99. You WHAT???

Well, I managed to escape the expectation and demands of an exciting birthday. Spent the day proof-reading and knitting - and complaining online about non-delivery of flowers to my friend. No presents, though a couple of cheats gave me glorious flowers and the message in Dennis’s card (one of Beryl Cook’s more lewd paintings) had me very tearful. That’s the problems with this situation. Everyone is affected. So the poor sufferer has to fight the disease, undergo the treatments and feel responsible for everyone’s emotional wellbeing? One at a time would be hard enough.

              

This is the Monet collection. Gorgeous aren’t they!

 Less gorgeous but it made me laugh.

Cause for celebration - a whole row of stubby colourless eyelashes. Yippee. Yay Yay. Woohoo. Whatever they say. Hooray, hoorah, huzzah? Real proper eyelashes. Top and bottom eyelids. Less obvious on the left than the right eye - that will look great. AND definite signs of new pubic hair - invisible so I’m guessing everything will grown back white. I had a good head of white hair but this isn’t the silver white. It’s kind of colourless. Transparent? Anything will do. I can always mask it with highlights, mascara etc.

Yesterday was clinic day so my radiotherapy appointment followed from there. Come 2.35, still no sign of any oncologist, so I checked with Reception and no, no-one had gone in. Yes, it did look like she hadn’t arrived again. I ended up going off for radiotherapy (which had its own problems but they got me through fairly speedily) and then returning and still Dr D wasn’t ready for me. I went in armed with loads of questions but she, of course, was in a bit of a hurry, more concerned with getting me onto hormone therapy than anything else. I tried asking my questions and I did get some answers (no steroid or anti-nausea preparation before a zolendrate drip, she hadn't come across a reaction like mine before but she’d make a note of it and yes, take Lorazepam if it means you won’t do a runner - my words). I forgot to ask the key question: what proportion of her patients had developed jaw problems as a result of this treatment? I can see all the benefits of zolendrate and I know I couldn’t swallow a “large pill” in water (I use banana or soggy biscuits to get my pills down) but necrosis of the jaw??? No thank you. I’ll have to find someone to ask.

Now to the bit that explains my title today. She wrote a prescription for this anastrozole and told me of the side effects - hot flushes (great), sore joints, muscle pain...exactly what a pensioner wants added to her daily life. But it’s only for 10 years. I got the prescription filled at the hospital pharmacy today and the pharmacist asked if I’d taken it before. No? “Then I need to warn you that you may be sick in the first few days. A lot of ladies are.” I think I might have looked a bit stunned cos she added that it was “only 50:50. That means you’ve a 50% chance of not being sick.” I said you do realise you’re talking to someone with emetophobia? She looked blank. Fear of vomiting. “Oh.... Well let’s hope you’re lucky.” Aaaargh. I’d already told Dr D I’d be starting with a 1/4 tablet and building up from there (she said, happily do what you like - how refreshing) but now I have to consider taking cyclizine too. I’ve been feeling queasy the last two days - without the medication - so I can’t see me starting till radiotherapy is finished.

Getting mildly sore now but otherwise no noticeable change. I might be lucky but I’m not tempting providence. As we left today, suddenly the bell rang and virtually everybody started clapping. It was a man about my age and he looked so happy I filled up with tears. I couldn't get in the lift with him. Lisa would have spoken to him and I would have burst into tears. But it doesn’t change how I feel about me ringing the bell.

I had so much to say last night but was so tired, I didn’t bother. I wrote an apologetic letter to my childhood friend and bridesmaid Sheila, which ended up as almost 4 sides about everything from September to yesterday - poor woman has to plough through it. It was typed as I just can’t do handwriting with numb fingertips. Then I wrote a piece of flash fiction (300 words) to fit the title, 1968, after the summer of love... Everyone wrote about music and festivals and hippies so I wrote about My Lai, just to be contrary. Me, contrary?  I still didn’t sleep till 3! Now, my mind’s a blank. All I know is I wanted to write entry 100 on the day radiotherapy finishes - my own version of ringing that bell. That’s a whole week ahead. It’s not going to work if I want to say how great I’m feeling on Gabapentin (I am feeling chirpy, to say the least, and my face is filling out) or if I dare to start the anastrozole and want to celebrate the absence of sickness. Sad isn't it that I can only think in terms of bloody treatments, medicines and hospitals - my whole life since September!

LATE NEWS UPDATE: I just felt some fluffy growth in the bald patch of one of my eyebrows. I’m definitely re-emerging. Just a bit of a slow process.