266. Zippidy Do Da….

Today will mark to beginning of a WHOLE WEEK OFF. I’d have danced if I’d had the energy.

We went for the usual consultation and I asked Dennis to come in with me as he now can hear what’s being said and I wanted him to feel included and informed! I started with a tale of woe as I felt shit, mentioned my cough, then of course started coughing and wheezing. 

So I ended up having a full medical examination. Did I mind taking my top off? No problem and I started to whip jumper and t-shirt off in one quick movement. Dr U quickly turned his back. Did I want a chaperone (eyes averted from my naked top half)? I’m 71 for god’s sake - and my husband is 6 feet away! So I clambered up on the bed (I do nothing elegantly nowadays), flopped back and lay there. Turned out I was lying on the ‘modesty sheet’ he’d set out for me. Lots of wriggling about with zero modesty and then I was ‘decent’, naked top half covered with a square of paper that was immediately removed so he could examine my chest! I’m assuming the paper is his protection from accusations of improper conduct.

I got a full examination, including checking my healthy boob, axillas, mastectomy scar, skin mets etc. I reckon the modesty sheet was only used when he wasn’t looking at me anyway. And what’s to see? A jagged scar across half my chest and round to my shoulder, plus one boob mostly under my arm… you’d have to be pretty unusual to find any of that arousing! Plus I still have a good reflex punch in me so I felt safe.

I do have a few new lumps in my skin but the face met, the one that was cutaneous and therefore did worry me, seems to be healing. (Quick check: no, back to normal - it must have just taken a few days’ rest). Otherwise all felt healthy, including my liver and, most importantly right now, my lungs. I confess the thought that my cough might be a symptom of metastasis to the lungs kept crossing my mind so, unless the CT scan shows otherwise, everything is fine for now.

Dr U first suggested a short course of penicillin for what he suggests is a viral infection. Then Dennis asked about my exhaustion which definitely has been worse this cycle - was it going to improve again? At that, Dr U changed the treatment from antibiotics to a week off chemo so my body can fight the virus. JOY! A week off chemo feels like Christmas has come early, a truly welcomed gift. So, tonight I start my week off. My meds are being delivered this afternoon but they will sit unopened for a whole week.

He then explained what he doesn't understand. He said there are two types of Triple Negative breast cancer, The first is unstoppable and just runs its course. The other is very aggressive but responds to treatment, generally for a few months and then the patient moves on to the next treatment. Then, he said, there’s my cancer. It doesn’t fit any pattern and there is no other case in the whole hospital. No one has come across it before.

He said it’s like my body works with the chemo and holds it back. Then my body gives up for a bit and the cancer begins to spread and then my body picks up again and fights back. So it’s containing the cancer against all the odds and all the scientific data. That’s why I’m monitored so closely and why, when Dr U isn’t available, I’m seen by the top nobs - everyone wants to see me! So I’m renowned, just as my mum was - not for any reason worth celebrating but because we are scientifically intriguing.

Hopefully my cough will improve over the next few days and my energy level improve so I can fit in maybe one trip to the gym, or even a swim. Anything to break the monotony of my ‘routine’ which is based on the principle that I have no routine.

We’d waited 84 minutes to see Dr U, then I had to queue to have my bloods done, so we didn't get home till almost 2pm. I could have gone to support group easily! Lisa was picking me up at 2.20 to go to the LGI for my scan so it was all a bit rushed. And the CT department was heaving!! Usually there are just a couple of others waiting so it’s not long before you get called. Friday was horrible - nowhere to sit and, for the first time, bloody-minded patients refusing to move on (one behoodied and baseball-capped couple did when the receptionist said she was going to ring security). I sat somewhere else once I’d been cannulated so I only heard the second fracas but some women screamed “I’m beginning to get mad now” and she did. The poor receptionist. Security had to remove the woman but receptionists really don’t deserve this. It’s not their fault if a patient arrives 2 hours late for their scan and she has to tell them she can’t fit them in. 

So, I am following doctor’s orders of bed rest (apart from when I spilt a whole mug of tea over the duvet), paracetamol when my temperature rises and, hopefully, no heartburn today. It’s been horrible the last few days and supports my belief that my ‘virus’ is in fact an inflamed oesophagus. But what do I know??