Good for me.
*pats own head*
Friday, 26 February 2010
Fate lends a hand
Time is illusionary.
The days from Saturday to Wednesday seemed, at the time, to last a month. Now they seem like a bad dream from which I've woken.
I was sick. A lot. And when I wasn't being sick, I felt sicker. The anti-sickness tablets defected to the other side and were just sickness tablets, being throw into one of the two toilets in my flat, or sometimes, just for fun, the sink, as you can then play 'Push the Chunks' after. Not that there were many chunks after day two, just acid bile. Too much information? Go and read a blog about kittens then. Because cancer is mostly about puke, shit, sweat, tears and other 'hard to remove at thirty' stains.
And for a day or so back there, towards the end, I was stuck The Dark Zone. Where everything seems utterly pointless and futile. Where just thinking about another treatment in 9 days makes you want to reach for the [insert self-harming weapon of choice here].
And yet, today, with two days of feeling "not-sick", those dark times seem like a long way away again. Time is very strange.
---------------------------
I had to see my Consultant on Wednesday. It was the first time I left the house for 5 days - only to travel back to the wretched hospital.
10:15 - Arrive for appointment. Wait.
10:45 - I am weighed. Just under 12 stone. Not bad, put some back on.
11:30 - blood test - but not taken from my PICC as I hoped, as these nurses are not qualified to use my new toy, so it's another shot into the other arm. Blood sent up for checking.
12:30 - see my Consultant. I start to talk about how sick I've been but start crying as I get to the bit where I plead for treatment every three weeks, as opposed to every two. Although tissues and sympathy are offered, she does not back down. It's important that I have treatment every two weeks, apparently. I do not accept this but I am somewhat powerless here. Fate may yet help her see reason. *knowing smile*
12:50 - My spleen is felt. A new drug is prescribed to help with the nausea - a sedative known as Lorazepam. I like drugs that end with the letters 'pam'. You know they warrant their 'don't operate heavy machinery' disclaimer. So, just to stop me feeling sick, during my next bout of chemo I will be taking Lorazepam, Cyclizine, Ondansetron and Domperidome, to be of course gakked with my normal breakfast of Allopurinol and Ranitidine, with a side-order of Codeine, Paracetomol and to be washed down with a Movicol juice to stop my bowels turning to concrete. On my arm is a tattoo that says "Drug Free". Oh how I laugh. On top of these extra drugs, I'm written the 'script for two more self-injecting 'white blood cell booster' needles, to be plunged at the weekend ...
13:15 ... to the hospital pharmacy to drop in my script and then to the ...
13:30 ... Cancer Ward to clean up my PICC line, which is coated in dry blood. I walk in to That Place that made me so sick only 6 days ago, take a deep breath, and ...
13:32 - puke in their toilets.
13:45 - PICC line cleaned.
14:00 - Back to the pharmacy
14:22 - Lose temper in pharmacy
14:30 - Get 'script items.
14:35 - Leave hospital. Punch air.
-----------------------------------
Time passes
Friday morning. Phone rings whilst driving to work.
It's my Consultant.
"How are you feeling?"
"Better now, thanks. Not sick."
"Good. You know those injections you're taking..."
"Hmmm"
"Well, don't use them. There is a very slight chance it can cause a spleenal rupture when the spleen is enlarged, such as yours"
"Oh, cool. OK, so, er what happens when I can't have treatment because of my low-blood count then - which, as you know, has happened every time I haven't had the injections"
"We will delay the treatment for a week"
"Right. So you're telling me that there's no injections from now on and my treatment will probably be delayed for a week"
"Yes"
"This might just be the best phone call I've ever had"
And on that bombshell, I'm spending my weekend hanging out with people with bad colds, staying up way too late and only eating raw eggs ... gotta keep those white blood-cells down at all costs.
The days from Saturday to Wednesday seemed, at the time, to last a month. Now they seem like a bad dream from which I've woken.
