237. Numbers dropping - a good sign?

 I’ve looked blankly at this for days, in a fug of chemo-induced exhaustion. Capecitabine side effects are sneaking through but overall I’d say that the second round was no worse than the first, despite Dr U’s warning. Maybe round three will enable the poison to show its true colours.

I’m armed - anti-sickness, anti-diarrhoea, anti-hand/foot syndrome treatments. That one goes by the grand name of palmer-plantar erythrodysesthesia and can be very problematic as it hurts. These are not my hands. I’ve only got small patches so far and a herbal remedy to massage in daily. It helped with the peripheral neuropathy so fingers crossed it helps with this. This is my foot though, a little concerning.

              

The only side effect that defeats me is the exhaustion. My neighbour, the lovely Lisa, took me to the hospital yesterday. She dropped me right outside Chancellors Wing so I didn’t have far to walk to the dreaded eye clinic, dreaded because it’s always heaving with patients. I needn’t have worried. The nurse on entrance duty reeled off all the covid symptoms I needed to say no to, then I just said “No, but I am on chemotherapy.” That was that. The clinic I loathed did a volte-face and I found myself bustled into an empty treatment room where the nurse said she’d do the basic checks and then find me somewhere quiet to wait. She also, as she checked my details, wished me an early happy birthday. I’ve never received such treatment from them before, they are just too busy. But she found me an empty treatment room where I actually had a comfy armchair!! It didn’t matter that they didn’t get me through as quickly as the nurse planned - they couldn’t locate me when the doctor called for me so he started a phone consultation with another patient!

Then it transpired that the appointment was, as I suspected, an administrative error as I’d been discharged by phone in April. However, I’m back on the books so he can keep an eye on my eyelid. Scarily, he informed me that the “soft masses” in my eyelid might well be cancer as they only did a biopsy in March. Dammit, why couldn’t they have cleared out anything suspicious? So, it’s up to the chemo to do its job and then they can do corrective surgery as my eyelid will always droop! How much longer can I go without my eye makeup? It’s dehumanising!!

Then over to Bexley wing but with an hour to kill so I suggested we just sat in Maggie’s. We were provided with hot drinks, asked if they could help in any way and then left to our own devices. Dennis finds the place completely relaxing so I thought it might suit Lisa. It did. Me, I just dashed to the enormous loo they have and gave in to the capecitabine runs. Humiliating?

Dr U was pleased with my eye and thinks the swelling is going down. Same with my neck lesion, which I can’t see but which I can feel is less swollen and softer. My hair line lesions and face unfortunately seem worse but he said that didn’t mean anything at this stage. Then he started talking about my blood markers. Oh joy! Ok, it was a bit scary seeing the data on screen - all I knew early on was that they’d risen from 29 to 68 so cancer was active “somewhere.” Then it went up to 128 just before I started treatment! My anxiety rocketed. But then it dropped to 112 after my first cycle of treatment. Heading in the right direction. I went off for my blood tests and Dr U rang me in the afternoon to say my markers were down to 86. Even better. I’m tempted to say that provides the motivation for round 3 but...

Then I slept most of the afternoon!

Not surprisingly, I woke early this morning and felt I had my energy back. It didn’t last long but it was a nice feeling. Even a conversation has proved exhausting recently. I shuffle rather than walk and I’m huddled over myself protectively. It’s not a pretty sight lol.

So, treatment apparently working(I’m learning to be cautious). Energy increasing as my blood cells revive, ready to get knocked down by the next lot of tablets delivered Monday afternoon. Before that though, I have to get through my 70th birthday. I’ve already received a load of goodies from Betty’s: 

including a splendid birthday cake (thank you, Trina) and I suspect the dreaded balloons are on their way (thank you, Trina). I wonder if Dennis will do anything special (like wrap the chain he’s giving me). Best never to expect, then anything turns out to be nice.

It strikes me that this diagnosis and treatment is sapping not just my energy but also my sense of humour. We did see a beautician waiting to be let into her shop, with the most amazing trout pout. Lisa and I decided we’d never use that beautician and I don’t need to - I get mine for free.