267. Looking good

Not me, but the progression of this disease!

First, apologies if you’ve dropped by and found nothing. I’ve had a fairly bleak month but then I’ve never been great come Autumn. I try to see the glory of those falling leaves and all I think (oh, I have more in common with my husband than I thought) is it’s all dying! It reminds me of a poem we studied in the first form, by Thomas Hood:

No sun — no moon! 

No morn — no noon — 
No dawn — no dusk — no proper time of day.
 
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease, 
No comfortable feel in any member — 
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, 
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds! — 
November!

At the time, I thought what a miserable old git! But it’s always stuck with me. Only 2 poems ever have (apart from the WWI poetry) and the other is the sumptuous Ode to Autumn so maybe that’s telling me something - everything has two sides at least. 

Anyway, four weeks since my last consultation, thanks to that wonderful week off that felt like a holiday. We saw Dr U on Friday (only a 50 minute wait this time and I still missed Support Group). My CT scan shows I’m healthy from thorax to pelvis and my blood markers have dropped from 28 to 24 so they are heading back to 18, my baseline. There was no tumour marker owing to some kind of Phlebotomy error. It’s pretty obvious there’s a struggle going on but Cape and I are doing well against the cancer. My tumour is definitely trying to grow - it’s visible and also I can now feel its presence near my sinus. Up till now, I’ve only experienced an occasional twinge but now it’s a constant pressure. 

So, I continue with capecitabine. I confess I really expected to be told it was time to move on to the baldy treatments but Dr U believes cape and I are still winning the battle. I’ve always hated this battle analogy that is the public image of cancer but sometimes it IS unavoidable. There is a battle going on. I watched the remake of All Quiet on the Western Front yesterday and it just showed the futility of war (maybe, in this case, because I knew the outcome). The parallel with cancer is right (ouch, that hurts to admit). It’s a battle. And in my case, we know which side is going to win. But there’s no harm in making it a lot harder for the cancer to come out on top!! 

Unfortunately, my cough is no better. Dr U believes it’s a virus I can’t shake off. The week off chemo did no good, the antibiotics made no difference - so now, clutching at straws, I’m testing the gastro-intestinal approach. I’ve been taking my cape tablets with an extra creamy Activia (what an impact on my gut - only one bout of cramps and diarrhoea) and Dr U is happy for me to continue. Apparently though, it’s a source of contention. Some oncologists believe it interferes with chemo and some believe it can cause infection (I got lost at this point so don’t ask how) but he believes there is insufficient evidence so he’s fine with me continuing with the Activia. He’s moved me onto Omeprazole but that will take time to work, if it works at all. So I also brought home a litre (yes, a whole litre) of Gaviscon Advance. I already have problems swallowing but this takes the biscuit. It is VILE. I managed 2 doses yesterday but my instinct is to swill out my mouth to get rid of the viscous taste, which would obviate the whole point of the exercise. I usually like aniseed and I persuade myself this is not much different from neat Pernod but… it’s proving a challenge.

Then bloods. The queue when we arrived was LONG. By the time I had to queue, it was way better but it was 12.45 and lunchtime loomed. It took over an hour to deal with just 11 patients ahead of me. Then I turned to D and said “I won’t be a minute’. Famous last words. Three attempts to find blood in my inner arm failed abysmally. Not a spot came out and it hurt like hell as she fished around. So she decided to try my hand. Straight in, no pain and lots of blood. But she didn't use the obvious vein they use to cannulate me. She went into a vein between two knuckles. Like I said, painless and effective. Then as I walked away, PAIN. Plus a mother of a bruise that’s very decorative on the back of my hand. Over 10 minutes to fill two small vials!!

So I’m really pleased. I expected D to be but no such luck. His attitude is that the good news is only for this time. Maybe next time will be bad news. He definitely experiences the scanxiety I seem to have avoided so far.  I TRY to get him to see that it’s not helping me but he accuses me of using emotional blackmail - it isn’t, it’s simple fact - and the case is closed. However, right now he is preparing our Sunday roast so I’m not complaining (well, only a bit lol). 

Meantime, the house is falling apart. A computerised component of the boiler has broken (no heating one day and it was impossible to find anyone to come out - till I rang the number of the bloke who did the service 10 days earlier. Bless home, he came in his own time, on the way back from work and he’s overridden the system so we have to deal with the boiler manually for now. It’s either freezing cold or belting out heat. Last month’s energy consumption was nearly 500 quid. What will December’s be, at this rate???). Then our 4 ceiling lights in the bathroom have failed one by one so I walk into a pitch dark bathroom, pull the cord and have to wait till one solitary light flickers on. I thought I had an electrician coming this week but he’s not committed to a day or time so I’m guessing that chance is gone. Heigh ho.