Cancer 212
Posted on November 2, 2025 1 Comment
It appears that things are changing, and not for the better. I had a scan last week, but I won’t get the results for a while because I am still on my treatment break. I assume I will get them in a couple of weeks when I see the consultant. I am expecting growths in my abdomen. It feels strange, bits stick out where they shouldn’t, other bits feel hard when they shouldn’t. It is all a bit painful, especially if any strain is put on it. I can hardly lift anything now without significant discomfort.
I am getting more tired, but worse, I am finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. When I go from standing to lying, or when I do any exercise (and yes, walking from the car to the house is exercise, and the stairs are increasingly high mountains), I am out of breath and struggling to breathe. I initially thought I had pneumonia or something else relating to liquid on the lungs, but increasingly I suspect it is the abdominal growths putting pressure against the diaphragm. As it gets worse, it gets more frightening; I don’t want to die from being unable to breathe. It is so bad that I am going to phone the hospital emergency number tomorrow and get them to examine me. I have always been told to ring them if there is any problem. I have not been good at doing so because I don’t want to get stuck in hospital. Now I am thinking that I would rather get stuck in hospital than be unable to breathe. I am even taking some pain medication. I still need reminding to take it as I do not like painkillers – pain is for a purpose – but increasingly I am thinking it might be better to reduce the pain.
The difficulties mean that I cannot eat properly. I can only manage small portions, and sometimes nothing at all. This is not me. As anyone who knows me is aware, I eat – lots. Last night I did manage a pie (but not all the pastry) and a little mashed potato, but I suffered for it. Earlier I had eaten a small piece of quiche (quiche?? I know, sorry), again without eating all the pastry, and for breakfast a bowl of cereal. That was my lot for the day. I am losing weight, though there is a long way to go before I can safely say I am not overweight. If the eating problem would stop at that point, then I would have experienced an effective diet – though not one I would recommend (“Try the cancer diet. You are guaranteed to lose weight – all of it.”), but I assume it will not stop at that point and I will soon be as thin as I was as a teenager, and so on.
Food is yet another matter in my decline and fall. I have already lost things that were important to me, such as walking up large hills and drinking alcohol (not at the same time, though the latter would often follow the former). Food has remained important, and even though I have a stoma and I am being treated for cancer, I have managed to eat most things, and good quantities of these things. It looks like this remaining pleasure is disappearing. The other night we went out with friends and I managed only a single course, and even that was too much. It is only weeks since I was eating proper three course meals.
On the positive side I am doing my MA degree, and that is going well. I do now suspect I am not going to get to the end in the normal way, so I need to draft the thesis using the information I have, and add further material for as long as I can. I can still drive, though the other day we went to Lincoln for course meetings and when we got back I collapsed into my chair and went to sleep. I had only driven 100 miles and attended two one hour meetings.
Still, what will be will be. We are still seeing life positively. Every day that I have some health is a good day. I am not yet confined to my chair or to a bed. I might be contemplating suicide, I have been since the diagnosis, but I am not ready yet. I still have hope that I will go to more places, finish the degree, get back to eating properly, and live some more of a relatively normal life. Watch this space.
Cancer 211
Posted on October 16, 2025 Leave a Comment
It has been a while. It is still a time of rollercoasting. My abdomen is distended, presumably both by hernias and tumours. It feels like a bag of marbles. The tumour by my stoma is immesely painful if touched. I generally cry out like a big soft [fill in own word here] if anyone or anything catches it. It is like having gout on your stomach.
I have been afraid to travel because I feel somewhat delicate. I worry that I am going to fall apart at a moment’s notice. It is worse than it was, and I have definitey gone downhill over the last months. I suppose it is to be expeted but the eternal optimist in me expects to carry on forever, or at least until I am a decent old age pensioner.
Having said I am worried about travel, we are currenty in the Netherlands. We chose a place by a national park in a village with reasonable facilities. We arrive a couple of days ago after three days of travel, 1st day to Harwich, 2nd across the North sea and into the Netherands, 3rd to the house in the eastern part of the country. I was worn out when we arrived. I just don’t have the stamina any more, though it is only 300 miles of driving from home. We spent yesterday at the house, unmoving – but I did read Ken Follett’s new novel about the construction of Stonehenge. Perfect simplicity, good storytelling.
I don’t do visits to war sites any more, but the village we are staying in was the site of the last battle of WWII in the Netherlands, the army practices in the nearby woods (lots of machine gun fire yesterday), and we are just a few miles from Arnhem. Well, I can’t help it if one of the best museums I have ever been to is about 5 miles away. I am sure the wife will love it when I take her there tomorrow. It was the HQ of General Urquart during Operation Market Garden (and so on).
Today we are at the Kroller-Muller museum, one of the best art museums in the Netherlands, and we had no idea it was here until we had booked the house. The buildings are modern and magnificent. They remind me of where I worked in Helsinki and make me a little homesick – can you be homesick for a place that isn’t your home? I did visit from 1997 and then worked there for 15 years or so.
