Friday, 20 August 2010

the boy with a thorn in his side

Christ ... what a week. I say that like it's over, but it's not over, but it's still been a hell of week.

It started last Wednesday, the day before Chemo. I woke and something inside had broken. I'm not sure why, but I felt looooooooooow. Actually, I do know why, what a stupid thing to say. It was because I had Chemo the next day and whilst I have been fairly good at facing The Evil One square-on recently, I found my will had broken somewhat and bought me crashing down into a pit of self-pity and unwillingness to carry on with this ridiculous regime.

However, like a good boy, I took my medicine as Thursday and Friday melded into one. I slept a lot, using a few Lorazapam pill to get me over the worst. Long, trippy dreams - night into day, day into night. I was just 'not here' until Saturday, where I started to piece things together again. To be honest, it wasn't until Sunday evening that I felt almost human again ... and that's when my ol' friend The Pain came knocking on my door.

The problem comes when I stop taking my steroids after my Chemo. About Monday. Then *it* kicks in.

I've documented The Pain before, but if you've just landed here or are out of the loop, then The Pain is basically *something* that's going on in my 'insides', to the left of my stomach, pretty much where my spleen used to lay - suspected adhesions, or perhaps the surgeon assistant left a cheap earring in my intestines, who knows?

The Pain manifests itself like someone squeezing an intestine with a flat pair of pliers and then holding onto the squeeze for hours. Sometimes giving it a twist for fun. The Pain is one sick bastard and The Pain was very, very bad this week. The attacks tend to happen at either 2:00am or 4:00am - then again at lunchtime and then the big one seems to come at 5:30pm. These evening sessions has pretty much ruined every night at home I've had this week.

For example, I was found by a work colleague on Wednesday night in the company car-park. I had left 25 minutes before him, but I hadn't made it into my car, but was on tips toes, face scrunched and hugging my car roof .. too painful to drive for a good hour.

And this has been my week. Pain attacks interspersed with working. It's not a lot of fun, but then again, Cancer apparently isn't ... and although this is some secondary ailment, I'm still firming pointing my accusing finger at Cancer for inviting his best friend, The Pain, to the party.

The solution? God knows. Lots of painkillers and lots of gritted teeth. On the plus, my pain tolerance is getting pretty fucking good and once I'm out the other side, I should be able to earn a supplementary salary entertaining people by walking across hot coals whilst sticking daggers in my side, like a Victorian circus freak.

The official verdict is that nothing can be done whilst I'm still receiving Chemo and that could be for a while longer. So it's daily pain management for me.

I have another 'radioactive' PET scan on 31st of August, where The Powers That Be will be able to see how I'm getting on and how many more treatments I will need.

On the note, I'm not overly optimistic about stopping any time soon, as during my last check-up, my doctor found a (new?) 'pea-sized' lump under one armpit and one a bit bigger under the other. These lumps are all part of the lymphatic system, which is cancerous, so it would suggest that whilst on one hand I am obviously responding to treatment (I *look* a lot better for a start, even if I'm not feeling great), there is still work to be done.

So. Onwards. Clenched fists and all that. The weekend is welcome ... Pray that The Pain doesn't ruin it for me too much. I'm off to the iMax tomorrow lunchtime to see Toy Story 3(d) and the rest of the weekend will be spent watching 'soccer' and learning about synthesis/sound design.

I hope that you lot out there are well and fine and sorry to those that I've been ignoring recently. It's hard to chat/talk/email/post when you're focusing on The Pain. You don't want to talk about it and you get sick of explaining it - you get frustrated and snappy and ... well, 'best left alone' is probably hitting the nail on the head.

However, we'll speak soon, no doubt ... it would appear that I'm not going anywhere for a while.


Oh yeah, if anyone wants to help me with four days washing up, it would be appreciated, as my apartment smells of baked beans.

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