Up Close and Personal

Its a long time since my last post because although this last week has been mostly fine, there were a good 10 post chemo days that weren’t fine at all. I don’t post when I am not okay because not being ok mainly means lying down trying not to move my head because that make me feel ill. There was a lot of sleep because sleep is a very good way to not feel ill. There were also some dark thoughts not helped by the afternoons being darker. I’ve not done a lot of why me’s since I was diagnosed, I always thought why not me, given cancer stats are up to about 1 in 2 (breast cancer is 1 in 7 or 8 depending on what your read). Last week there were lots of feelings about why me, it’s not fair, and how grim this treatment is. I felt like giving up, in the knowledge I wouldn’t, but being halfway through felt like there was a long slog ahead. I also felt like I just wanted to know if this was going to work for me. I haven’t felt despair, dread or fear very often since my diagnosis; the practicalities of managing treatment sidelines emotions, but the last post chemo period was utterly miserable.

There are all sorts of horrible things that people can get, cancer is just one of them. Like other things, I am sure everyone with cancer fears it coming back, because secondary cancers are not curable. Ever. The knowledge that chemo doesn’t work for everyone just makes me want to know whether it has worked for me and I won’t know that. There are a couple of reasons that my chances of secondary cancer make me more likely to be in that 30% group that it happens to, much as I would prefer not to be in that club. Secondary cancer can be treated, and basically that means it can be held at bay, or not. In reality it means chemo after chemo, a pause to see if it is ‘working’ and switching to different drugs until you run out of drugs. The treatment gives you time. The quality of that time is another matter and cancer is not a good death. 

This week is better, I am not veering from thoughts of death to optimism, but getting on with life. That does mean I have been doing some work, which I was very grateful to for taking me out of my head. I can’t ignore the side effects completely but they are tolerable. All of my organs are involved in being poisoned and my body felt that. My veins feel like someone poured acid down them (which they did) and the pain from that has made me sleep funny so now I have one of those annoying muscle tension type things down my left side. I am hoping it will be ok to drive, because this is the week of all the oncology appointments and blood tests before the next chemo. It only feels like I have had 5 minutes since the last one. One day I might be grateful for the treatment but right now it feels like this is grim, the approaching surgery is brutal (and I already have pain from the surgery I've just had) and the radiation is just icing on the case of burn upon burn.  

Next Friday is at least a different chemo drug, my nails are likely to fall out, my mouth will get ulcers, and my limbs will ache as if I have flu, but there may be no nausea. You can see how hopes become quite small, just no nausea please. I was broken last week, I walked around like a very old person, and needed a 3 hour rest after a bath. I'm not broken today which is why I can write this, I am grateful for a character that means I am not frightened that often. But like this blog says, there is nothing good about this cancer, and any cancer diagnosis means death gets up close and personal.