I was sick. A lot. And when I wasn't being sick, I felt sicker. The anti-sickness tablets defected to the other side and were just sickness tablets, being throw into one of the two toilets in my flat, or sometimes, just for fun, the sink, as you can then play 'Push the Chunks' after. Not that there were many chunks after day two, just acid bile. Too much information? Go and read a blog about kittens then. Because cancer is mostly about puke, shit, sweat, tears and other 'hard to remove at thirty' stains.
And for a day or so back there, towards the end, I was stuck The Dark Zone. Where everything seems utterly pointless and futile. Where just thinking about another treatment in 9 days makes you want to reach for the [insert self-harming weapon of choice here].
And yet, today, with two days of feeling "not-sick", those dark times seem like a long way away again. Time is very strange.
---------------------------
I had to see my Consultant on Wednesday. It was the first time I left the house for 5 days - only to travel back to the wretched hospital.
10:15 - Arrive for appointment. Wait.
10:45 - I am weighed. Just under 12 stone. Not bad, put some back on.
11:30 - blood test - but not taken from my PICC as I hoped, as these nurses are not qualified to use my new toy, so it's another shot into the other arm. Blood sent up for checking.
12:30 - see my Consultant. I start to talk about how sick I've been but start crying as I get to the bit where I plead for treatment every three weeks, as opposed to every two. Although tissues and sympathy are offered, she does not back down. It's important that I have treatment every two weeks, apparently. I do not accept this but I am somewhat powerless here. Fate may yet help her see reason. *knowing smile*
12:50 - My spleen is felt. A new drug is prescribed to help with the nausea - a sedative known as Lorazepam. I like drugs that end with the letters 'pam'. You know they warrant their 'don't operate heavy machinery' disclaimer. So, just to stop me feeling sick, during my next bout of chemo I will be taking Lorazepam, Cyclizine, Ondansetron and Domperidome, to be of course gakked with my normal breakfast of Allopurinol and Ranitidine, with a side-order of Codeine, Paracetomol and to be washed down with a Movicol juice to stop my bowels turning to concrete. On my arm is a tattoo that says "Drug Free". Oh how I laugh. On top of these extra drugs, I'm written the 'script for two more self-injecting 'white blood cell booster' needles, to be plunged at the weekend ...
13:15 ... to the hospital pharmacy to drop in my script and then to the ...
13:30 ... Cancer Ward to clean up my PICC line, which is coated in dry blood. I walk in to That Place that made me so sick only 6 days ago, take a deep breath, and ...
13:32 - puke in their toilets.
13:45 - PICC line cleaned.
14:00 - Back to the pharmacy
14:22 - Lose temper in pharmacy
14:30 - Get 'script items.
14:35 - Leave hospital. Punch air.
-----------------------------------
Time passes
Friday morning. Phone rings whilst driving to work.
It's my Consultant.
"How are you feeling?"
"Better now, thanks. Not sick."
"Good. You know those injections you're taking..."
"Hmmm"
"Well, don't use them. There is a very slight chance it can cause a spleenal rupture when the spleen is enlarged, such as yours"
"Oh, cool. OK, so, er what happens when I can't have treatment because of my low-blood count then - which, as you know, has happened every time I haven't had the injections"
"We will delay the treatment for a week"
"Right. So you're telling me that there's no injections from now on and my treatment will probably be delayed for a week"
"Yes"
"This might just be the best phone call I've ever had"
And on that bombshell, I'm spending my weekend hanging out with people with bad colds, staying up way too late and only eating raw eggs ... gotta keep those white blood-cells down at all costs.
Saturday, 20 February 2010
chemo 4
... or 2b, as I've been corrected.
Right ho .. a short post, you know how I am writing about chemo afterwards.
The PICC insertion was relatively painless, but you wouldn't think it to look at me. I was wriggling around like a lizard on a ... where is that analogy going?
You can see the end result from my previous picture post - a permanent line to just above my heart. Spooky.
The good, nay great news, is that all the chemo drugs were put through me with no pain whatsoever. I took the evil veinpain drug as quickly as it could be administered.
I was in such a good mood about this that after being picked up at the hospital at 2:00pm, rather than 5:30pm, that I went back to office before rapidly descending into a 'whitey' and puked in the office toilets.
