Thursday 10 January 2019

21. Little niggles

You may have got the impression that I am prone to thinking the worst, ruminating on the worst possibilities and restricting my life to avoid these where possible. Mainly correct - if it’s associated with any part of my body linked to my digestive system, that’s my life. But it doesn’t seem to work that way at the moment.

I’ve found it odd how successfully I’ve managed to exist in the Land of Denial. After all, there are little (?) things that niggle at the back of my mind. I push them away to be dealt with another time. This is how I am progressing through treatment.

Today, I had two trips to St James’s, with two new routes. Pauline took me at lunchtime to Nuclear Medicine to have my radioactive tracer injected. I was uncharacteristically calm. I could have managed on my own but there was always the possibility I might just panic and need to take a diazepam so I opted to ask someone to take me. Again, I was surprised at how adaptable the staff were. The radiographer T was very reassuring and, when I mentioned I could be claustrophobic, took me to see the equipment and talked me through the process. As he said, there was no point in giving me the injection if I couldn’t face the treatment and he’d discovered for himself only recently what claustrophobia was like.



It’s a strange feeling, knowing you’re toxic for 24 hours!

Marilyn and Clive took me for the scan. It was absolutely fine because T had explained it all to me. He did nothing to exacerbate any anxiety like strapping my arms down (one advantage of being skinny is that I actually fitted the ‘bed’ easily) and even stayed with me when my head was being scanned in case I got anxious. How kind is that! Actually it was a bit frustrating because I was trying to meditate and he kept interrupting. The scan took exactly 18 minutes and I get the results in a week. Once we got home, a lovely period of complete normality with not a single mention of cancer and only the slightest reference to it by accident. Tea and crumpets and a chat :)

Niggle: I have explained the need for a bone scan as providing a baseline to determine what dosage of zolendronate I shall need. But that’s my assumption. What if the bone scan picks up some cancer cells in my bones already? See? The seeds of a huge source of anxiety and worry are there. I’m just not giving them what they need to grow. So do I want the results? Do I ask for them or wait for them to mention them at the next clinic 3 weeks away?

Niggle: I can’t think of much that could make compelling reading about constipation. Suffice to say, the problem resolved itself painfully and now I have the reverse problem. The problem for me is whether I should use my usual IBS medications. Which is better for my body: no movement or too much? Normal people would just get on with a healthy diet, high in fibre. Me, I’m struggling to get the calories on pap, which is about all I can tolerate at the moment.

Niggle: the booklets say mouth soreness will improve when treatment stops. I know EC interferes with the immune system and healing is slower. Am I condemned to months of ulcers, sore palate, raw gums (I bought the dinkiest baby’s toothbrush today) and so much pain I can only comfortably eat stuff like porridge, chicken soup, dunked Rich Tea biscuits and tasteless banana? AND my miracle toothpaste contains methylparabens. I know parabens are banished as they replicate oestrogen or something like that. Dammit!!!

Niggle: I forgot the advice to buy a hair net. I’m shedding white hair everywhere now. BC baldness approaches...fast.


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