Week One

Sorry about the break.
I'm going to wind back the descriptive, discursive style - if I can.  Just to get the message out.

Before Week One (Monday 7 May).  I had an emergency visit over the weekend due to PEG infection.  Wow! Did I receive A Grade care! (note  = genuine sentiment).

As an added bonus, it appears I had been harbouring a post-op infection for the last fortnight, from the tonsillectomy.  All the 'Sneakers On The Beach' ho-ha, was nothing to do with cancer.  It was just a big bloody infection. This had caused my tumour (lymph node) to get painful and HUGE, so we had become quite stressed about not starting the week before, as it seemed every day was making a difference to my state.  It was, I was swelling up and becoming lethargic.  I had night sweats, but no temperature - I was on constant paracetamol.  I just thought this was cancer baby.

Friday night I was put on antibiotics for my PEG infection.  I woke up Saturday morning a new man.  My tumour was back to a hand-full and painless, I was not lethargic, I had not had night sweats.  Oh my lawrd!  We realised what must have been the case and celebrated the new me.

Monday came and it was time to start.  I was well and truly ready to get this going.

It was ChemoT first.  The staff were awesome, the feeling in the place was positive, fresh and new.  That really mattered.  A comfy recliner, a book, TV (no Berts), Blog to do (didn't get to it) and four hours to kill, while they boosted my fluids, poisoned my cancer cells and then boosted my fluids again.  The time went quickly and between a few meetings with health professionals, Alison's company and fair few trips to the toilet holding my fluids stand, like you see in the movies, I didn't get time to touch my laptop, book or TV (actually on reflection I did spend about 45 minutes - 3 pages - trying to finish reading Moby Dick again, I've been working through it for about six years now).

I was all dosed up and headed down for my first RadioT.  I knew it was going to be quick and painless.  I had a meeting with my RT nurse, who was by chance my old friend, the lovely Sammy Watts.  What a nice touch to have a familiar face for my week-daily visits.

I went through the mask lock down, which must be hell for the claustrophobic, but in which I was able to go to a happy place.  The RT only takes ten minutes or less, so I was on my way before I knew it.

Dosed up and with a container full of more drugs and many instructions, let's see how this week would go!

Well holy flip - Tuesday to Friday was very very tough.
Nausea - easy to hear and disregard - but debilitating, especially when I was trying not to loose weight and keep up my fluids without using my PEG for 3-4 weeks.
Reflux - the dexamethasone used to kerb nausea, caused reflux and I could not get comfortable at night.
Chemo Brain - thinking, talking, reading, watching television  - they all made me feel nauseous.
Night Psychosis - a big call, but I think the speed in the dex had me all over the shop at night.  I was constantly pondering the most bizarre hypotheses over and over all night.  I did not sleep at night for three nights.
Other than that it was pretty good.

No, It was a dog fight.
I was flailing about, delirious and wounded in no mans land, caught in the barbed wire - Alison, still running her business and this household - dragged me out of that shit hole.
As I recall, she could only spare one hand to grab hold of me, but it's all she needed.
A very strong woman, my wife.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On Saturday I came a lot better.  I went to Ned's footy - where he played up in the 'Saturday Team' and kicked a goal! - as I walked past the obligatory BBQ - which I had actually been rostered on for, thank you so much to Bill Pattison for manning that post for the morning - I held my breath, but caught a whiff and it didn't make me want to throw.  About 20 minutes later I had a revelation.

"I could go a bacon sandwich..with a fair bit of sauce"  This was profound after the week I'd had.  Alison knew the importance of it and had legged it round to the barby in minutes, carefully picking out the right bits of bacon and following my sauce instructions to the letter.

What a change!  Later that afternoon, I had another revelation "I could go a schnitzel!" WTF.  So we ordered schnitty packs for the first time in out 17 years in this house, and I watched the Power beat the Crows, I worked my way through enough of it to make any 75kg man would be proud of himself.

Things have not been quite so simple since Saturday, but I have certainly had it a lot easier and am well pleased to have two full weeks before my next ChemoT.

Today I met with M F, my Clinical Practice Consultant.  The guy is a legend and has made up a pharmaceutical plan which seemed to be based in some very sound science, on how to avoid another week like last week.

Coming up for me is the effects of RT starting to kick in. External 'burning', throat pain and ulcers.  And my two more rounds of ChemoT on top of that.  Possibly a big dose of naivety, allows me to think, it can't get much worse than last week. We'll see I guess.

Thought this was the Gideon's Bible at first.  Was much excited to see a book I have spent about three years enjoying, placed like a bible on top of the pile.  Is there a Gideon's equivalent for Such Is Life...the Furphyions?

My first day of school

Stop! Chemo Time

RadioT and the creepy mask to locate me millimetre perfect

The Lovely Sammy Watts....fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa (Kinks fans)

Typical friendly RT