Cancer 136

All goes on as normal. My bloods are more or less the same as usual, with the cancer marker slightly elevated, but nothing to worry about apparently so I won’t worry. It has been between 3 and 4 for a long time, now it is between 4 and 5. my 24th treatment is authorised for next Tuesday, so I will go into the hospital, prepared as usual for a long day sitting in an uncomfortable chair with poisons pumping through me, ready to feel fine for the first couple of hours and then an increasing feeling of sickness, which will last throughout the day and night and will hopefully be reduced by Wednesday morning. I will have my bottle attached until Thursday and then be free again for the next six days, when hopefully I won’t have too many side effects other than tiredness and perhaps diarrhoea. The 24th treatment. I will then have an extra week off because of the bank holiday, then my 25th treatment, and then hopefully I will take a six week break so my body can recover a little and we can go on a proper holiday.

Life. This is it forever, or as long as the drugs keep the cancer at bay. The routine does drag when I think about it, and trying not to think about it obviously means I think about it. Along with the routine there is the stoma, which means carrying around – never forgetting – a stoma changing kit and finding somewhere to be able to make the changes. And there is the tube that comes out of my chest and has to be taped down so it doesn’t dangle too badly and get caught up where it shouldn’t.

I have a big bag of goodies when we go anywhere. There is not only the stoma kit (which is fairly complicated) but also the drugs for my heart, my permanent antibiotics, and the drugs for when things go wrong such as anti-diarrhoea tablets, anti-sickness tablets and painkillers. Not forgetting the cleaning materials, dressings, tape, and so on. It surprises me that I don’t forget things more often. I did forget my heart drugs and antibiotics when we were in Yorkshire for a couple of nights this week. It doesn’t seem to have adversely affected me, though I haven’t slept much since (2-3 hours a night).

It does get to be a drag at times. I have never been one for spending too much time dealing with my body, but now I have to. Sometimes, when I think this is forever I just want it over with. Fortunately, by over with I am more likely to mean a miraculous cure than suicide, as I remain generally optimistic (and entirely unrealistic!).