Monday, November 09: Each round of chemotherapy seems to bring a new addition to the range of side effects. There’s always tiredness and feeling generally horrible. Constipation. Heartburn. Not sleeping well is a regular side-effect – whether from the chemo or just because when you have a stonking great tumour in your lung you tend to be a bit anxious about what’s going to happen.
I’ve been lucky in not developing peripheral neuropathy as a side-effect and hope it stays that way – the tingling and pain in the fingers and feet sound very unpleasant. And, I haven’t lost my hair, though it has become thinner. In fact, since my last haircut I don’t think it has grown at all – may even be shrinking. At least it takes no time to dry nowadays and from what I’ve heard from others it will thicken up again once the chemo is over.
Last time I had a sore mouth. When the nurse phoned to do the pre-chemo assessment and ran through her list of possible problems, I told her. “Oh, did you use the mouthwash, we gave you? It really does help.” I admitted it hadn’t used the tub of sodium bicarbonate they’d given me to make up a mouthwash – I didn’t admit I’d used it make Irish soda bread. It’s a big tub so there’s plenty left to use as a mouthwash.
Of course, this time, I didn’t have the sore mouth – instead I had a really dry mouth with very little saliva. Fortunately, my lovely dentist had already supplied me with artificial saliva in the form of pastilles, gel and spray.
I know I had a bit of a whinge last week but looking back, the week after round two of chemo was far worse emotionally, if not physically, than round three. I’ve been thinking about this and why it might be so. I wonder if after the first chemo cycle, we’re so glad treatment has finally started and are feeling positive about its effect on the tumour. The side effects are not as bad as we feared and we feel we can cope.
By the time we go through it a second time, we’re perhaps not quite so positive. More side- effects appear which are harder to deal with and we have absolutely no idea if this toxic mix we allow to be dripped into our bodies is doing what it’s supposed to be doing. We feel crap and begin to wonder why we are putting ourselves through this hell. For me, one of the worst aspects of cancer and its treatment is the never really knowing what’s going on. The endless waiting to find out is also pretty tough. No wonder we get so bad-tempered and don’t sleep well.
I am astonished, when the side-effects wear off to find I feel perfectly well. How can this be when a malignant tumour is inside my lung, hell bent on killing me?
I think this time round – third – I kept reminding myself I would feel better after a few days. It took a bit longer this time – but I don’t think I was as bad-tempered as before – though you might have to ask the DH for his opinion on that statement.
Realising I can’t influence the action of the chemo I’m trying to block thoughts about whether the tumour is shrinking, growing or remaining stable. It’s pointless worrying about it. I said to my friends Sue and Lynn, “You can remind me of this, when I’m suffering from ‘scanxiety’ after the final dose and am waiting for the next scan results.”
We’ve had a few dry, bright days so I’ve been able to get out for walks – both along a beach and in the countryside. That’s when it feels the healing is happening.
And with only one medical appointment this week – a Vitamin B12 injection this morning – I threw clothes into black plastic bags and am now installed in a hut on Carrick shore for the rest of this week. This is why I’m so late putting up this post. I arrived here mid-afternoon full of good intentions to get cracking on the blog after a quick wander along the shore, but then was seduced by watching and listening to the tide come in, sea birds calling, the sun setting, the light fading and the stars appearing. It may not shrink the tumour, but it makes me glad to be alive and still able to savour such times.