The sickness was strong last night - I was physically sick three times and had a bad nights sleep, so normal service has been resumed, but I am still grateful for the PICC line, no matter if the end result is the same.
It's started leaking blood today and I think it's going to need cleaning more than the once a week it's been scheduled for, but it's still a medical miracle.
Overall, this is a big result ... I've been given different anti-sickness pills (*shrugs*) and I am awaiting the next phase of lethargy to kick in ... so I probably won't blog much for a few days, as it's all 'same shit, difference cycle' now, but if anyone suffers from veinpain and is offered a PICC line - it's a no-brainer.
Better get back to my deaf father, who has returned this morning to play the 'how loud does the TV go?' game.
Have a good weekend/week/life.
Right ho .. a short post, you know how I am writing about chemo afterwards.
The PICC insertion was relatively painless, but you wouldn't think it to look at me. I was wriggling around like a lizard on a ... where is that analogy going?
You can see the end result from my previous picture post - a permanent line to just above my heart. Spooky.
The good, nay great news, is that all the chemo drugs were put through me with no pain whatsoever. I took the evil veinpain drug as quickly as it could be administered.
I was in such a good mood about this that after being picked up at the hospital at 2:00pm, rather than 5:30pm, that I went back to office before rapidly descending into a 'whitey' and puked in the office toilets.
The sickness was strong last night - I was physically sick three times and had a bad nights sleep, so normal service has been resumed, but I am still grateful for the PICC line, no matter if the end result is the same.
It's started leaking blood today and I think it's going to need cleaning more than the once a week it's been scheduled for, but it's still a medical miracle.
Overall, this is a big result ... I've been given different anti-sickness pills (*shrugs*) and I am awaiting the next phase of lethargy to kick in ... so I probably won't blog much for a few days, as it's all 'same shit, difference cycle' now, but if anyone suffers from veinpain and is offered a PICC line - it's a no-brainer.
Better get back to my deaf father, who has returned this morning to play the 'how loud does the TV go?' game.
Have a good weekend/week/life.
Thursday, 18 February 2010
Here we go then ...
... About to have a PICC line put in my right arm, because my left is still knackered from the previous treatment.
Chemo itself will be tomorrow now.
Nervous ... There's something about the term 'tube threaded towards heart' that fills me with nervous horror.
After I will have a chest x-ray to check 'it hasn't gone into the heart'.
Anyone got any morphine?
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device
Chemo itself will be tomorrow now.
Nervous ... There's something about the term 'tube threaded towards heart' that fills me with nervous horror.
After I will have a chest x-ray to check 'it hasn't gone into the heart'.
Anyone got any morphine?
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device
Back to hell
Its official. I hate this place. I walk in and I want to cry. The smell, the memory, the impending treatments. It sucks the joy out of me and I can't even fake a smile to the nurses.
I don't even know what is in store for me today. It might be the PICC line, it might be chemo, it'll probably be both, or it could be nothing.
All I know is that I feel slightly sick already and I'd rather be anywhere else but here.
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device
I don't even know what is in store for me today. It might be the PICC line, it might be chemo, it'll probably be both, or it could be nothing.
All I know is that I feel slightly sick already and I'd rather be anywhere else but here.
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device
Monday, 15 February 2010
Lean Spleen And The Injections
... Great name for a band, that.
I'm here just to let you know that I'm in a good mood. The weekend was good - a great balance of doing things with people - like bowling, AA, visiting friends - countered with some quality time by myself feeling not-sick. You treasure those days.
As I've previously mentioned, I have been instructed to give myself three injections to help boost my white blood cell count, so my treatments can continue every 2 weeks, as opposed to being delayed. I was told to stick myself with one on Friday, Saturday and Sunday,but when it came down to it, I just couldn't do it myself. On Friday I didn't even bother trying. The needle itself it only really about 2 cm's long, and it needs to be stabbed in under some pinched stomach fat before the the 5mm of gooey liquid is pumped in with the syringe. Thankfully, an ex-girlfriend jumped at the opportunity to stab me in the gut with a sharp object and she did the tricky bit for me in my office. It doesn't hurt at all, but it's the action of stabbing myself that I just can't do. I suddenly have new respect for captured Japanese soldiers in WWII .
