'Only three rounds left? Ah, you'll be fine mate!'
That’s something I’ve heard a few times lately. I get it, it’s been a long period of time for everyone, and I think there’s definitely an element of cancer fatigue - not just for me but for everyone around me. I’ve said before, it’s all encompassing. And I guess we could consider me to be as close to ‘fine’ now as I have been for while.
But with that said, it’s all relative. 18 months ago I was about as ‘fine’ as I could be. New house, settled job, happy relationship, fit and healthy. Now ‘fine’ consists of only having two rounds of chemo to go, only having 26 days until I can hopefully get the 38cm line removed from my chest and not waking up every night in the two week cycle needing the toilet like I’m in my 70’s.
(Sometimes I get up three or four times a night and I simply do not understand how or why! It's not like I'm drinking a pint between each piss).
The reality is despite being in remission and, in effect, cured of my cancer, the dread before round 10 of chemotherapy this week was total, and worse than any round before. The prospect of it is debilitating. I'm tired, I'm sick of the taste of chemo and and endlessly frustrated by the PICC line. This week I had the fun of a reaction to the type of plaster I've worn for the last 20 weeks and some fruity blisters developing. The plaster is changed every week, I'm not a total minger, but this week it wasn't having it and was SORE.
I get through it. Because I have to get through it. But would I consider that to be 'fine'? Not really, no.
I’m still getting unbelievable support from the very vast majority of people, but the age old theory of some people just not knowing what to say or do still runs true on occasion. I don’t think the word ‘fine’ can be used in this context, though it has popped up a few times in the last week or two.
I don't doubt for a second that it comes from a good place, but I think I am the only person who can say it's 'fine'. Usually, I say it when I don’t want to talk about it and want to shut it down, or just don't want to bring the mood down. As I said earlier, it’s been a long time for everyone.
This will make you laugh though. Even my phone is getting in on the act. Because of my near non-existent eyebrows and the slightly doughier face due to the steroids, the face recognition has stopped working. It’s still me you shit, open up! I’m not in the business of typing my passcode in 2022! It is beyond annoying.
But enough of the relative doom and gloom (lets blame it on the 3am party steroids that continue to take the piss with my sleep). With my positive woolly hat back on, it is amazing to say I only have two treatments left! That is genuinely incredible. It is now 128 days since chemo #1 and 26 days until chemo #12.
LFG.
I showed my chemo nurse, a lovely lady called Kathy who I hadn’t met before, the pre/post-scans on Wednesday and she actually welled up. These people are surrounded by stories that aren’t always so positive, so when possible, I try to share my story with them to show that they are making a difference, that they are literally saving lives.
They’ve saved mine.
As I draw close to the end of my programme, I start to think of what comes next. Not the return to running or the Charity Event in September - but the ringing of the bell after my last treatment, the questions about my immune system recovering, how soon will my hair start growing properly? What about when will my facial hair stop being Scandinavian and return to being dark? What of my PET scan in May? That promises to be shit scary even though there’s no reasonable line of thought that suggests trouble should return at this stage.
Then it’s the return to the big, bad world. Which is a challenge I don't think I've really given enough thought to just yet.
How will I deal with that? Will this all hit me harder somewhere down the line? Who knows. One day at a time I guess.
In other news, the marketing storm that is about to land on you all for the Charity Night in September is looking A-MAZING thanks to my sister Sophie who is a creative genius. We have a super professional hype video...
... As well as a handy guide of how to get tickets for the night. The ball is officially rolling with ticket sales with 12x sold in the first week which is fantastic at this early stage - props to those super organised amongst you! As ever throughout this process, we're humbled at the amount of interest shown in attending - especially from people looking to bring friends and family who don't even know me. I've checked with the venue and we can fit ten to a table so please do shout up if you want to sit a larger group together.
So yeh, please excuse the slightly negative tone to the first half of this weeks blog - I always wanted this to be a vehicle for me to be honest even if it isn't as much fun to read as it could be.
There is so much positivity to take from the experience (none bigger than the fact that I will actually be ok!), never mind the number of quite frankly incredible things to look forward to from April and beyond, but it this has been and continues to be a struggle. The light at the end of the tunnel gets ever so slightly brighter each day, and I can't wait to say ONLY ONE LEFT! in twelve days time.
Thank you for your support and reading as always!
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