I must admit I am worried about the cancer. We walked around this museum, and through the park to a restaurant, and I can’t walk any further. I am just sitting in the cafe drinking warm Fanta and writing this. I now need to get on with writing about Alethea Howard. My MA thesis won’t write itself.
Cancer 210
Posted on October 4, 2025 Leave a Comment
I’m sorry about the song illusion, but life really is a roller coaster, and with cancer you just have to ride it, ride it. Eight days ago I was accepted on the History MA at Lincoln and felt good. Within two days I was feeling extremely ill and worrying – again – that I was dying – by the middle of the week I picked up again, then by Thursday I was sinking. Yesterday we drove to the Lake District and it was a bit of a struggle to eat – though last night in the restaurant I did have one of the best lamb dishes ever. You didn’t need teeth to eat the lovely piece of rump, and it came with a little shepherd’s pie….
Today I am tired. I did manage a reasonable sleep last night, though I spent a couple of hours in the bathroom reading James Bond (Live and Let Die). It is raining, and predicted to rain all day, so I am not moving from the conservatory of the hotel overlooking Lake Windermere.
We came down to breakfast at 0730 because that is when it starts. We were the first there. Others dribbled in as we ate, but apparently the peak time for breakfast is 0900. That is not breakfast, it is brunch. If I ran a hotel and guests weren’t down for breakfast before 0800 at the latest they would go hungry.
We are here for three nights, the first of our (hopefully four) holidays during the 6 week chemo break I have just started. I think my tiredness is in part psychological realising that I am free of poison for a while. I am relaxing (?), getting away from it, hopefully allowing a little bit of recovery (on the negative side it enables the monstrous tumours to become more monstrous). We return home on Monday, and then off to the Netherlands the following weekend. All assuming I am fit enough of course. Fit enough? Of course I will be – even if I am not. You have to crack on, don’t you? Even when riding that roller coaster.
Cancer 208
Posted on September 17, 2025 Leave a Comment
So, I spent the night throwing up again the day after my chemo stopped. that is two successive treatments. The question is whether I am starting to respond negatively to the chemo. It looks that way, except I did eat rich food two days running and had the worst (longest) journey to Devon on the Friday – most of the way without a break due to traffic. Next time I will keep to the simple foods and see whether I have a similar response.
The other problem I have is constant pain from my stoma and the friendly ulcerated tumour sitting next to it, still changing shape presumably due to that awful radiotherapy. While I try and bodge the stoma bag so the ooze from my stoma does not smear all over the open sore, it generally doesn’t work, so I walk around stooped like an old man in fear of something or someone barging into me and causing utter agony. I sometimes walk with a stick as a form of self-defence. It does stop me going to crowded places, such as cities, or a bus. What a shame!
I am a little averse to taking more painkillers. First, I don’t like painkillers, never have. Pain is for putting up with as it has a purpose, though that sounds like I am some religious zealot wrapping barbed wire round my thigh and pulling it tight. Yes, I watch that kind of film. Second, I hear rumours that the rules regarding drugs and driving may become more strict. I am already regularly taking morphine and that is one of the drugs that may – rightly – restrict driving. At the moment I would rather have pain than be banned from driving. I won’t say driving is my only pleasure, but it is an important one. Perhaps soon I will be driving around screaming in agony, crashing every 5 minutes because I won’t take the morphine. Hmm, have to think about that.
I am still hoping to get a treatment break, perhaps after the next round of chemo. We were planning Bavaria, but I am getting a little nervous about being away from my beloved NHS so we might end up in The Netherlands (ie close to the ferry home) or perhaps stay in the UK and go to Scotland. There is plenty to see in the UK, and we do have one of the best cuisines in the world.
There I go, start with puking and finish on eating. I just don’t learn.
Cancer 207
Posted on September 9, 2025 Leave a Comment
I have nothing to say, but I am sitting in hospital undergoing chemotherapy getting bored, so I thought I could bore you in turn. This is my 42nd round of chemo. According to Douglas Adams this is the answer to life, the universe and everything, so perhaps I will go home today cured of this vile disease. Or then again, The Hitchhiker’s Guide was fiction….
I brought foie gras sandwiches to the hospital today, and very nice they were too. I had them along with cheese sandwiches, chicken soup, tinned mandarins, a chocolate flapjack, raspberry yoghurt, orange juice and lots of tea. Get the food in before I start feeling ill, though I feel ill now and I still have two drugs to go, along with the bottle to be attached.
Break – I am now on the last set of drugs and starting to feel a little queasy in the head. This is normal. It is the start of the rest of the day. These last drugs are being pumped in more rapidly than normal. Apparently there is a change in policy which means those of us who do not have negative reactions can be dealt with more quickly. I am asked if I am OK. I mustn’t show any negative reactions or the drug will go back to a longer input.
I have done a little work towards the projected MA, reading about women 1500-1700. It wasn’t particularly informative, though I might see whether English Heritage have any archival information about Margaret Cavendish. Yesterday we went to Chatsworth. I really want to spend time in the library there. I wonder if they have anything on Alethia Howard? After all, Bess of Hardwick was her grandmother.
This queasiness is nothing to do with the foie gras sandwiches, is it?
Dr Nigel Hunt 