120. Losing the plot

It’s a fair assumption that, after surgery, chemotherapy and radiotherapy, I might begin to feel a bit better. That's fair isn’t it? Not asking too much? It seems it is. Asking too much, I mean, not the fair bit. It’s bloody UNFAIR.

I have felt awful, these last few days, progressively worse. Maybe it’s the gabapentin leaving my system and exposing me to everything it was helping me with (not just the pain apparently). Maybe it’s the effects of anastrozole - how ironic that gabapentin is sometimes used to mitigate the side effects and here’s me cutting it out and discovering I have got not-very-nice side effects after all. Maybe it’s suppressed anxiety about not getting great news at Friday’s appointment? So many maybes but these are the lessons learnt (my personal experience, not necessarily applicable to anyone else):

1. The effects of chemotherapy have a long long reach. Almost 4 months later and I still have several side effects, from peripheral neuropathy and neuropathic pain to someone else’s mouth STILL.

2. The effects of radiotherapy can emerge a long time after. ‘Immediate’ effects are within the first 6 months. Microwaving still going on, pain pretty awful but not debilitating. But let’s not forget the shadow on the lung, the damage to the heart that may increase the risk of future angina (just how does one find out? What is angina?? No, I’m not googling it) and the difficulties swallowing food. I acknowledge I had difficulty with fluids from October and that’s psychological. This isn't.

3. The removal of the hospital cocoon leaves you feeling mighty vulnerable. An oxymoron for you. Now who picks up the pieces?

4. Unanswered questions. My courage has waned and I don't yet have the resilience to face answers I may not like so I have decided not to ask my unasked questions at Friday’s appointment. I’ll have another chance in 3 months’ time. Maybe I’ll feel up to it then.

5. The strategy of dissociation has its immediate benefits but, long term, it’s a crap strategy. I marvel at the fact that I’ve had no real anxiety attack and no panic attack this year - incredible - but it doesn’t give me any greater confidence. The fear of the fear is still here. What’s more, without that cocoon and without something like breast cancer demanding my immediate attention, I feel it seeping back, finding the tiny cracks to worm its way back into daily life. But I’m out of practice and don't spot it coming.

6. The mantle of cancer can’t ever be shaken off. The knowledge that there’s such a thing as secondary cancer (is that the same as metastasis?), that it’s surprisingly common, has to be lived with. I guess I owe a mental apology to Dr T, my psych, the one who reassured me her mother-in-law has had it three times.

7. You get on a medication merry-go-round. Take this. Oh, you have this side effect? Take this. Try that. I’m taking tablets because I’m taking other tablets and, although right now, I’m down to only 3 essentials at night now (down from 13), all the extras to deal with the side effects add up. It’s hardly surprising I’m not bothering with pain relief - too many other tablets to swallow!

I feel so vulnerable. I wake feeling sick every morning now. Is that the anastrozole? Was the gabapentin holding it at bay? That increases my anxiety levels and that makes me feel depressed. It reduces my appetite - yes, I ate better during chemo! Side-effect of anastrozole = loss of appetite. Oh, and weight gain. They cover all bases, it seems. I’m snappy, tearful (without crying of course) and the noise from the building site reduces me to a level of self-pity I haven’t hit for a long time (apart from zombie-phases during chemo).

Do you think he’d cut the lawn for us?

As for losing the plot, I found myself writing a post on the breastcancercare forum in response to a sneaky advertisement. I knew it was the result of some bot and it’s up to the site to tighten their filters or monitoring but I still couldn’t stop myself having a brief rant at an insentient being with the power to infiltrate a forum for some of the most vulnerable women in the country, who really don’t want to read about erections and balls and penises.

Now I’m going for a long-overdue shower and hope I may pick up a bit of appetite on the way. 3 ginger nuts, 3 Tuc crackers and a slice of toast by 3pm is not great is it! But that’s how I react when I wake up at 7 feeling sick. Heigh ho.