a chair that might be comfortable for someone much shorter than me for several hours at a time., surrounded by ill people and nurses. The view out of the single window is of the wall of the adjacent building. I have my PICC line in and my arm is already starting to itch. There are various lines attached to the PICC line, dripping poisonous chemotherapy drugs into my arm.

I am a little worried about the chemotherapy. I had 13 sessions between June and December last year. It seemed to work well, and my side effects were not too bad. Generally, tiredness was the worst problem. Unfortunately, any chemotherapy treatment can only work for so long, as I was reminded by a nurse yesterday – just because I come across as blase and confident does not mean every phrase or sentence just washes over me. I have not questioned anyone about the possibility of further treatment once this one fails. I don’t usually say it but sometimes it is better not to know, not because of avoidance but because there can be too many things to deal with at the same time. Under this stoic exterior, there is a neurotic worrier bubbling under, ready to cry and scream like a big girl’s blouse. Nevertheless, the stiff upper lip is the best solution, not only for myself but also for others, to keep things in order.

I get weighed when I get here. Unfortunately on most occasions, I am heavier than the last time. I am not the wasting away cancer patient of common parlance. Surely a cancer diet ought to be the most effective diet available? But not for me. I am going to have to embark on a serious diet, restricting all the nice foods and increasing consumption of you know what. Why is it that women seem naturally more able to eat healthily? I put it down to muscle mass. Men need more food, they need more protein, they even need more carbohydrates. Unfortunately, this should also be linked to more physical exercise, and more need for strength. Being an academic is not the best way to be an effective male of the species.

Having a ‘healthy’ diet does not fit with having cancer. Comfort foods keep the neurotic at bay. Custard builds stiffness in the upper lip. So, if I end up being a miserable moaner in these blogs (I know, I have already been there), then it is because my diet is successful and I am losing weight. Misery, here we come!