In a rather optimistic moment of insanity, I thought I'd try myself on Saturday. It was ridiculous. I stabbed the needle in about 2mm and then instantly pulled it out again, leaving a drawing pin hole in my tummy. Like a school boy that had pricked himself with a needle, my bottom lip dropped and I said 'ouch'. That was my one and only attempt to do it. I'm such a big girl when it comes to this sort of thing. I failed to find anyone on Saturday to do the job, so it didn't get done (I got moaned at by my Key Worker this morning about that). but I managed to find volunteers on Sunday and this morning, so my three injections are now done. Hooray.
Speaking to my Key Worker, it's looking like they are pushing for this PICC line to be put in soon. I think I'm going to be called in tomorrow or Wednesday to have the procedure explained to me by the nurse. It's fair to say that I'm not looking forward to this at all but it has to be better than the chemo experience I had last time - and yes, my arm is still hurting. That's 11 days of vein pain so far ...
I was having a little feel of myself in bed last night - stop sniggering at the back - and I've concluded that my spleen is shrinking. This is good news. It doesn't feel as 'up high' as it was before ... it used to stick out a bit more ... I think it's definitely a more lean spleen. Hopefully I'm not imagining it.
Right ho, not a very exciting blog today. Not even a funny one either. But I thought I'd just drop by to say that I'm well, I've had a good weekend, I'm actually quite happy, looking quite healthy and feeling grateful for my sick-free days.
It won't last.
I'm here just to let you know that I'm in a good mood. The weekend was good - a great balance of doing things with people - like bowling, AA, visiting friends - countered with some quality time by myself feeling not-sick. You treasure those days.
As I've previously mentioned, I have been instructed to give myself three injections to help boost my white blood cell count, so my treatments can continue every 2 weeks, as opposed to being delayed. I was told to stick myself with one on Friday, Saturday and Sunday,but when it came down to it, I just couldn't do it myself. On Friday I didn't even bother trying. The needle itself it only really about 2 cm's long, and it needs to be stabbed in under some pinched stomach fat before the the 5mm of gooey liquid is pumped in with the syringe. Thankfully, an ex-girlfriend jumped at the opportunity to stab me in the gut with a sharp object and she did the tricky bit for me in my office. It doesn't hurt at all, but it's the action of stabbing myself that I just can't do. I suddenly have new respect for captured Japanese soldiers in WWII .
In a rather optimistic moment of insanity, I thought I'd try myself on Saturday. It was ridiculous. I stabbed the needle in about 2mm and then instantly pulled it out again, leaving a drawing pin hole in my tummy. Like a school boy that had pricked himself with a needle, my bottom lip dropped and I said 'ouch'. That was my one and only attempt to do it. I'm such a big girl when it comes to this sort of thing. I failed to find anyone on Saturday to do the job, so it didn't get done (I got moaned at by my Key Worker this morning about that). but I managed to find volunteers on Sunday and this morning, so my three injections are now done. Hooray.
Speaking to my Key Worker, it's looking like they are pushing for this PICC line to be put in soon. I think I'm going to be called in tomorrow or Wednesday to have the procedure explained to me by the nurse. It's fair to say that I'm not looking forward to this at all but it has to be better than the chemo experience I had last time - and yes, my arm is still hurting. That's 11 days of vein pain so far ...
I was having a little feel of myself in bed last night - stop sniggering at the back - and I've concluded that my spleen is shrinking. This is good news. It doesn't feel as 'up high' as it was before ... it used to stick out a bit more ... I think it's definitely a more lean spleen. Hopefully I'm not imagining it.
Right ho, not a very exciting blog today. Not even a funny one either. But I thought I'd just drop by to say that I'm well, I've had a good weekend, I'm actually quite happy, looking quite healthy and feeling grateful for my sick-free days.
It won't last.
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